While We Are Still Becoming

Walang pera — pause.
Hindi pumasa sa exam — pause.
May nagawang mali — pause.

We have many reasons to put our lives on hold. Sometimes, we treat these moments as signals that everything must stop—as if progress and happiness must wait. But life rarely works that way.

For women, the pauses can come in other forms. When I gave birth to my two children, life slowed down in ways no career plan could have predicted. There was even a scholarship opportunity in New Zealand that I had to forgo because I was still breastfeeding my daughter. Those moments were pauses—but not endings. They were seasons. And when the season passed, life had to move forward again.

I once learned something about this during a job interview that was far from gentle. At one point, the interviewer looked at my résumé and said bluntly, “You seem like a confused person. You’ve done too many different things.”

I understood what she meant.

I am an underbar. For a time, I was also a networker, building relationships and learning the discipline of sales and entrepreneurship through a part-time direct-selling business. Later, I became a mediator. I worked in policy. Later in my career, as a Director, I worked in Human Resources, and during that time, I also spent a year as a graduate scholar and full-time student. After that, I moved into records management. At the same time, I worked on IT and digital transformation while serving as a project manager for a major modernization initiative.

To someone searching for a neat and straight line, my career probably looked scattered.

Life rarely unfolds in straight lines. We often assume careers must be linear—one ladder, one track, one predictable progression. Yet most meaningful lives are not built that way. Our journeys move more like spirals.

We cycle through experiences. We gain skills in unexpected places. We fail in one area and grow in another. We step into roles we never imagined when we first began.

What appears confusing from the outside may actually be formation.

Yet somewhere along the way, we begin telling ourselves that life must pause. No money — pause. Did not pass the exam — pause. Made a mistake — pause. In doing so, we quietly postpone something else: happiness.

We tell ourselves we will celebrate when the promotion comes. We will relax when the finances improve. We will feel fulfilled when everything finally aligns. But joy does not live only at the finish line.

If we fail to find happiness in the small things—the lessons learned, the unexpected opportunities, the people who walked with us along the way—then even the biggest achievements may feel strangely incomplete.

Happiness was never meant to arrive only when everything is perfect. It was meant to accompany us while we are still becoming. Our lives do not stop because of failures. They do not stop because we did not pass an exam, or because money was scarce, or because we made mistakes. Those are moments. They are not endings. Human lives were never meant to remain paused.

We are thriving individuals, capable of learning across disciplines, adapting across seasons, and growing through the turns we did not plan. Perhaps most importantly, we are not wandering without direction.

God does not ask us to be perfect. But He does ask us to be deliberate—to keep moving, keep learning, and keep trusting that even the unexpected paths have meaning.

So when life seems to pause, perhaps the deeper question is not “Why did this happen?” Perhaps it is this:

Am I still able to see the joy that God has placed along the way?

Perhaps the real tragedy is not that life pauses—but that we forget to see the joy God placed in the journey while we are still becoming.

— Director Noreen

Women's Month Series | Part 5 - Love, Power, and Archetypes: What The Vampire Diaries Exposes About Gender and Leadership

For a supernatural drama, The Vampire Diaries ran for almost eight seasons with surprising staying power. It was fiction—melodramatic, romantic, immortal. And yet, metaphorically speaking, it spoke to me.

Beneath the fangs and endless love triangles, something about power kept pulling me back: who holds it, who is forgiven, who is judged, and how gender shapes all of that. 

After many years in the public sector, I have learned that sometimes fiction names what formal strategy documents cannot.

Elena: Finding Her Own Voice

Elena Gilbert begins as someone everyone wants to protect. She is valued, pursued, even sacrificed for. But protection often comes with assumption—others deciding on her behalf.

When she grows stronger and claims authority, the tone shifts. Her choices are scrutinized. Her emotions become political.

In workplaces, many women begin as “promising” and “supported.” But once they exercise full authority, strength is read as coldness, decisiveness as instability. I have seen a woman’s tone dissected before her logic was evaluated.

Elena’s arc asks a question institutions rarely confront: When does protection become paternalism?

Stefan and Damon: Competing Power Models

Stefan Salvatore represents moral restraint—principled, self-critical, burdened by guilt. Damon Salvatore represents disruptive force—charismatic, decisive, emotionally intense.

Every organization has both. The Stefan types stabilize systems. They read policies carefully. They fear causing harm. Under pressure, they withdraw and overanalyze. The Damon types energize reform. They act quickly, confront hierarchy, and inspire loyalty. Under stress, they dominate or polarize.

Institutions publicly reward Damons. They quietly depend on Stefans. But both share one truth: leadership without emotional regulation fractures systems. Whether through paralysis or aggression, unprocessed wounds show up in decision-making.

Katherine: The Strategic Survivor

Katherine Pierce is often labeled manipulative. But she survives by reading power structures accurately. She anticipates shifts. She protects herself strategically.

In real life, women who negotiate firmly are called difficult. Women who protect their interests are called calculating. Yet the same behaviors in men are described as tactical.

The more competitive the system, the more Katherines it produces. The question is not whether they exist. It is what kind of institutional climate made survival strategy necessary.

Trauma and Redemption

What makes the series resonate is that everyone leads while wounded—by loss, betrayal, regret.

In institutions, we speak of competencies and outputs, but rarely of scars. Yet many leaders operate from invisible fractures: failed reforms, public criticism, broken trust.

I once believed a reform initiative was ready for implementation. The institution was not—or perhaps I misread readiness. That experience did not make me cynical. It made me more careful about timing, power mapping, and emotional currents.

The show’s mythology—resurrection, consequences, redemption—reminds us that leadership is iterative. You fail. You face consequences. You choose again.

What defines legacy is not error-free authority. It is corrective humility.

The Gender Dimension: Who Is Allowed Complexity?

Male characters in the series are permitted to be morally ambiguous and still redeemed. Female characters must justify their emotions more thoroughly.mMen are evaluated on potential. Women are evaluated on consistency.

In many workplaces, promising men are described as “complex.” Promising women are described as “problematic” for the same intensity. No one announces it in meetings. But you can feel it.

Archetypes in Our Own Offices

We do not literally work with Elenas, Stefans, Damons, or Katherines. But we see the patterns:

• The Elena who carries emotional labor quietly.
• The Stefan who absorbs responsibility.
• The Damon who disrupts.
• The Katherine who survives strategically.

If we are honest, we are not only one. Early in my career, I was more Elena—absorbing expectations and trying to keep peace. Experience added a bit of Stefan’s restraint. Institutional realities taught me selective Damon-like courage. And, when necessary, Katherine’s strategic patience.

The danger is not in having these traits but in  being trapped in only one. Too much Elena means over-sacrifice. Too much Stefan means paralysis. Too much Damon means instability. Too much Katherine means distrust. Mature leadership integrates without losing conscience.

Director’s Cut Reflection

The Vampire Diaries may be fiction. But for almost eight seasons, it staged what many institutions prefer to soften: the tension between power and conscience.

Leadership is not about immortality. It is not about dominance. It is about restraint. It is about judgment. It is about who you become when no one is correcting you.

When authority shifts to you —
Do you protect, or do you control?
Do you regulate yourself, or regulate everyone else?
Do you seek loyalty, or do you earn trust?

Gender will influence how your choices are interpreted. Institutions will reward some archetypes more than others. But in the end, interpretation is noise. Character is signal.

When the room turns to you — which version of you answers? That answer, repeated quietly over time, becomes your legacy.

- Director Noreen