For a long time, I was very good at a life I'd mostly inherited. I led design at a global scale — teams across continents, systems that shaped how hundreds of thousands of people worked, the kind of rooms where big decisions get made. I was genuinely good at it. I knew how to make complex things coherent, how to hold a vision steady under pressure, how to read what people needed beneath what they said they wanted. And then, slowly and then all at once, none of it felt like mine. What followed wasn't a clean arc. There was no single breakthrough — no morning where I woke up enlightened and knew exactly what to do next. There was the title, the apartment, the New York life, the salary — all of it released, one thing at a time. There was a lot of sitting with the discomfort of not yet knowing what comes next.