You were born on an island and left it before you were old enough to decide. Two countries, two accents, two sets of rules, and you were still a little girl. Most people spend their whole lives learning to walk into a room that wasn't built for them. You learned it before you lost your baby teeth.
Kansas City got the studious one. IB classes, honor roll, the girl who read psychology for fun because people were the puzzle she actually wanted to solve. Then Mizzou, then a business degree, then China, because three countries wasn't enough and you had to go collect a fourth. You walked the Great Wall on your own two feet and then went out and partied on the other side of the planet like you'd lived there your whole life. Some people study abroad to take pictures. You went to see if you could thrive anywhere. You could.
Atlanta showed you how big you could be. Kansas City got you back, and then you went and got the MBA on top of everything else, like you needed to be sure. And while you were earning it, you built Stush, because apparently one full-time thing was never going to hold you. Somewhere in there you became the woman who protects her peace on purpose. Pilates in the morning. Meditation when the noise gets loud. Holistic over hype. Pickleball because you'd rather win than sit still. The person who walks into any room, in any city, on any continent, and makes it hers in about four minutes. That isn't luck. That's thirty years of practice.
You've lived more lives than most people get, and you were paying attention for every one of them. I'm proud of the woman you are. Not the one you're becoming. The one standing here, right now, who did the work and earned every bit of this.
Happy birthday, Shadaby. The world is lucky it got you.