Leading up to March was preparation supporting an application.
Long hours.
Deep thinking.
Putting language around something that had been forming for years.
The timing felt… intentional.
Because part of that application required proposing a translational project—
and the work I’m doing right now is perfectly suited for it.
Not something I had to force.
Not something I had to stretch to fit.
But something I’ve been living.
Building.
Navigating in real time.
That alignment made it real in a different way.
Then early March came…
and everything shifted.
From that point until now—
it became preparation of a different kind.
Not just what’s on paper,
but how you carry it.
How you speak it.
How you stand in it.
Preparing for the moment you’re asked to give voice to everything you’ve built.
After all the preparation, last night felt heavy in a quiet kind of way.
Not chaotic.
Not frantic.
Just… weighty.
The kind of weight that comes when you’ve invested time, energy, prayers, and pieces of yourself into something that matters.
Everything was ready—notes reviewed, thoughts organized, power suit set aside like armor for the morning, heels waiting to be stepped into.
And I wasn’t alone in that preparation.
I had mentors who poured into me—
who reviewed my submissions,
challenged my thinking,
refined my words,
and reminded me of what I carry.
Their fingerprints are on this moment too.
But even with all of that… sleep didn’t come quite so easily.
Because when something carries purpose, your mind doesn’t just turn off.
It lingers.
It replays.
It wonders.
This morning, I stepped into a different posture.
Still a little tired.
But steady.
It’s been a minute since I donned the power suit… and definitely the heels.
Working from home doesn’t require either.
But today wasn’t ordinary—so I didn’t show up ordinary.
There was no rush.
No scrambling.
Just a quiet confidence.
Prepared.
Covered.
Supported.
Not stepping into pressure—
stepping into purpose.
And then… it was time.
The moment you’ve thought about for weeks… months…
finally arrives, and somehow, it moves both fast and slow at the same time.
There were moments of clarity.
Moments where everything connected exactly how I intended.
And if I’m honest—there were also moments where I searched for the right words.
Where the depth of what I was trying to explain felt bigger than the language I had in the moment.
But I showed up fully.
I didn’t shrink.
I didn’t hold back.
I didn’t pretend to be anything other than who I am.
And now… tonight.
The stillness is back—but it feels different.
Not heavy.
Not uncertain.
Just… released.
I’m in a different state of relaxation. Sleep should come more easily tonight.
Because the work has been done.
From application…
to preparation…
to presentation.
now—we wait.
I’m at peace, confident, I left it all on the table. No regrets. No missed opportunity.
There's a different kind of peace that comes when you know you showed up the way you were called to.
Prepared.
Covered.
Steady.
If the door opens—I’ll walk through it.
If it doesn’t—I trust there’s another with my name on it.
Either way…
I’m in the best hands. 🩶
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