The Accident That Rewired My Leadership — And Why It Matters for How You Lead.

I’ve been thinking a lot about rest and leadership lately.

After the accident, there was a stretch of time where I found I was questioning myself. My focus, my values, even the part of me that has always led instinctively…. all of it felt muted. It just disorienting. Like someone had turned down the volume on the high-wired frequency I’ve always relied on.

But distance has a way of sharpening everything.
I became far more intentional about the rooms I walked into, the people I gave my energy to, and how I shaped the environments I curate. I noticed the difference between spaces that steadied me and spaces that scattered me.

It reminded me of Sweden. That very specific kind of silence where your thinking becomes clearer because there’s nowhere for the noise to hide. I remember that wide expanse of endless greenery and deafening silence. But sometimes you have to return to an older version of yourself not to go back, but to retrieve the clarity you left there.

I’ve been quieter publicly because I’ve been rebuilding privately.
Not the work but the architecture behind it. How to present it to you

My book comes from this place.
So does the network I’m building

Aimed at people who are ambitious, self-aware, and tired of running on urgency instead of intention.

And here’s the part that matters for anyone who feels like they’re in their own transition:

If your identity feels like it’s shifting, don’t mistake that for losing momentum. Recalibration is not regression. It’s precision.

That’s the question I keep sitting with:
What does leadership look like when it’s grounded, not reactive? When it comes from clarity instead of adrenaline?

Everything I’m creating now is shaped by that shift.

If you’re in a similar season, you’re not falling behind.
You’re repositioning — and it’s going to make everything you build next infinitely stronger.