Nurimas comes from my roots: nuri (누리), the Korean word for "world," and mas, from Trinidad's Carnival traditions. Together, they represent a world big enough to hold all the parts of who we are, where we come from, and who we're becoming. For a long time, I didn't know how to live that way. As a child of two immigrants in a sleepy Southern town, I learned early what success meant: climb out of survival mode, get stable work, build a life, chase the American dream. It took me years to realize I had also learned to hold everything together—to be responsible, capable, and composed no matter the cost. Sometimes that cost was too high. Two Ivy League degrees and several years in BigLaw M&A later, I found myself wondering why everything still felt so hollow. Did I make it? Do I still need to push? Am I doing something wrong? That last question stuck. Self-doubt is quiet but persistent. When you grow up high-achieving, you don't take breaks. You stay calm on the outside even when the inside is worn thin. You perform. And performing works for a while. Until it doesn't. Like many first-gen and diverse professionals, I was stretched too thin to know who I was anymore or what I wanted. I got used to telling people I was fine because it felt easier than admitting I wasn't. I became an insomniac, replaying decisions over and over even when I logically knew I had made the right call. Worst of all, I started missing my old self—the part that loved philosophical rabbit holes, the part that thrived on creative work, the part that wanted to help everyday people become who they want to be. I was succeeding on paper but losing myself in the process. What I needed, and what I didn't know how to give myself, was space. Space to hear my own thoughts. Space to slow down without guilt. Space to figure out what I wanted, not just what was expected. When I finally started listening inward, things shifted. I trusted my instincts. I recognized my own voice in my decisions. I stopped questioning every move I made. I began to feel like myself again. That's why I do this work. I know what it's like to be first-gen, high-achieving, and unsure of yourself in ways that feel unfair for how hard you've worked. And I know what it takes to help you trust your own voice again and reconnect with the version of yourself you miss. At Nurimas, I help people find a quieter mind, steadier emotions, and direction that feels like their own. My goal is simple and honest: I help first-gen and diverse high-achieving professionals learn to trust themselves again and feel like themselves again. Here, you get space to be human—thoughtful, ambitious, tired, hopeful—and build a life that finally feels true to you.