All the world is not a stage

Each morning, as I take a fistful of pills, I see the huge scar running down my chest.

And seeing that scar reminds me that I am healthier now than ever before.

While I don’t know how long it took the blockages to develop in my coronary arteries, my heart attack came on in an instant. I stood up from my office chair and everything changed: wavy vision, hyperventilation, skin crawling. I would learn later that my kind of heart attack is ominously referred to as the “Widowmaker.” And yet, I made it to emergency surgery and received five bypass grafts without delay or complication. I went into respiratory failure and spiked a fever when they first removed the ventilator, so they put me on ice for a three-day coma. After regaining consciousness and having my ventilator removed for the second time, I experienced a wicked case of ICU delirium.

My body and mind carry that truth now. These are facts I cannot change. And yet, I am happy, healthy, and hearty in body, mind, and spirit. Two things can be true at once, even if they seem to contradict. We can accept both our current state and the need to make positive changes.

This heart attack marked the beginning of six months of extended medical leave as CEO of the Credit Union League of Connecticut. Now, nearly six months back on the job, I offer some reflections on what a life in balance looks like to me. 

My recovery journey brought me to a new sense that “health” is built upon alignment and balance. Because what good is physical wellness if I neglect the rest of my life? Well-being doesn’t come from trying to be the more present parent or even the most popular League President.

Today, I try to align my inside self with my outside self. For example, as a bisexual person, my reality was often defined by the actual or perceived expectations of the people around me. Like a chameleon, I changed my colors to match the room. I never hid my identity from others, but I was not transparent.

In my recovery journey, I learned that prioritizing aligning oneself with the expectations of others is a fool’s errand. In my pursuit of healthy balance, I reclaimed that energy. Being bisexual is but one fact about me—it doesn’t define me. And yet, openly embracing my sexuality makes me more whole, more honest, and more capable of leadership and partnership.

Owning your identity is not a rebellious act, it is a homecoming that removes roadblocks we placed in our own way. Doing this creates emotional space and, in my case, the room to be more present in everything I do, from parenting my adolescent children to sitting back in the saddle as CEO of this trade association.

Returning to work after a six-month absence is like riding a seesaw all by yourself.  

The League did not sit in suspended animation during all the time I spent achieving physical recovery and personal growth. The team kept going in my absence. New processes emerged. My daily tasks were redistributed. Relationships evolved. Some deepened. Others frayed. We even moved into a new office—one I had barely seen before the heart attack. I may be the CEO, but in many ways, I am still new here.

So how does a leader re-enter a workplace that figured out how to survive—even thrive—without them?

Whether we’re an adolescent in distress or a CEO returning from a near-death experience, we can reduce ineffective or self-destructive behaviors and start living a life that is worth living. And that begins with accepting ourselves, without judgment, exactly as we are. At the same time, we recognize the need for positive change, and we commit to reaching for that growth.

Certainty is rare in all relationships—especially those of professional leadership and parenting. This is so because human beings are not purely rational actors; we are beautifully messy. We do not thrive on certainty, we stagnate. We thrive on presence. We thrive when we navigate uncertainty without losing our center.

A life worth living is rooted in the middle path between emotion and intellect—not because it’s easier, but because it’s real. That path runs through the hard-won ground where acceptance meets action. And that’s the new foundation of my approach to life:

This one life we are given is too short—and far too dear—to spend our energy chasing validation or trying to reach people who refuse to meet us in the middle. When we are aligned with ourselves, we stop performing and start living.