An incredible one—four days holed up in an Utah mansion with forty of the country’s top sales reps, sales leaders and founders felt like a mix between intensive group therapy and a self-discovery boot camp. If you’re imagining something out of a wildly entertaining but wholesome Sunday reality TV binge, you’re pretty close. I arrived with my tank half-full, worn down from balancing my startup, higher education, and life itself. Almost three years into bootstrapped entrepreneurship (company #2), I often wonder what kind of crazy person would choose this path starting at 26 years old. Thankfully, my kind of crazy fit right in with this group of top performers on a similar mission to RevUp without wearing down. 

Over those four days, I went through cycles of breakdowns and breakthroughs. One minute, I’d be wrestling with doubts about my path; the next, I’d hit a high that made the struggle feel worth it. I had emotional breakthroughs in front of people who were essentially strangers—peers who, in their own ways, were also caught in the grind of performance metrics and life’s unpredictability. It was strange, exposing that vulnerable part of myself I usually reserve exclusively for therapy and my mom. But I found that what I had internally mislabeled hysteria, thanks to years of conditioning that women are “too emotional,” was received as normal and mirrored in ways I didn’t expect. We all struggle with the question, “Why am I doing this?” That realization, paired with learning the real work it takes to turn burnout into breakthrough, has changed the game for me. 

I realized just how closely my work has become tied to my sense of identity and purpose. For years, I’ve felt like I had to prove myself—especially as a woman in a field that often expects more from us just to be seen as equals. There were moments when I just wanted to quit, to let someone else fight the fight. And there were moments when asking for help felt like admitting defeat. I came across Alluviance at a critical point in self-discovery, second-guessing every move, only to realize my soul was desperate for attention. It’s easy to forget we are *Human Beings*—human nature welcomes us into the machine (ft. Pink Floyd), but *being* calls for a different kind of fulfillment. 

This experience made me rethink what support looks like. Here I was, surrounded by a male dominant group of professionals (and incredible women, but that’s not what this post is about), and I’d expected to feel isolated. But they surprised me. They listened, shared, and even cried with and for me. For the first time in a long time, I felt truly seen. The respect and camaraderie I found in this group were unexpected, and it felt healing to connect with people who, despite different backgrounds, understood the pressures and self-doubt that come with being in the “ring” of professional life. I have incredible friendships with men in my industry but have also faced experiences that made me want to retreat. Ultimately, I realized God led me to a container full of great men so I could experience support on another level. Without that, the deep wounds I had misattributed to all men—despite only a few being at fault—might still weigh heavily on my shoulders. 

In the end, I didn’t leave Utah with all the answers. But I left with a renewed sense of why I started on this path in the first place, and an incredible group of friends who are on the same journey of self-discovery and healing. This post is my way of reclaiming that purpose and reminding myself—and maybe even you, the reader—that it’s okay not to have it all figured out. The road to becoming who we’re meant to be is often long and messy, but maybe the question isn’t “How do I stay on course?” but rather “What will I discover if I keep going?”

Author: Maya Madden