Adversity

We all struggle. And my struggles have been sharp, relentless, and sometimes breathtaking in their weight.

I’ve lost a parent before I was ready.
I’ve sat alone at the top of global boardrooms where there was no blueprint, no comforting hand, and certainly no guarantees.
I’ve made impossible calls with a trembling pen, and steered thousands of people through crises that would keep most awake for years.
I’ve navigated board politics, public scrutiny, private heartbreak, and the simple ache of giving more of myself than I ever thought possible — over and over again.

Yet here I am: not broken, but more wholly myself than I have ever been.

When life sends a blow that would have flattened the girl I once was — I return to her.
I picture the young Harriet, curled up in bed the day I lost my father.
I see her fear, her tiny shoulders carrying grief too big for her age.
And I whisper to her —
Look at all you will do.
Look at who you will become.
You will lead armies of people who believe in better because you did.
You will lose, and you will rise — not bitter, but more generous.
You will mother, grandmother, mentor, fight, and love with your whole heart.
You will stand back up every single time — and sometimes, you will dance while you do it.

This is my touchstone.
It reminds me that adversity does not get to write my ending — I do.

If you’re reading this and feel alone in your hardship — borrow my ritual.
Talk to the young you. Show them how far you’ve come, how much is still possible.
I promise, it changes everything.