Birthday Reflections: The 5 Hard-Earned Lessons This Year has Taught Me

Today I celebrate another year of life, and I want to be honest. 2025 dragged me across a landscape of change, disruption, uncertainty, and unexpected opportunity. It challenged me to understand myself, my career, and the world of work in ways I never anticipated.

But I came out of it clearer. Stronger. Sharper. And far more aware of what it takes to thrive in a world moving faster than any of us are comfortable with.

These are the five lessons that redefined me this year.

1. Reinvention is no longer optional. It is survival.

I used to think reinvention was something you did once in a while, usually after a big life moment, or a shift in career direction. Something deliberate. Something paced. Something you prepared for.

This year proved otherwise.

Losing a job knocked the wind out of me. It shifted my identity, my routine, my sense of security. It forced me into the quiet space where you confront the question: Now what?
But it also thrust me into authorship, AI and analytics, new leadership spaces, and a deeper sense of purpose.

Reinvention is not a dramatic pivot. It is a capability.
A skill you can practice.
A muscle you must strengthen.
The world is interrupting careers faster than people can update their résumés. Reinvention is no longer a storyline. It is a requirement.

2. The job market is harder than anyone wants to admit. I literally had to write a book to make sense of it.

This year was the first time I have ever seen so many talented, experienced, capable people struggling to find their footing. Not because they lacked skill, but because the ground itself was shifting.
   Political instability.
   Economic uncertainty.
   AI automation.
   Corporate restructuring.
   Burnout.
   Ageism.

A hiring process that increasingly runs through algorithms instead of humans.
I wrote Redefined to understand what was happening, not just to me, but to millions of people experiencing job loss through no fault of their own.

And in speaking with so many of them, I learned this:
   We cannot wait for the job market to make sense.
   We must create our own clarity.
   We must build our own credibility.
   We must cultivate community and visibility long before we need them.

The old rules are gone. The new ones are still being written. And everyone is trying to navigate the fog with limited light.

3. To survive an AI-driven world, you must lean into the things only humans can do.

AI is transforming every part of work: hiring, communication, performance evaluation, skill requirements, productivity, creativity. It is not “coming.” It is here.

If we want to remain relevant, we cannot compete with the machine. We can only double down on the parts of work that machines cannot replicate.
   Critical thinking.
   Ethical decision-making.
   Storytelling.
   Empathy.
   Collaboration.
   Cultural intelligence.
   The ability to navigate ambiguity.

AI can process data.
But it cannot understand people.
It cannot hold the emotional weight of a team.
It cannot rebuild trust after failure.
And it cannot lead with heart.

This year taught me that to have a fighting chance in our brave new world, we have to lean into the skills that make us human.

4. Your talents matter. Wanting someone else’s will not make them yours.

We, humans, are funny creatures. We often admire the talents we lack while ignoring the ones we carry with ease.

I have always wished I could understand math and science with the fluency of an MIT graduate. Meanwhile, my husband, the brilliant engineer and tone-deaf data scientist, has always wanted to be a singer. A singer.

We laugh about it, but the lesson is real: We tend to chase the gifts we admire in others while undervaluing the gifts that define us.
This year showed me that my talent for communication, storytelling, and translating complexity is not a consolation prize. It is my offering. And someone out there needs it.

Your gifts are not mistakes.
Your strengths are not accidents.
Your talent is not a placeholder until something “better” comes along.
Lean into what you bring.
It matters.

5. Grace is not softness. Grace is how you survive transition.

I had to give myself a lot of grace this year. Grace when plans changed. Grace when progress stalled. Grace when I felt behind. Grace when I wasn’t sure what came next.
Grace is not lowering your standards.
Grace is maintaining your humanity while you figure things out.
We love to celebrate grit, resilience, and hustle. But grace is the thing that keeps you standing in the moments when grit isn’t enough.
This year taught me that growth and gentleness can coexist. And that the most powerful thing you can do during a transition is to let yourself be human.

Stepping Into a New Year
If this year taught me anything, it is this: The world is changing fast. Careers are changing faster. But clarity, purpose, and reinvention are still possible. So is joy. So is connection. So is meaning.

I am walking into this next year with sharper insight, deeper gratitude, and a clearer sense of who I am becoming.

Here is to growing with courage.
Here is to walking through disruption with purpose.
And here is to choosing reinvention again and again.