I experienced a tumultuous childhood. Bearing witness to my mother's trauma left a lasting imprint on my life. Through countless moments, I longed to save my mother, my sister, and myself from our home situation. Money, despite being abundant, was used against the women in my family to suppress and control. It became a reason for emotional and physical violence. And so, from an early age, I began to associate money with power, freedom, and care. I often thought, "If I had money, I could save us all."

To follow my own path, I had to leave behind my home and life in Mumbai, India including my mother and sisters and with them, the promises of a different life that I had once expressed. For years, I wrestled with an inner dissonance: guilt, confusion, and the persistent question, how do I show up for people when I can’t write a check? While I wasn’t rich, I was beginning to build a life on my own terms. But I wasn’t yet sure how to make room for others in that process. For the first time, I clearly saw how deeply my sense of worth was intertwined with my work and the financial resources it generated. The thread ran deep.

My mother is having major surgery next week. I’ve been advocating for her within a broken healthcare system, one that often fails immigrants, elders, and those on limited incomes. I’ve also been preparing my home so she can recover under my care and support. In this moment, I find myself fulfilling a dream from childhood not in the way I expected, but in a more intimate, grounded, and human way. I feel so lucky, and deeply grateful, for the chance to care for someone so fiercely independent for the opportunity to show up in a real, tangible way.

About eight years ago, I began to seriously explore the idea of a new job perhaps even a more lucrative career path. Despite working with a career coach, networking, and applying to several deeply aligned roles, all I received in return was rejection or silence. It fueled my sense of worthlessness and stirred a lot of inner angst. But through this pain came a deeper reckoning: I had to first confront my personal life.

I was in a long-term relationship that represented my sense of "stability"—and unraveling it felt terrifying but necessary. The process demanded so much: emotionally, spiritually, logistically. But as I moved through that transition, I also began to find clarity around my career. I felt called to launch my own consulting and coaching practice, to forge my own entrepreneurial path. And though it’s still a spark, it holds a powerful sense of possibility. When I close my eyes and imagine the future, I feel part of something vast. Infinite constellations in the cosmos, representing freedom, alignment, and vision.

In some ways, I’m still chasing the same dream from childhood: to rescue, to care, to live freely. But now, money is no longer the main character. The stage is shared with presence, choice, and leading with heart. Always reminding me: the cosmos is vast, and I am in motion. If you closed your eyes and imagined your own constellation of possibility, what would you see? What dream from your childhood are you still carrying, and how has it changed shape over time?