The Key

Fair Use Image

You know that thing where you lose your keys and tear the whole house apart looking for them? You check your purse three times. The kitchen counter. Yesterday’s coat. The car. You start accusing other people of moving them. And then there they are—in the same place they always are. There’s a key lesson in that: sometimes we search everywhere except the most obvious place.

Recently, we consulted with an organization after an incident in which a patient was potentially harmed.

My instinct was to ask about the system.

What was the process? What policies were in place? Were they clear? Did the workflow make sense? Where were the gaps? And most importantly: How might the organization itself have contributed to this outcome?

Another leader quickly shifted the conversation.

The staff member involved, he pointed out, had been “disrespectful and nonchalant.”

Maybe she was.

But that wasn't the question.

It struck me because healthcare providers are inherently leaders—even when leader isn't anywhere in our title.

Every day, human service professionals, physicians, NPs, PAs, nurses and other clinicians make decisions that can alter the trajectory of another human being's life. We decide what deserves attention. What can wait. What gets investigated. What gets dismissed. Who needs escalation. Our authority isn't simply granted by an organizational chart. It is embedded in the responsibility people entrust to us.

And with that authority comes an obligation to look inward.

One of the hardest lessons of leadership is resisting the delicious convenience of finding the person who did something wrong.

Because once we've identified her attitude, his mistake or their poor judgment, we get to stop examining ourselves.

Accountability matters. Professionalism matters. Competence matters.

But accountability without self-examination can quickly become blame wearing a leadership badge.

At collabo™, we talk about developing inner authority—the ability to stay curious and grounded when it would be easier to defend, deflect or condemn.

When something goes wrong, leadership asks us to consider:

What did I miss?
What did we normalize?
What did our system make easier—or harder?
**What did I contribute? **

and perhaps most importantly...

How can this help shift our understanding?

Leadership isn't standing above the problem and pointing down.

It is understanding that if you lead the system, you are part of the system.

Funny enough, the lesson is a lot like those missing keys.

Before searching everywhere else, check the place they're most likely to be.

Sometimes, that's the mirror.

Find Your Y

Photo Fair Use Courtesy of Sesame Street

What’s the question you get asked most?

Think about it. The question colleagues, clients, friends, or complete strangers ask the minute they find out what you do.

Now think about how you answer it.

Is it easy peasy breezy? Does the answer roll out before you’ve even finished your coffee? That ease is worth noticing. We sometimes think expertise should look like struggling over complicated answers, quoting research, or reminding everyone how many letters live behind our names.

But expertise often sounds simple because you’ve spent years making the complicated understandable.

Your most frequently asked question may actually be evidence of what other people already recognize as your expertise. And the questions that fascinate you most may tell you something even bigger.

Which brings me to my favorite letter: Y.

Yes, Sesame Street style: Today’s episode is brought to you by the letter Y.

As a Physician who is also an “addiction expert,” the question I probably get asked most is:

“How many people actually stop?”

My answer is almost always another question:

“Why?”

Why are you asking?

Because before I throw a statistic at you, I need to know what information you’re actually looking for.

Are you asking how many people never use a substance again? How many stop drinking or their drug of choice all together? How many dramatically reduce their use? How many return to work, parenting, housing, relationships, and health? Are you asking because you’re treating someone? Loving someone? Losing hope in someone?

Or maybe yourself?

The why changes the answer.

And that’s probably why Y has become my favorite letter.

At collabo™, we believe why is particularly powerful for busy professional women. We spend so much of our lives answering what’s next? What needs to get done? What does the team need? What do the kids need? What problem needs fixing? What box still needs checking?

Excellence can keep you moving so efficiently that you never notice you’ve moved away from yourself.

Why brings you back.

Why am I doing this?
Why does this matter to me?
Why did I choose this work in the first place?
Why am I brilliant at certain things that feel almost effortless to me?

That kind of questioning isn’t another self-improvement assignment. It is a return to insight, wisdom and wholeness—the wisdom underneath all that productivity and applying it to now.

Sometimes insight is knowing the answer deeply.

Sometimes wisdom is knowing that we’ve been asking the wrong question.

Sometimes taking a step back and looking at the big picture is all we need to know why.

So yes, this episode is brought to you by the letter Y.

Because at collabo™, we’re especially interested in what happens when women like you start under standing why.

S.O.S

THEY LIVED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

photo by I&I Collabo

Imagine you wanted to plant a garden. 6 summers after moving into your current home you finally actually decided it was time.

That was me. This June, I walked into WalèMart looking for tomato and squash plants like somebody’s country cousin.

I was on CPT time so of course and it was very late in the season. By the time I pulled up, the garden section looked like a plant nursing home instead of a nursery.

The big, leafy tomatoes with little green babies already growing? Gone. There - Terminal Tomatoes.

The squash plants standing tall like valedictorian? Gone. There - Zombified Zucchini.

What was left looked like it had been through three famines, two heat waves, and a hostile corporate takeover. Leaves yellow. Stems bent. Soil dry as an airport Popeyes biscuit without the margarine spread.

And what did I do? I picked up three of them.

Halfway to the checkout I stopped and laughed.

“Whyyyy oh why are you always trying to save something?”

If that wasn’t the story of so many us women, I don’t know what is.

We don’t just buy the struggling squash plant. We become the struggling squash plant’s life coach.

We walk into jobs few want because “it’s a quiet opportunity.” We volunteer for committees that everybody else somehow forgot to sign up for. We tend and nend broken systems, become the office go-to girl, cover everybody’s shift, disregard disrespect with a smile, and then wonder why we leave on Friday wanting to….(get creative!)

Somewhere along the way we confused and then convinced others that value equals avail.

Somewhere we learned that if we could just resuscitate just one more dying thing, somebody would finally see our worth.

But lovely one, listen here.

Everything with potential is not your professional or (ahem) personal assignment.

Just because you can resurrect it doesn’t mean God wrote your name on it.

You are not the emergency contact for every struggling workplace, every dysfunctional team, every underfunded project, or every person who suddenly “needs your wisdom” after ignoring your expertise for years.

We’ve all had that supervisor who looked at us like, “Yeah, you’ll figure it out.”

Yes Ma’am and, where is the budget? Where is the staff? Where is the support? How has this situation panned out in the past for y’all?

Don’t hand me a dead plant and call it leadership.Because at the end of the day, it is living people’s lives and livelihoods that are on the line.

Now, did I buy those tomatoes?

Absolutely.

Because we are bad mamajama’s and we are talented, and stubborn, and have big beautiful hearts full of hope and vision, and already have an unlimited supply of mineral rich, luscious soil and fertilizer at home.

Or did I buy them because I wanted to save them, saw their potential and knew they could grow? 

Or was it because they were all I believed I deserved, all I could find at the time and was determined to finally grow my damn garden this summer,finally?

Let’s stop treating ourselves like women who should be grateful for whatever is left on the shelf.

You are not the “pick me” candidate. You are not the backup plan. You are not the fixer of every mess simply because you’ve become good at surviving them.

The healthiest gardens don’t grow because one determined but exhausted woman keeps reviving dying plants.

They grow because they’re planted in good soil from the beginning.

May this be the season you stop proving you can survive impossible conditions and start expecting to flourish in places that were prepared for someone exactly like you.

Sis… If I Had Legs I'd Kick You Wasn't Just a Movie. It Was a Mirror.

Image for Fair Use: ABC News

Ok if you know anything about this movie, this may sound like a far cry but hear me out. I mean ASAP Rocky was in a leading role if that means anything :) But also…

Have you ever watched a movie that left you feeling exposed?

Not because it reminded you of one bad day—but because it quietly reflected years of carrying too much without even realizing how heavy it had become.

That's exactly what If I Had Legs I'd Kick You did for me.

As I&I women, especially those of us who heal and serve for a living, we're fluent in survival. We can serve dozens in a day, lead a meeting, comfort a family, answer twenty 11 inbox messages, make it to basketball practice, check on our mama, and somehow still convince everyone around us we're "doing fine."

Yes ma’am... we're Olympic-level mask wearers.

The mother in this film isn't falling apart because she's weak. She's falling apart because she's been too strong for far too long.

And if we're honest?

Many of us know exactly what that feels like.

We were raised to push through. To pray through. To smile through. To work twice as hard for others for half the recognition. Somewhere along the way, we started believing that needing support meant we weren't built for this.

So we keep going.

Until our bodies start talking louder than our mouths.

Until we're snapping at people we love.

Until joy starts feeling unfamiliar.

Until we realize we've become experts at taking care of everyone except ourselves.

Now don't get me wrong—therapy has improved countless lives. Many of us wouldn't be where we are without it.

But here's the question this movie made me ask:

Why are so many high-achieving women who help others still exhausted... even after they've learned the language of healing?

Sometimes we can explain every childhood wound, every attachment style, every trauma response—and still wake up every morning living inside the exact same patterns.

Because awareness is the beginning.

It isn't the destination.

Nobody taught us how perfectionism shows up in how we meticulously manage others.

Nobody taught us how code switching changes the way we speak in meetings.

Nobody taught us how being "the strong one" quietly becomes our entire identity.

Nobody taught us how centuries of carrying our families, our communities, and our workplaces could settle into our systems.

That's why we created collabo.

Not because we need another leadership or burnout course.

Not because we need another motivational quote.

But because we believe we need each other.

We need spaces where accomplished women can finally say, "I don't know."

Where asking questions isn't seen as weakness.

Where mentorship replaces competition.

Where purpose gets louder than performance.

At collabo we talk about three things: meaning, mastery, and mentorship.

Meaning reminds you why little girl you dreamed of becoming a healer in the first place.

Mastery helps you become deeply confident—not because you know everything, but because you're no longer afraid of what you don't know.

Mentorship reminds you that none of us were ever supposed to carry this alone.

Watching this movie, I didn't just see one overwhelmed crazy white woman mother.

I saw all professional women busy helping others when they need help. I saw physicians, nurse practitioners, PAs, teachers, social workers and therapists with sometimes overwhelming and complex lives.

I saw us.

The healing we've been searching for isn't about becoming stronger or more resilient, it's about finally putting some of the weight down.

Because we have never had a strength problem.

We've had a support problem.

And that's exactly what collabo was built to change.

AND that is where collabo seeks to offer something different.

At collabo, we believe shift begins with small doses of self-awareness. Not simply asking, "How are you feeling?" but asking, "Who have you become while trying to help everyone else?"

Our framework rests on three pillars:

Meaning reminds us why we entered healing before productivity metrics, inboxes, and endless documentation began defining success.

Mastery develops genuine confidence that comes from mentorship, reflection, and continuous learning—not from pretending to have all the answers.

Mentorship creates safe relationships where uncertainty is welcomed rather than hidden, allowing witnessed growth without shame.

The mother's story illustrates what happens when someone continually gives without receiving the support, perspective, and community needed to remain whole. Her experience is not merely personal—it reflects a broader cultural pattern affecting caregivers everywhere.

Self-awareness is not a luxury reserved for #Sundayresets or wellness retreats. It is a professional competency. A professional woman who understands their own nervous system, emotional triggers, cognitive biases, and patterns of overfunctioning is better equipped to communicate, collaborate, make thoughtful decisions, and provide compassionate care.

Perhaps the greatest lesson from If I Had Legs I'd Kick You is that healing rarely happens in isolation. We are not meant to shoulder impossible burdens alone.

The workforce has spent generations teaching professionals how to care for others. The next generation of must also teach helpers and healers how to care for themselves—and for one another.

Because healthier women create healthier workplaces. Healthier workplaces create healthier systems. And healthier systems ultimately create a healthier world .

That is the future collabo is working to build: less solo, more soul.

When HIPAA Hurts: We Healers Need Each Other

She sat across from me cute and lively with bright yet tired eyes that looked older than her years.

She was young. A mother. A daughter. Someone's whole world.

Her life had been unraveled by addiction—not because she lacked intelligence, strength, or love, but because addiction has a way of convincing people they are alone long before they actually are.

Now she was doing the impossible. She was learning how to live a new life. Every ordinary moment felt uncomfortable and unfamiliar. Every decision she made seemed big. Every day was a battle between who she had been and who she longed to become.

Raising a small child while trying to re-parent herself.

The daughter of hardworking immigrants who loved her deeply but had no language for addiction. In their world, perseverance solved problems. Willpower fixed weakness. Mental suffering endured quietly. They wanted their daughter back, the weekend trips and family parties but they couldn't understand why she couldn't simply choose to be the person she once was.

So she carried two burdens: recovery itself being misunderstood.

Listen.

Encourage.

Witness.

Holding enough hope to borrow for herself.

She left and I remained.

This is the part few people talk about.

Healthcare teaches us how to maintain boundaries. We learn confidentiality. We learn documentation. We learn HIPAA. These protections are essential because every person deserves dignity and privacy.

But somewhere along the way, many healers began believing that confidentiality meant isolation.

We quietly carry story after story.

We absorb grief, trauma, fear, shame, loss, and heartbreak.

We cannot tell our spouses the details.

We cannot call a friend to process the day.

We cannot post about what moved us.

So we carry it.

One patient.

Then another.

Then another.

Eventually our nervous systems become filing cabinets filled with everyone else's pain.

HIPAA protects patients.

But if we are not careful, the culture surrounding HIPAA can leave healers believing they must suffer in silence.

That was never how healing was intended.

For thousands of years, healing happened in circles.

Midwives gathered.

Elders gathered.

Medicine women gathered.

Physicians consulted one another.

Communities shared burdens that no single person was expected to carry alone.

The healer was never meant to become an island.

At the I&I Collabo, we believe there is another way.

Not by breaking confidentiality.

Not by violating trust.

But by restoring what has been missing from modern healing: community among healers.

A place where all healers,  physicians, nurses, therapists, coaches, traditional practitioners, birth workers, herbalists, bodyworkers, and wellness professionals can process the emotional weight of their calling without compromising the people they serve.

A place where wisdom is exchanged instead of guarded.

A place where compassion circulates instead of becoming stagnant.

Because even the strongest healer needs someone who understands the invisible work.

Healing should never be a solitary act.

When healers heal together, everyone benefits.

The patients.

The practitioners.

The families.

The generations that follow.

Perhaps that is what collaboration has always meant—not simply working alongside one another, but carrying one another when the work becomes heavy.

That is the vision of the I&I Collabo.

Less isolation.

More integration.

Less burden.

More belonging.

Because the people who help heal the world deserve a place to heal, too.