Nurimas comes from my roots: nuri (누리), the Korean word for world, and mas, from Trinidad’s Carnival traditions. Together, they point to a world big enough to hold all the parts of who we are—where we come from, what we carry, and who we’re becoming. For a long time, I didn’t know how to live that way. I grew up as the eldest daughter of two immigrants in a sleepy Southern town. I learned early what success was supposed to look like: get stable, work hard, don’t waste chances, build a life that works. I also learned, without realizing it, to be the responsible one. The composed one. The person who keeps things together no matter the cost. Sometimes that cost was too high. After two Ivy League degrees and several years in BigLaw M&A, I found myself wondering why everything still felt hollow. Had I made it? Why did it still feel like I was pushing? Was something wrong with me? That last question lingered. When you grow up high-achieving, you don’t stop to check in with yourself. You keep going. You stay calm on the outside even when the inside is worn thin. You perform. And performing works... until it doesn’t. Somewhere along the way, I lost touch with myself. I didn’t know what I wanted anymore, only what was expected. I told people I was fine because it felt easier than explaining the quiet exhaustion underneath. I became an insomniac, replaying decisions I had already thought through, questioning myself even when nothing was objectively wrong. What I missed most was my old self—the part that loved philosophical rabbit holes, that felt alive in creative work, that cared deeply about meaning, not just outcomes. I was succeeding on paper, but I wasn’t really living. What I needed (and didn’t know how to give myself) was space. Space to hear my own thoughts. Space to slow down without guilt. Space to want things again. When I finally began listening inward, things shifted. I trusted my instincts. I recognized my own voice in my decisions. I stopped second-guessing every move. I didn’t change everything overnight, but I started to feel alive again. That’s why I do this work. I know what it’s like to build a life around responsibility and success and quietly lose yourself inside it. I also know what it takes to come back: not by burning everything down, but by learning how to listen to yourself again and let that voice lead. At Nurimas, I work with high-achieving people who are ready to feel alive again—to make decisions that actually fit, to reclaim their time and energy, and to live in a way that feels real to them. Here, you get space to be human—capable, thoughtful, tired, hopeful—and to build a life that doesn’t just work, but feels like yours.