On Martin Luther King Jr. Day, I had the free time to clean my home office and came across some old boxes I hadn’t opened in years. Somewhere between old folders and forgotten notebooks, I came across something I didn’t expect to find: my childhood journals.
Flipping through them, I landed on entries from the end of my senior year of high school. Pages filled with big questions and very earnest handwriting. What kind of career did I envision? What did “success” actually mean to me? What mattered most?
What struck me wasn’t how much I’d changed, but how much I hadn’t.
Even then, I wrote about wanting a career that was more than just money. I wanted to help people. I wanted to build something I could be proud of. I wanted work that felt meaningful, not just impressive on paper.
I had a list, some of it explicit, some of it implied:
• I wanted to be in business
• I wanted to manage and grow a business
• I wanted to help people and give back to my community
• I planned on graduate school
• I wanted to work for a Fortune 500 company
Reading it now, years later, was surreal. I did go to graduate school. I did work for a Fortune 500 company. I built a career in business. And today, I’m continuing to build my own business within an established firm, one that allows me to grow something that’s truly mine while being part of a larger, supportive platform.
But the most meaningful part wasn’t checking boxes. It was realizing that the why behind those goals had stayed consistent.
Today, my work in wealth management is still rooted in those same ideas I wrote about as a teenager. I work with people during some of the most pivotal moments of their lives: retirement, divorce, loss, career transitions, and growth. I help them organize complexity, make thoughtful decisions, and align their money with the life they want to live.
I get to build a business that reflects my values. I get to be involved in my community. I get to help people feel less overwhelmed and more in control. And I get to do it in a way that feels purposeful.
That journal entry made something very clear to me: even before titles and success entered the picture, what mattered most was responsibility, impact, and building something lasting. Those priorities have shaped every step of my career since, and they continue to shape how I show up for clients today.
It was a good reminder that the things worth chasing aren’t always flashy. They’re often quiet, values-driven, and deeply personal.
And sometimes, the best confirmation that you’re on the right path is written in your own handwriting from years ago.