There are moments when someone says something simple, and yet it stays with you because it names something you already know but maybe haven’t fully put into words.
Recently, I went in for a skin cancer excision after learning that a spot I had noticed needed to be removed to make sure the margins were clear. As the doctor explained how biopsies work, why extra tissue is taken, and how they make certain nothing concerning remains, I found myself unusually calm. Not because I take any diagnosis lightly, but because, compared to where I’ve been before, this felt manageable. At one point, I told him, almost matter-of-factly, that after a stage 3 breast cancer diagnosis nearly ten years ago, this felt like a much smaller road to walk.
That shifted the conversation. He asked if my breast cancer had been found through a mammogram, and I explained that it had not. I was only 36 at the time, too young for routine screening, and I found it myself because I knew something in my body did not feel right. Then he asked who found the skin cancer. Again, I said I did. I noticed something that didn’t belong, paid attention to it, and made the appointment.
He paused and said, “You really do have to be your own advocate when it comes to your health.”
What struck me is how true that is, far beyond medicine. There are so many places in life where no one hands you a script for what to notice, when to speak up, or how long to keep pushing for what matters. Sometimes you are simply the person who decides not to ignore what feels off, incomplete, or important.
That instinct has shown up in my life more times than I realized.
Years ago, when our children were in elementary school, I became PTA president at their school. It was supposed to be a two-year commitment, but I stayed for three because no one wanted the role after that. It was a volunteer position, often thankless and sometimes exhausting, but I stayed because I cared deeply about what that school represented and what those children deserved.
It was a Title I school, which means it received federal funding because many of the families needed additional support and resources. Once you spend time inside a school like that, you quickly understand how much the environment matters. Children feel what is available to them and what is missing, too.
So I advocated the same way I tend to do most things by stepping in where I could and staying with it long enough to make something better. We raised money for playground improvements, computers, STEM equipment, and meaningful updates to the library. We added fresh paint, books, rugs, and seating so it felt inviting rather than forgotten. None of those things happened because someone suddenly made them a priority. They happened because enough conversations were had, enough forms were filed, enough meetings were attended, enough funds were raised, and enough people stayed committed.
I still remember attending a county PTA meeting where small rocks were placed on each table, each painted with a different word. People were invited to choose the one that spoke to them. Without hesitation, I picked the one labeled "Advocate."
That rock came home with me and has sat outside my front door for eight years. It moved houses with us, quietly staying in place through all kinds of seasons, being battered by the elements.
Years later, I still see that instinct show up in smaller, everyday moments too.
Recently, Eden has been getting very close to having her braces removed. At one appointment, they began talking about scheduling it, but the date they suggested would have been just a few days after her Sweet 16 party.
Without thinking much about it, I said, “Oh, we were so close to her getting to debut her new smile at her Sweet 16.”
The hygienist paused, asked when the party was, and when I told her, she said, “Hold on,” then ran off to ask the orthodontist if there was any way to make it work.
When she came back, she said, “Let’s do this. We can’t promise anything, but we’ll see how it goes.”
That felt meaningful in itself, not because we suddenly had certainty, but because sometimes simply asking creates a possibility that wasn’t there a moment before.
On the drive to her next check-in appointment, Eden said to me very calmly, “I don’t think this is happening, but thanks for trying.”
She had already made peace with it and decided that if the braces stayed on for the party, she would just have them put pink bands on to match her dress.
And honestly, I loved that too. No disappointment. No drama. Just flexibility.
But at that appointment, they adjusted the one small area they were still watching, the only thing holding things up. By that evening, it had already started shifting.
Later that night, she came running to me, saying, “Mom… oh my gosh, there is still hope.”
We still don’t know exactly how it will turn out, but what mattered to me was that we tried.
Because sometimes advocating for someone doesn’t mean forcing an outcome. It simply means caring enough to ask if there’s another possibility and being okay with whatever the answer may be.
The same is true in business and leadership, too. No one will ever know your vision, your standards, or your instincts better than you do. Advice matters. Expertise matters. But there are still moments when you have to trust what you know enough to ask another question, challenge a timeline, or speak up when something feels important.
Looking back, I realize advocacy has shaped far more of my life than I ever consciously named in my health, in parenting, in leadership, and in the moments where something mattered enough to stay with it until it changed.
Maybe that is why that little rock stayed by my front door all these years. Not as decoration, but as a quiet reminder that some of the most important things in life change because someone chose to notice… and not walk past it.