Reflections on Returning, Realignment, and 2.34 Million Minutes

Goofin' with my friend and associate Frank before an interview on the purple carpet at an XUSC event.

Well hello, friends. It’s been a minute—or, more accurately, about 2.34 million minutes—since I last wrote here. What in the world could I have been doing? 

Short answer: a lot.
Long answer: let’s dig in.

Professionally
In August 2021, I left Future plc to join THE rAVe Agency. At the time, it felt like a meaningful step forward—but I had no idea just how life-changing that decision would turn out to be.
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Over the next several years, I worked alongside some incredibly creative people and was given the space to explore in ways I hadn’t before. I deepened my experience in video production; dove into emerging technologies like XR, virtual production, and AI; and stretched creatively in ways that felt both energizing and expansive. I traveled, built new industry relationships, and found myself enjoying a level of creative freedom that reshaped how I thought about my work—and what I wanted from it.

And then, as life tends to do, things shifted. In 2023, I was laid off—a moment that brought gradual clarity about what was and wasn’t sustainable, aligned, or worth continuing to build. What initially felt like a setback quickly revealed itself as a necessary interruption.

After an initial wave of panic—and calls to trusted colleagues and friends to talk through next steps—I realized the most aligned move was to pause. Instead of chasing a fast solution, I gave myself the space to reflect on what I truly wanted and needed from my career. I was no longer interested in momentum for momentum’s sake; I wanted work that aligned with my ambitions, my values, and a rapidly changing life.

What I initially imagined as a brief pause to settle things at home (more on that later) became a 10-month parenting break—one that did wonders for my mental health and brought a level of clarity I didn’t realize I needed. That time helped reshape how I think about work, leadership, and pace. 

During that pause, I became earned a Level 1 Reiki certification, which deepened my desire to align energy, home, and profession. I realized I didn’t want to return to a fast-paced, high-travel role. I wanted work that felt fulfilling both professionally and personally—something grounded, sustainable, and supportive of the life I was actively building. 

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Felix and I at an Elmhurst Chamber of Commerce networking event.

​I needed a softer landing. Enter Drain Guys Chicago.

Felix, the owner and founder of Drain Guys, has been a friend for years. When we finally caught up after some time apart, it became clear how much synergy there was between us. He was looking for a partner to help guide the company’s expansion—through business development, marketing, and a forward-looking strategy for the future. I was looking for an environment that understood something fundamental: living an authentic life and prioritizing family mattered as much as professional success. Felix understood that instinctively. 

​In October 2025, I stepped into the role of CEO of Drain Guys Chicago. It’s been a dream. I have creative freedom, my ideas are valued and put into action, and I’m able to lead and build without sacrificing time with my family. The balance feels real—and the work feels aligned.

With that foundation in place, the story shifts from what’s happened to what’s ahead. As we move into 2026, Drain Guys Chicago is entering a period of focused growth—expanding our capabilities, strengthening our team, and stepping into a new era of work. With an increased emphasis on trenchless sewer repair, we’re investing in advanced skills, smarter solutions, and long-term value for both our clients, team, and community.

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Mayalan performing at the baby blessing.

Personally
Writing this part feels a little tender, but also important to share. Those who know me best understand my life is private but not secret. So here we go...

Shortly before joining rAVe, I was already in the midst of meaningful change—reshaping my home life and adjusting to a post-pandemic(ish) rhythm. I realigned priorities, reimagined my space, and made room for what felt restorative and true. I was enjoying a gradual return to travel, reconnecting with friends, and continuing the ongoing work of growth and self-reflection that has always grounded me.

In 2023, life surprised me in the best possible way when I discovered I was unexpectedly pregnant. Almost immediately, I began adjusting my world to accommodate the path unfolding in front of me.

The pregnancy came with complications—rare ones that required close monitoring and a great deal of medical care. By the seventh month, my weeks were structured around frequent appointments, constant check-ins, and a heightened awareness that not everything was within my control. During that time, work was incredibly supportive, and I was surrounded by colleagues who stepped in without hesitation. I remain deeply grateful for the care, companionship, and steadiness of people like Abbie, Emily, Kelcie, Keri, and Steph.

One Monday, the doctors felt hopeful we could safely extend things a bit longer (a month to be exact). Two days later, that plan changed. I was sent to Labor & Delivery and welcomed my daughter via an emergency C-section. After several weeks in the NICU, she finally came home—already unmistakably herself (anyone who knew how active she was in the womb wouldn't be surprised to hear that).

I was fortunate to have time to focus on healing and bonding, though the early months were shaped by ongoing medical appointments for both of us, including my own postpartum recovery and complications. It was a season that required patience, resilience, and a deep recalibration of what mattered most.

Returning to work was challenging, but I was supported in ways that truly sustained me. I had a flexible, understanding team, the ability to work from home, and a Nana who happily stepped in to care for my daughter while I worked. Knowing she was safe—and just a few feet away—did wonders for my mental health. She was still so physically small (she didn’t begin fitting into newborn clothes until around 2.5 months), and daycare simply wasn’t a safe option at that stage. We found our rhythm: me working, my mom caring for her, and spending our free time adventuring with friends.

In July 2024, my stepfather didn't feel well and went to the hospital. After two long weeks, he was diagnosed with a rare and terminal cancer. Overnight, everything changed. Life became a cycle of medical appointments, caregiving, and scrambling to adjust schedules. Once again, support showed up. A friend’s college-aged sister was looking for her first job and began watching my daughter twice a week, while my mom cared for her the other two days. Even while navigating cancer and caregiving, my mom somehow made room for more—helped along by my stepfather, who adored my daughter beyond words.
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There was still joy woven into our lives. We went to the pumpkin farm. We laughed at our feral, spirited little girl. She turned one, and we celebrated with hibachi on her birthday and a party that weekend. Watching the way my friends and family loved her filled me with gratitude.

​Around Christmas, my stepfather’s bloodwork and scans looked promising. He had stopped chemotherapy, but his health continued to decline. Then, on January 2, 2025, I was unexpectedly laid off. A week later, my stepfather entered hospice. He passed away three weeks after that—on my daughter’s due date. Poetic and fated in a way that’s hard to put into words; he used to say his goal was simply to make it to her first birthday.

The months that followed were heavy. My mom had lost her husband of more than 40 years. My daughter lost her Papa. And I was trying to understand who I was beyond work and motherhood.

​I poured my energy into my daughter. She joined gymnastics, music, yoga, and dance (not all at once, don't come at me for over-scheduling!). I joined a local moms group to feel more connected to our community. What I didn’t expect was how much that shift would open my world. Through those classes and that group, my daughter made friends—and so did I. 

I’ve always had close friends, many with children my daughter’s age, and I never thought I needed “mom friends.” I was wrong. Meeting these women changed my perspective. Our lives look different, but we share so much beyond our children. They went from being my kid’s friends’ moms to being my friends. And those friendships reminded me that I needed to fill my own cup too—that it was okay to want conversations that weren’t only about motherhood.

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Dance of the Sky Dragons Jan 2026

That’s when creativity quietly returned. I started coloring after my daughter went to sleep. Then painting rocks. Then, eventually, canvas.

Art has never come easily to me. I’m hard on myself. I have no formal training. I want things to be perfect. Learning to let go—creating purely for myself, without expectation—was transformative. That lesson spilled into other areas of my life: progress over perfection.

I realized I couldn’t be a good mom, friend, or colleague if I wasn’t taking care of myself first. In the spring of 2025, I completed my Level 1 Reiki certification. I returned to sound healing, cupping, and massage as forms of self-care. Slowly, I began to feel more balanced, more restored—“getting my pink back” as they say. 

When I began working with Drain Guys, I felt a deep sense of satisfaction in writing again. I brought that into my creative practice as well, pairing each painting with a written story—another way of integrating work, art, and reflection.
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Through all of this, I've learned that alignment isn’t something you find—it’s something you build, slowly and deliberately, across all parts of your life. All of these threads—work, art, leadership, and life—now feel less separate than they once did. I’m building and creating from a place that feels intentional and honest to who I am today.

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