Let me tell you about the time I thought I was Superwoman.
Spoiler alert: I was not.
I’m Dr. Change, PhD — I teach people how to grow, lead, and show up with boldness in every room they walk into. But before the degrees, the leadership coaching, and the boardrooms, there was a chapter of my life that tested every ounce of my sanity.
During my Master’s, I had two babies in 11 months.
Even matatus take a breather between trips — but there I was, juggling diapers, deadlines, and toxic bosses like a full-time hustler.
Picture this: breastfeeding on one side, holding textbooks on the other, all while working a full-time job. My boss? Let’s just say they gave off serious National Geographic vibes — like every day was a survival episode, and I was the prey being tracked by a very patient predator.
Then came the moment that nearly broke me.
My daughter got scalded by the nanny… and I only found out days later.
I was devastated. I felt like a terrible mum.
And just when I thought it couldn’t get worse—school hit me with an academic warning.
For those who don’t know, that’s basically the university’s polite way of saying, “One more slip and you’re out.”
My GPA had dropped below the threshold, and so had my confidence.
That was my breaking point.
I wasn’t winning at school.
I wasn’t winning at work.
And I definitely wasn’t winning at home.
And here’s why I’m telling you this story:
So many people look at women who “made it” and assume they had it easy. That they’re extra smart. That they had a perfect plan, matching stationery, and maybe even a Pinterest-worthy work-life balance.
Listen—I didn’t have a plan. I had a meltdown.
But I also had grit.
So, I did what high-achieving women hate to do: I asked for help.
- My husband stepped in more at home.
- I restructured childcare.
- I dropped my course load to what I could handle well.
- I moved to a different department at work—because peace is productivity.
Little by little, I got back on track.
I finished that degree.
And I learned one of the greatest lessons of my life:
Success isn’t about ease.
It’s about strategy, boundaries, and knowing when to pass the baton.
Today, at Elite Leadership & Governance Center, I work with powerhouse women going through this exact chaos.
They’re not lazy.
They’re not weak.
They’re just drowning silently—because no one told them that balance requires backup.
So, to anyone in the thick of it, hear me:
You don’t need to be Superwoman.
You just need to be human—with a plan.
Let’s go.
