The Transformation You Didn't Ask For
What do you do when transformation doesn't wait for you to be ready?
I learned the answer the hard way:
1992 Germany: I'm unpacking boxes in a country that suddenly feels foreign.
Six months earlier, I had a sun-drenched flat overlooking the Pacific. A racing bike. Friends who'd furnished my entire apartment from garage sales because "that's what we do here." A life I built from two suitcases and sheer determination.
Then the Gulf War hit. The US economy collapsed. Renewal of work visas for foreigners? Impossible.
I had to give it all up.
The job I loved.
The flat with the view.
My treasured belongings collected one piece at a time.
My racing bike.
My carefully constructed new life in San Francisco.
With every item I sold or gave away, I felt sicker. Like my life was literally disappearing.
Here's what nobody tells you about transformation:
Sometimes you don't lead it. It leads you.
And the worst part? I came back different. I'd changed in ways I couldn't undo.
I questioned customs I used to accept.
I spoke up when I was supposed to stay quiet.
I smiled at cashiers and strangers when that "just wasn't done."
My family and friends were embarrassed. "You just don't do that..."
I did it anyway.
Because I'd seen what was possible. I'd worked under an incredible boss at a 5-star hotel, 400 people from 50 nations; speaking up was expected, falling apart was allowed, and kindness wasn't performance theater.
I couldn't unsee it. Couldn't unfeel it. Couldn't go back to pretending everything was fine.
That's the thing about involuntary transformation:
You don't get to choose the timing.
You don't get to control the pace.
You don't get to decide if you're ready.
But you DO get to choose how you show up.
I could have buried who I'd become. Made myself small again. Fit back into the system.
Instead, I became a rebel. Not because I wanted to cause trouble. But because performing conformity became more painful than risking authenticity.
Why I'm telling you this now:
The CEOs aren't resisting AI because they're stubborn.
They're resisting because transformation chose THEM. They didn't choose it.
They feel like I did in 1992—forced to give up what's familiar, what's working, and what they've built. Arriving in a landscape that feels foreign even though it's technically "home."
And everyone's telling them: "Just adapt. Just transform. Just lead your team through this."
But nobody's acknowledging that they're grieving. That they're disoriented. That they feel they need to do things differently and don't know if that's "allowed."
Here's what actually helps:
Not more urgency. Not more "you're behind."
Recognition that transformation without choice is fundamentally different than transformation by design.
Space to grieve what's ending before rushing toward what's next.
Permission to question the old customs even when people say "we just don't do that."
And proof—actual proof—that showing up as your changed self is not just allowed, it's essential.
The leaders who thrive through AI disruption aren't the ones who pretend they're fine.
They're the ones who are not afraid to say, "This is hard. I didn't choose this timeline. And I'm going to lead through it anyway."
Just like I did in 1992.
When transformation chooses you, you don't have to perform confidence.
You just have to keep showing up.
Changed.
Real.
A little rebellious.
And trust that the people watching need to see THAT more than they need to see perfection.
P.S. If you're leading through a transformation you didn't choose and feeling like you're supposed to have it all figured out—you're not alone. And you don't have to pretend.
If you want a conversation about leading through disruption without the performance theater. Let's talk!
