“Watch Me.” What My 17-Year-Old Taught Me About Courage, Doubt, and Becoming

While driving home from dance class this morning, my daughter Isabeau and I had a quiet moment that turned into a conversation I’ll remember for the rest of my life. She’s 17 now. And if you’ve followed my posts, you know she’s lived a life filled with extraordinary medical challenges. Nine out of twelve months a year, she’s in and out of hospitals. Every day is about fighting to stay here, to move forward, to live.

We discussed what comes next…COLLEGE, independence, life after high school. And while I tried to hide the fear in my voice, it was there. Because how do you let go when so much of your energy has been spent just keeping someone alive?

When I asked her what she was thinking, she paused for a long time, then quietly said:

“Maybe I’ll find a college close to home. I want to be near you, and also… I need to make sure you can get to me quickly if anything happens.”

Then she added something I’ll never forget:

“I know not many people believe I can do this. That I can be on my own, go to college, live life without you watching me every second. But I need them to know … watch me!”

That hit deep.

Because it’s not just her story.

It’s the story of so many people at home and in the workplace.

We see it all the time.

• The person managing invisible battles while still showing up.

• The colleague who logs into every call with a smile, even when they’re carrying the weight of a personal crisis.

• The parent is juggling caregiving responsibilities that no one sees.

• The new hire is pushing through imposter syndrome.

• The individual facing chronic illness, mental health challenges, or grief while still meeting deadlines, contributing ideas, and making space for others.

  
  

They’re all quietly saying, “Watch me!”

And too often, we miss it because we’re trained to value visibility over vulnerability, output over context. But what if we shifted that?

What if leadership meant listening for what’s unsaid?

What if empathy and flexibility weren’t perks, but standards?

What if success looked like creating room for people to be fully human, not just professionally polished?

As a leader and as a mother, I’m learning that belief … real belief that can be the difference between someone barely holding on and someone rising beyond what anyone imagined.

So here’s my ask to you:

Look around your team. Who might be quietly carrying more than you know?

And how can you show them that you see them, not just for what they do, but for what they overcome to do it?

Because when we believe in people, we don’t just get better outcomes.

We build better humans.

And better workplaces.

Isabeau’s journey is just beginning. And even though the fear is real, so is the hope.

She’s not just going to survive.

She’s going to thrive.

And she’s going to show the world exactly who she is.

Watch her. Watch me. Watch us.