The Protector That Built My Business (And Why I’m Teaching Her to Rest)

I’m deeply grateful to everyone who showed up to our events last week. Truly.

And yet, as I sat down afterward — when the music stopped, the invoices rolled in, and the cleanup was done — I felt something else alongside gratitude. A reckoning.

With every event comes preparation, stress, financing, delegation, expectation. And when it’s over, I always ask myself:

Did we perform at our best?

Were the goals clear?

Did I communicate the vision?

Was it worth it?

That internal audit runs fast. Too fast.

And recently, through therapy, I realized something uncomfortable.

The part of me asking those questions isn’t just a strategic CEO.

It’s a 13-year-old girl.

The Girl Who Learned to Overfunction

When my family immigrated when I was thirteen years old, responsibility came quickly. Too quickly.

There wasn’t space for hesitation or softness. Things had to work. Bills had to be paid. English had to be learned. Stability had to be manufactured from thin air.

So a protector stepped in.

She learned:

• If I do it myself, it won’t fall apart.

• If I anticipate every problem, I won’t be blindsided.

• If I work harder than everyone else, we’ll be safe.

That protector built my resilience. She built my work ethic. She built this business. But she also struggles to trust.

When an event underperforms…When staff don’t behave the way I imagined…When someone doesn’t execute exactly as I would… She tightens.

“I’ll just do it myself next time.” And that’s the moment scale dies.

The Hidden Cost of Overfunctioning

Overfunctioning feels productive. It feels responsible. It feels righteous. But it silently communicates something dangerous: “I don’t believe others can carry this.”

And if I don’t believe that… why would they?

The irony is that the very instinct that helped me survive can now limit growth.

You cannot build a creative ecosystem — or a team — from hypervigilance.

You build it from clarity and exposure.

Experience Becomes Therapy

In my session this week, something shifted.

I realized that the protector isn’t wrong. She’s just outdated. She learned that control equals safety.

But today, safety looks different.

Today, safety looks like:

• Clear intentions before events.

• Defined roles before doors open.

• Accepting hiccups without spiraling.

• Letting people try, stumble, and improve.

Experience becomes therapy. Delegation becomes therapy. Allowing imperfection becomes therapy.

Each time something doesn’t go exactly as planned — and I don’t collapse into self-blame or overdrive — that’s exposure work. That’s growth. That’s leadership.

Checking Our Intentions (The Part I Almost Missed)

In my last newsletter, I asked: What happens when we set clear intentions?

But here’s the deeper question I’m sitting with now: What happens when we don’t?

When we sign up for something — an event, a class, a collaboration, a job — without defining what success means beforehand, we leave ourselves vulnerable to vague disappointment.

If I don’t define success before the event…Then afterward, everything becomes evidence of failure.

That’s not leadership.That’s emotional chaos. The protector thrives in chaos. The adult self requires clarity.

Teaching the Protector to Rest

This season of my life isn’t about working harder. It’s about recalibrating.

It’s about allowing the adult version of me — the one who has built something real, who has a team, who has clients who return — to lead. The protector doesn’t get fired.

She just doesn’t get to run the company anymore. She can sit in the back seat.

She can relax. She can trust that hiccups won’t destroy us.

Because they never have.

A Question for You

Where are you overfunctioning in your life right now?

In your marriage? Your friendships? Your business? Your parenting?

Where are you doing more than is necessary — not because it’s required, but because somewhere along the way you learned that if you don’t, everything might fall apart?

And what would it look like to let your adult self take the lead instead?

Recalibrations are always allowed.Forgiving ourselves for past missteps is essential.

Growth requires exposure.

And sometimes the most radical act of leadership is letting the protector rest.