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I thought explaining myself would help when someone felt hurt by me. Instead, it made them feel unseen. The moment I stopped defending my intention and started acknowledging their experience, something shifted—connection returned.

I didn’t realize how often I spoke to people as labels instead of humans—until I noticed how much it hurt when done to me. Shifting from “you always…” to “here’s what happened” changed the tone of my conversations and the feeling they leave behind.

Ever realize you’re not responding to what someone said, but to what you think they meant? I thought I was a good listener—until I saw how much of my “listening” happened in my own head. What happened next changed every conversation I have.

I once confused empowerment with assignment. By deciding tasks for my team, I unknowingly limited their ownership and self-expression. True empowerment is not assigning duties, but inviting contribution with the question, "What can you do?" This allows people to work within their own possibilities, turning effort into shared ownership and real leadership.

For years, I chased perfection, believing "goodness" meant being flawless and loved. But in that effort, I lost myself. My Appa's unsettling advice—to act like a person here for redemption—taught me that wholeness comes from accepting all flaws. Acknowledging them doesn't make us worse; it makes us authentic. True redemption is not becoming pure, but becoming whole.

We often seek freedom in escape—from stress, toxic relationships, or hard emotions. But avoiding discomfort only hides it until it resurfaces. True liberation isn't found in running away, but in stopping. It’s the courage to stay present with what we want to avoid. Freedom is not the absence of pain; it's the presence of awareness.

At my fifteenth interview with the same question, "What do you want to do with your life?" I answered, "I want to help people." But this time was different. He asked, "Why do you think others need your help? What have you done that they should take it?" That moment changed everything. What followed transformed how I understood contribution, leadership, and the difference between help and support forever.

I thought leadership meant being hands-on with everything. So I micromanaged, controlled, and tried to perfect every detail. But recently, something shifted. I realized that in my need to own everything, I left no room for my team to step up, to create, or to grow. Real leadership, I'm learning, isn't about perfection—it's about making space for others to own their work and unfold their potential.