• Joe DePasquale sells sports cards online under the brand "Joe Hollywood."
• Last year, his company made more than $5 million in sales.
• He wants to use his wealth to give his kids the resources they need to succeed.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Joe DePasquale, founder of the Joe Hollywood brand. It has been edited for length and clarity.

Growing up, I didn't have much. My dad was involved in drugs, and my mom struggled with a mental illness that sometimes made it difficult for her to even go outside. It was a really difficult atmosphere. I remember coming home one day to strangers at our house; it was the local church dropping off donations for us.

My prized possessions were my sports cards. My grandfather bought me my first pack when I was 8, and I absolutely treasured the cards even as I got older. I went to college in Manhattan and missed many classes because I was buying cards for 5 or 10 cents on the street corner.

Eventually, I dropped out of college to take a job in finance, making $200 a week. That job felt like a bridge between where I was and where I could be. I moved up the corporate ladder, eventually reaching leadership in my finance company. But I never felt fully financially secure, especially seeing firsthand how tumultuous the market can be.

I started selling millions worth of sports cards

All the while, I was still buying trading cards until I had more than half a million of them. I rented a storage unit to keep them all. In 2022, I relocated from New York City to Atlanta for my finance job. I had my dream house and decided to bring my cards home. They filled almost my basement, so my wife, Dori, suggested it was time to sell some.

My oldest son, Joe Jr., was 10 at the time. He was excited by the idea, so we started selling cards online and eventually on WhatNot, a livestreaming marketplace. At first, we were filming in the basement boiler room; the show would end when my phone battery died. As we sold more, we moved to my younger son's train table and eventually to the Ping-Pong table.

Soon, we outgrew that, and I could justify converting a bedroom into a home office for selling cards. Last year, my company did more than $5 million in sales on WhatNot.

I take each of my kids on individual trips

I don't like to talk about my personal wealth or net worth. But it's clear my three children, who are now 13, 10, and 6, are growing up very differently than I did.

We like to travel as a family, including a recent Thanksgiving trip to the Bahamas. Dori and I also do smaller trips with just one of our children at a time. We're preparing to take Joe Jr. to Disney — he's never been, and neither have I. This past fall, we took our daughter to New York City and did everything she wanted, including seeing the Rockettes. Our youngest wanted to eat grilled cheese on the beach, so we took him to Turks and Caicos.

Because of my success, I can spend quality time with each of my kids. That makes up for the fact that my quantity of time is sometimes limited since I stream for 24 hours each Friday through Saturday. I still reserve Sundays for faith and family, though.

I want my kids to have resources

I want my children to have access to every resource they need to succeed. Joe Jr. loves basketball, so I pay for every basketball team or clinic he asks for. Whether it's dance lessons or tutoring, I'm willing to spend on it. I want my kids to work for their success, but I'll be right at their side as they do.

I know the differences resources can make. My mom didn't have money but wanted me to attend a private high school. She asked my grandmother to pay for my schooling; in exchange, my mom didn't get anything in the will when my grandmother died since the tuition was her inheritance. I'm lucky not to have to make difficult choices like that, but I'm motivated to give everything I can to my kids.

More than anything, I want my children to grow up in a positive, encouraging environment. They'll need to work hard and be leaders, but I want them to know life isn't just about making money; it's about being a good person.

• Salim Elhila founded a crypto company with his friend, Tan Gera.
• Last year, the business made $13 million in revenue, and Elhila is now a multimillionaire.
• He and Tan spend most days together and travel together with their families.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Salim Elhila, cofounder of Decentralized Masters. It has been edited for length and clarity.

When I was in my early 20s, I quit my job and rented a van. I had been living in Australia at the time for that job and spent three months traveling the country from south to north. It was the ultimate freedom. I could just park the van and sleep wherever I wanted. I realized I desired a life with the freedom to go anywhere, anytime.

Before living van life, I was on track for a traditional finance career. I grew up in France and later Morocco. I studied math and engineering in France and started working in predictive finance after graduation. For six years, I moved up in corporate positions around the globe until I got that job in Australia.

It came with good pay and a nice lifestyle, but the work was making me miserable. I realized that the corporate world, with its strict frameworks, wasn't for me.

I kept traveling and discovered e-commerce

After traveling around Australia, I went to Bali. There, I spotted a guy working on his laptop on the beach. He explained to me that he had an e-commerce company and was able to make about $1,000 a month working from anywhere. That was amazing to me because, with that amount of money, you could live anywhere in Southeast Asia.

Meanwhile, I was running out of money. I returned to my parents' home in Morocco and asked them to borrow €2,000 (about $2,100) to start an e-commerce company. Within a few weeks, I made $10,000 selling phone cases that looked like Gameboys.

I met my business partner, and our company quickly grew

The money was good, but e-commerce wasn't fulfilling to me. I became very interested in cryptocurrencies and asked my networks if anyone knew a crypto expert. That's how I met Tan.

Tan was also running his own successful business at the time. We were both in our mid-20s and spent time exchanging information about business and crypto. Like typical young men, we also partied together. We could vibe personally and professionally, and by the end of the year, we knew we wanted to launch a business.

Our company, Decentralized Masters, came to life in 2022. We teach investors — most of whom have pretty traditional portfolios — about crypto investing. It took off quickly, and last year, we earned more than $13 million in revenue. I'm now a multimillionaire.

Tan and I are opposites, and that's our power

Tan and I have become incredibly close over the past few years. We spend almost all our time together. I think I see him more than his mom does at this point. Our families have become close, too, and I call his mom my second mother. Last year, we took both of our families on a holiday to Japan.

Life is mystical sometimes, and meeting Tan felt that way. Our business has been so successful because we're opposites. Anything I'm lacking, he has plenty of, and vice versa. Our employees call us Yin and Yang. I'm creative, whereas Tan is the epitome of structure. He has an uncanny ability to make order out of chaos.

Tan and I plan to work together long-term

When you achieve financial success like ours at such a young age, it can be difficult to stay connected to reality. Sometimes, you forget you're living a really special life.

Tan and I live in the same apartment building in Dubai, in units with the same layout, just a few floors apart. We didn't plan for that — it just happened.

We have about 10 people who help us optimize our lives. That includes executive assistants, chefs, personal trainers, and stretching coaches. We try to make sure that every aspect of our day is optimized in all aspects.

We even plan our fun. At the beginning of the year, we list the places we want to go and the experiences we want to have. We travel together frequently, whether it's to the US to meet other people in crypto or to the island of Mykonos for some sun. We make sure to have time in our schedule to date, because we don't want any aspect of our lives to be neglected. This year, we're also planning to attend more spiritual retreats.

Tan and I are business partners, and hope to be for life. We're intentional about living at a pace that we'll be able to sustain for the next 40 to 60 years.

• Somia Farid Silber took over as the CEO of Edible Brands, her family company.
• She's also a mom to a 2-year-old and relies on paid help to balance both.
• Her younger siblings still work at the family's retail locations.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Somia Farid Silber, CEO of Edible Brands. It has been edited for length and clarity.

I am the oldest of six siblings, but sometimes, it feels like I have a seventh sibling: the family business. My dad started Edible Arrangements when I was about 6 years old, and I've been part of it since the beginning.

Even at that young age, I was always picking up little lessons on business from my dad. He would tell me to answer the phone with a smile because the customer could hear that through the phone lines. He always walked in through the store's front door to see what customers saw. He had passion and purpose, and those two attributes shaped who I've become personally and professionally.

Now that I'm the CEO of Edible Brands, I sometimes still call my dad for advice. It's comforting to know I'm not in this alone.

My parents emphasized staying humble as the business grew

At first, the business was very humble. My dad reinvested everything, and we lived on a modest raised ranch, where I shared a bedroom with my sister.

The company really began to grow when my dad adopted a franchise mode. Between 2000 and 2005, it grew from a handful of stores to more than 500. We moved into a bigger home, where I had my own bedroom. My parents were still humble, but they spent money on our education. I switched from public school to a private high school and later college, which my parents paid for.

Still, my parents taught me that I had to work hard. I worked in retail at our stores. Even today, three of my younger siblings, who are still in high school, work at the stores.

I feel a responsibility to my family and our franchisees

I always knew I had other options besides joining the family business. But when I was taking business classes in college, I thought about how to apply what I was learning to Edible Brands. That was a sign that my head and heart were already in the family business.

I briefly worked somewhere else before joining Edible when I was 23. This year, at 31, I was appointed CEO. I'm a stronger leader because I really understand the value of this business, not only on paper but also through the emotional, financial, and time investments my family has made to make it a success.

I come from a long line of entrepreneurs, but this is the first time a business has been handed over to the second generation. I feel that responsibility for my family and the hundreds of small business owners who have Edible Arrangements franchises and their families. It's really special for me to be able to carry this on.

My parents taught me to avoid interest and live below my means

I'm lucky now to be incredibly financially secure. My husband and I can provide for our family without worrying about expenses. We have a few nannies and babysitters who watch our daughter during the workweek and on Saturdays, so we can play golf together.

Still, I remember the financial lessons my parents instilled in me. They taught me never to live above my means and to avoid interest, so I pay my credit card statement in full every month and am very intentional about taking on interest-bearing debt like my mortgage.

I'm outsourcing more at home to take care of myself

As I've stepped into the role of CEO, I've realized I need to focus more on my physical and emotional health and well-being. I have a massage therapist come to my home about once a month. I get my nails done regularly. That might seem superficial, but because these things help me feel good, they make me a better wife, mother, and leader.

I'm also exploring outsourcing more things at home, like cleaning and laundry. As a CEO, my time is very valuable. When I'm at home, I want to spend quality time with my daughter and husband. My parents taught me that it's OK to treat yourself to nice things and experiences as long as you do it in a financially responsible way. That means spending money to prioritize quality time with the people I love.

• Bernard James' wife, Corlette, died from cancer in 2009.
• He had 6-year-old twins and multiple businesses.
• After her death, he moved across the country for a fresh star

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Bernard James, owner of Taste of the Caribbean LA. It has been edited for length and clarity.

I moved to the US from Guyana when I was a teenager and started working for my uncle's plumbing company in New York City. We did a lot of business with another construction company, and one day my uncle asked me if I'd seen the daughter who worked in the office there. "She's so beautiful," he said.

So, I called the company's office, knowing Corlette would answer the phone. Soon, we were on our first date. I was only 19, and Corlette was five years older than me. She knew exactly what she wanted: to have kids, buy property, and find a church home. She was a Leo, and I could see what a powerful woman she was.

Our twins were 6 when Corlette died

Corlette and I got married when I was 22, and a few years later, she was pregnant with twins. I was making about $1,500 a week working for my uncle, but I knew I could make more on my own. I started my own plumbing company and bought a building in Brooklyn during her pregnancy. I had plans to slowly renovate it and open a restaurant. Corlette was still running her family's company, too.

Everything was happening at once: babies and businesses. Luckily, Corlette was a strong, strong woman. She lit up a room when she walked into it, but in business, she commanded respect.

We were busy, and it was a surprise when Corlette was diagnosed with cancer in December 2008. Her health quickly went downhill. She died in 2009 when our twins were only 6.

I moved to California for a fresh start

The next few years were not an easy road. I still had the plumbing company and the restaurant to keep afloat, plus business ends to tie up for Corlette's company. A nanny helped me with the twins, and I also moved my sister in to help.

Still, the stress felt like a monkey on my back. I started thinking about a fresh start. Corlette and I had visited California together, and I had commented on the fact that there was no Caribbean food. I thought it would be a good place to grow my restaurant business.

I moved to California in 2013. Navigating LA traffic to get the kids to school and working late nights at my food truck was difficult.

I hold pageants in Corlette's honor

Eventually, I grew my California business from a food truck to brick-and-mortar locations. Today, we have restaurants in Long Beach and Hollywood. My twins, who are now 22, grew up in the business, bussing tables and serving people. Now, my son works with me and owns 30% of the business. My daughter chose to open a marketing business because she didn't want the demanding schedule of running a restaurant.

It's been 15 years since Corlette died, but I still think about her often. I wonder where my business would be if she were still alive because she was such a powerful businesswoman. The twins and I still raise money for cancer in Corlette's memory, including through our Miss Caribbean pageants. We want to keep their mother's name alive, and it's working.

At the same time, I'm living my life. I have a 3-year-old son who was a pandemic baby. We call him Little Chef. He and his mom live with me and the twins. I haven't remarried, but I have expanded my family.

• David Bronkie and his sister Eva founded Siblings, a sustainable candle company.
• He says their birth order has affected how they approach business.
• Eva, the youngest, is the visionary, while David makes that vision come to life.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with David Bronkie, cofounder of Siblings. It has been edited for length and clarity.

My three siblings and I grew up on a horse farm in upstate New York, where sustainability was a way of life. No one was using that word back in the '90s, though. Still, my parents had a huge garden and a compost pile the size of a Volkswagen bus. We shopped exclusively at the thrift store in town, and for a long time, we didn't even realize clothes were supposed to be new.

Part of the reason for my parents' lack of consumerism was because they didn't have a ton of money to spare, but as my siblings and I became adults, we took their mindset of sustainable consumption with us into the world.

I made a career creating products for the outdoor industries, from skiing to hiking. I frequently traveled to China to see the production process, and I was always uncomfortable with so much waste. It left a pit in my stomach. When my sister approached me with a business idea, I knew it was exactly what I was looking for.

Eva was inspired by her time in Sweden

Eva had married a Swedish man and spent time living in Stockholm — in fact, she now lives there full-time. She saw firsthand how much more consumer-conscious Swedes were than Americans. She also developed a love for the mood in their cozy homes during the long, dark winter.

As the youngest child, Eva always dreams big and is comfortable asking for exactly what she wants.

She approached me about starting a sustainable home goods business. We settled on candles because they're an area where we could make a big impact. We now sell candle kits that do away with glass jars that will likely end up in landfills. Our products are cleaner, greener, and carbon neutral.

I knew that Eva and I worked well together

All my siblings and I get along, but I knew that Eva and I had something even rarer: we could work together. Once, Eva asked me to help her remodel her home. I knew that if we could handle a remodel together, we could overcome the challenges that might arise in business.

As the second child of four, I'm a negotiator. I listen to what my siblings want and see if we can make it happen. Now that we're in business together, Eva is the visionary, and I'm the one responsible for figuring out the logistics of bringing her vision to life.

Sometimes, that's really challenging — Eva has very high standards around our ingredients and production process. Luckily, we're aligned with those, so I don't mind doing extra work to make them a reality.

Our family connection has led to partnerships with other brands

Sometimes, consumers don't realize that a brother-sister duo works in the business. But we've found that our sibling connection has opened the door to partnerships with other family businesses. People seem to think, "If you can work with your sister, we can work together."

Our other two siblings are investors in the company. They're not involved in day-to-day operations, but they are a great asset because they offer us unfiltered feedback in a way only siblings can. Our parents also love to freely share their ideas of what we should — and shouldn't — do.

I would love to say we keep hard boundaries between work and family time, but anyone in business knows it leaks into all areas of your life. We're at a relatively early stage with this company when everything is exciting and fun. If an idea comes up at the dinner table, we don't want to shut that down. Keeping the business top-of-mind is easy, but family is always our priority.

• Vikram Madireddy is a medical student who studied in the UK, Japan, Germany, and Australia.
• He said patients treated him differently in each country.
• He now has an appreciation for all the different ways countries provide healthcare.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Vikram Madireddy. It has been edited for length and clarity.

I started medical school in 2020. When I applied, I knew I would have plenty of late nights and coffee-fueled study sessions, but I never imagined I'd be learning remotely or doing anatomy and physiology labs in full personal protective equipment.

It felt like the pandemic had taken an already troubled medical system in the US and hurled it into an active volcano. That made me wonder how medical systems around the world were coping.

I had traveled to visit family in India, but other than that had never really left New York City until I went to medical school in Tennessee. So, I turned to the internet. I posted on Reddit, asking medical students from around the globe to get in touch.

About 12 people responded, which might not seem so significant, but it changed my life.

I started learning from TV and books about other systems

I started having Zoom conversations with other medical students. It just built my curiosity about medical systems outside the US. I wanted to know what we could learn from them and what they could learn from us.

Soon, I was watching Japanese medical shows and ordering neurology books that were only printed in Australia. Sometimes, I would bring something up in my US classes, and the instructors would ask where I heard it. I told them about my interest in foreign medical systems and how they were helping me learn medicine here in the US.

I started applying for elective courses in other countries. I went to Tokyo for three months. That confirmed for me that I wanted to spend my last year of med school working around the globe.

I saved for two years to fund my travels

During school, I worked in a lab, and I saved a few thousand dollars. I applied to electives around the world and was accepted to programs in the United Kingdom, Japan, and Australia. When I spoke to my med school dean, she warned me this approach was unconventional, but I was confident I could do it.

I planned my travel over 100 days and spent about $3,000 on plane tickets. My first stop was in the United Kingdom. While I was there, I took a side trip to Germany, where I presented research findings. I then traveled to Japan, covering the whole country from top to bottom and learning a lot about the different cultures within Japan. Finally, I went to Australia.

I stayed in a short-term rental in the UK and briefly in a hostel in Australia. In Japan and Australia, I also stayed in the homes of other medical students, which helped me save money and gave me a front-line view of their day-to-day routines.

In Japan, I worked to overcome a language barrier

In each place, I was interacting directly with patients and learning from doctors. The most difficult, obviously, was in Japan, because of the language difference. I had started studying Japanese before I went to Tokyo for the first time, and I understood enough of the language that I could take patient histories.

Patients in Japan were amazed I could speak their language. To me, it was an important sign of respect. Still, I sometimes had to ask my teachers or my medical school friend to fully understand what a patient was saying, especially if they used an idiom. One popular Japanese saying is roughly translated as "fall down 7 times, get up 8." However, patients use it to convey their stubbornness around avoiding the hospital or not taking medication. I didn't want meanings like that to get lost in translation.

I learned to appreciate national medical systems

As I interacted with patients and medical systems, I saw differences in how patients spoke with me. In the US, I often have to gently probe patients about what's bothering them, being very sensitive. In Japan, patients were direct, telling me exactly what was wrong and what treatment they wanted. The UK and Australia were similar to the US but had different medications and treatments available.

I ended my trip, having learned about all the different ways countries care for their people.

I'm preparing to take my final medical licensing exam for the UK's national health system. If I pass, I'll start working there in August for at least two years.

I'm grateful that medical school has allowed me to see the world.

• Kelly Mackin grew up watching her mom work as a senior vice president at an ad agency.
• When Mackin went into marketing, she felt the same burnout she'd seen her mom have.
• Now, she promotes work-life balance and thriving at work.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Kelly Mackin, author of "Work Life, Well-Lived." It has been edited for length and clarity.

When I was a child, I thought my mom was the epitome of success. She was the senior vice president of research at an ad agency in Chicago. Even as a child I could see that her job lit her up. Sometimes she would work evenings or weekends, but it was clear she was happy and thriving.

Then, her company was bought out. Suddenly, she was working most nights and weekends just to keep her job. I was only a pre-teen, but I could feel the energy shift from working extra because she was passionate, to working extra because her company was treating her poorly. Still, I idolized my mom, and I followed her into the industry.

I started to experience physical symptoms of burnout

Working in marketing in Chicago felt like "Mad Men" for modern times. There were screaming matches, whisky before 10 a.m., and regular all-nighters to meet unrealistic deadlines. I just thought that was the norm.

Yet, my mental, emotional, and physical health were suffering. My hands started shaking and my eyes twitched. I developed a sleep disorder and my confidence was shattered. I had only worked in the corporate world for about 7 years, but I knew this lifestyle wasn't sustainable.

One night, I ran to Chicago's Union Station to catch the last train at 10:30 p.m. It was winter, so the sidewalks were icy and slick. I'd been working since 6 a.m. and was utterly exhausted. When I missed the train, it felt soul-crushing. On the cab ride to my home in the suburbs, I knew something needed to change.

I left my job — and Chicago

I felt like I needed to leave everything behind, so I moved from Chicago to San Diego. I was so focused on my own wellness that I became an expert in work-life balance, and soon I was being paid as a consultant by companies and other workers. I'd found harmony, and I wanted to help others do the same.

Unfortunately, there's no one formula for work-life balance. Everyone needs to find what works for them. Some people like a clear separation between work hours and personal hours. I like a more integrated approach, personally.

On a typical day I get up early, starting work by 5 a.m. and working until about 10 a.m. That's when my brain is at its best, so I focus on the most intensive projects. I take a break in the middle of the day for errands, work out, or just relax. Then, I start working again in the evening on lighter items, like responding to emails.

Your priorities will shape what balance looks like for you

When we put expectations on how work-life balance should work, we do ourselves a disservice. You just have to follow what feels right, and what gives you vitality. Vitality has been a word on my mind a lot for the past few years, because I want to have energy for my work and hobbies. Sometimes, that means stepping away from work to go play beach volleyball or do a boxing workout. Other times it means working 12-hour days again, but this time, I'm reaping the benefit of that work.

Finding your balance can take some trial and error, but it starts with writing down your priorities, at work and personally. Then, take a look at how much time you spend on each. You might be surprised that how you spend time doesn't align with what's most important to you. If that's the case, it's time to adjust.

Not everything can happen in every season

Even with good balance, there's no way to fit everything we want into 24 hours. So, it's helpful to think about your life in weeks, months, or seasons.

Sometimes, you're more focused on one area during a particular season. Last year, I wrote and published my book. I barely left my house for 30 days while I was drafting it. I didn't go on vacation or out to eat because I was pouring energy into that project.

This year, I'm more focused on my personal life. I'm travelling to Mexico, to Chicago for my brother's wedding, and to Banff, Canada, one of my all time favorite places. When I have harmony between work and my personal life, I feel good and I know I'm thriving.

• Victoria Wejchert founded a fast food company in Poland in her early 20s.
• Later, she created Kinship, an app for wealth managers, in the US.
• Polish people respected her title, and she encountered more biases in the US, she said.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Victoria Wejchert, partner at Copia Wealth Studios and founder of Kinship. It has been edited for length and clarity.

I grew up in a family that did business around the globe. My parents were Polish, but they fled the country during communism, so I was born in Ireland. When I was about 7, we returned to Poland.

My parents ran a media company in Europe, and I learned about entrepreneurship from them firsthand. They rarely had a day off, and it was typical for them to attend board meetings during our family holidays.

Once, as a teenager, I was trying to figure out what to do with my life during a drive. My dad pulled the car over to look at me. "Your skill is entrepreneurship," he told me. He died only a few years later when I was 20, but it turns out he was right.

Now I'm 35, and I've successfully founded and exited two companies — one in the US and one in Poland. I've learned a lot about the differences between being a female founder in those markets.

In Poland, people respected my title and toughness

When I was in my early 20s, I was visiting a family member in Warsaw and noticed that there was nowhere to eat. At the time, I was working in London, where lunch options were endless. In Warsaw, people were still selling sandwiches from baskets that they brought to office buildings.

I saw an opportunity for more dining options. At the time, Starbucks was just starting to come into Poland, and the idea of a restaurant chain was new. I cofounded Friends — Taste Your Time, a healthy fast food option, and grew it to 12 locations within three years before it was acquired.

Although I was young and female, all I needed to do to earn respect in the restaurant industry was show up and be tough. Culturally, there's a lot of respect for the boss. People always referred to me formally by my title, which translates as "Ms. CEO." They took those seriously once colleagues knew I had expectations and boundaries — like not allowing workers to drink on the job.

In the US, I was more likely to be overlooked as a founder

By comparison, I felt like an outsider at a boys' club when I started a tech company in the US in 2019. Recently, a European asked me if it was harder starting a company in the more patriarchal, conservative Poland. He was surprised when I said no — there are biases against women everywhere, especially in the US.

Once, I was presenting at a conference, standing with a man. Another gentleman came up and started talking to him, assuming he was the founder of Kinship, my wealth management software. That sort of thing happens everywhere.

I overcame that by working extra hard. Before I started fundraising, I read that it typically takes a man 100 meetings to close a round of funding, while female founders need 200-300 meetings. So, I doubled down, knowing I'd have to do 2-3 times as much work. Luckily, people in America were also much more generous about sharing their contacts, which helped me get those extra meetings relatively quickly.

It's easier to grow a company in America

One major difference is the pace of work in the US versus Europe. In Europe, it's typical for people to take all of August off. I didn't take a vacation in the US for five years because I was constantly working on the company.

To be honest, that was fine with me. America's faster pace makes it easier to get work done, and companies can grow more quickly. Plus, I was raised by parents who rarely took time off despite their European roots. They taught me to prioritize the responsibility a founder has to employees, their families, and customers and to celebrate once the hard work pays off.

I did that last year after Kinship was acquired. I took a two-week vacation to Mongolia, my first real time off work in years. Knowing that my hard work had paid off made it extra enjoyable.

• Veronica Cardenas is the daughter of two immigrants from South America.
• She worked as a prosecutor for Immigration and Customs Enforcement but eventually quit.
• Her private practice allows her to bring together her family history and professional expertise.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Veronica Cardenas, the founder of Humanigration. It has been edited for length and clarity.

I grew up feeling pressure to succeed so that everything my parents went through would be worth it.

My dad is an immigrant from Peru. He came to the US with legal status when he was 17, after a seven-year wait for a family visa.

Soon after, he met my mom. She was from Colombia and had crossed the southern border without documentation. She had been detained and was facing deportation. They married quickly, in part to give my mother legal standing in the country. They're still together 41 years later.

My mom faced a lot of hardships in Colombia that she has only started talking about recently. As a child, I only knew that she put her dreams aside to raise her four children, and she felt some resentment about that. Knowing that motivated me to work extra hard with the opportunities I had that my mom never did.

I felt torn between 2 identities

Although I was born a US citizen, I always felt like I was stuck between two worlds. I never felt fully Latina or fully American.

Despite that, I was driven. I became the first in my family to attend college and later law school. Being a lawyer felt prestigious, and as a minority, I found the law very important because it defined my rights and boundaries.

I aced my classes on immigration law, but I wanted to practice anything but that. My whole life story had been tied to immigration. Still, I applied for an internship with the Department of Homeland Security when a friend encouraged me to. After graduating and passing the bar, I became a trial attorney for the government, prosecuting immigration cases.

The job seemed to shift within a few years

At the time, I was working in New York City, litigating many asylum hearings. As the government counsel, I argued against asylum seekers. Most of the cases I prosecuted were granted asylum, so I didn't feel the sting of being responsible for someone's deportation.

I moved into a two-year role with investigations related to major crimes. Trying people responsible for sex trafficking and other serious crimes was rewarding. My team often helped the victims of trafficking get legal status or reunite with their families.

After that, I returned to court in New York City, but the job felt very different. There were lots of people stopped at the border and minors in court by themselves. I'm a professional who worked very hard to become good at my job. I wasn't going to throw the book at a minor who was undefended.

I needed a stable job, but I eventually resigned

I was going through a difficult divorce and providing for my two children. The pay and security of a government job were appealing. But I began to feel more tension with my work. I realized I never talked about it with my family.

Ultimately, I felt like I had to resign. I believe we can enforce immigration laws humanely without people risking their lives or their children. But I no longer saw that happening in the courtroom. I stepped down in 2023.

Today I work in a private practice

I started a private practice defending people facing immigration removal. I realized how fraught immigration was. When I was working for the government, it was easy to believe that I was a wall defending the country from potentially dangerous immigrants. Suddenly I was hearing from client after client about the way the immigration system mistreated them. I still believe we need immigration laws, but they need to be enforced with fairness and justice.

In addition to my private practice, I started Humanigration, an organization that educates immigration lawyers about the rights of noncitizens. I also hold community events to educate noncitizens about their rights.

At the end of the day, everyone in this country is an immigrant. We shouldn't forget this. Today, my parents and immediate family are all citizens. I now have three kids, and I tell them about their family's immigration story with pride.

• Katy Allen has three children and runs a business.
• She has no family nearby, and her husband is a touring musician.
• She relies on home assistants for about nine hours each week.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Katy Allen, founder of Artful Agenda. It has been edited for length and clarity.

For the past eight years, I've relied on recent college graduates to help me make my life happen. They're not babysitters or admin assistants — I think of each helper as a "second me," who will do with any of the tasks I might, whether that's processing Amazon returns, putting away laundry, or taking the car for an oil change.

I'm a mom of three kids, who are now 11, 8, and 5. I'm also a business owner and was diagnosed with ADHD as an adult. My husband is a musician who is often on tour, and our closest family lives five hours away.

Hiring help fills an important gap for me. It allows me not only to get things done but, more importantly, to close some of the mental tabs that I constantly have open in my brain. Because of the help, I've been more successful at work and more present with my kids.

Find yourself also wishing for a body double? Here's how I've made the arrangement work seamlessly.

Find the right help

I live near a university, and that's where I've found most of my helpers. The women who help me are typically students or recent college grads. They might work for a year or two before moving on. When they do, I typically ask them to refer a friend who might be interested in the job.

If I have to advertise, I say right in the ad I'm looking for a second me. I explain that they might be asked to do anything I would do (within reason — I won't have them scrubbing up bathroom messes), and each day will look different.

Automate the process

Having a helper is all about reducing my workload, but a lot of my friends worry that hiring help will actually be more work. To avoid that, I automate as much as possible. My helper works a set schedule, typically two to three days each week for about three hours at a time. She has a key to my house and can let herself in and start working without me giving directions. Some days I don't even see her.

I keep a running list of items (like laundry) that constantly need attention in a Google Doc. If I have time each week, I add more pressing items, like returning items to the store, getting a birthday gift, or organizing a particular area of the house.

The Google doc is great because my helper can leave comments and notes, letting me know what she did and if she had trouble with anything. I can process that when I have time, rather than during my workday or when I'm with the kids. I can also provide simple feedback in the document.

Trust is key

As you can see, my helpers have a lot of access to my life. I even share another Google Doc with log-in information for certain accounts, like Amazon. A relationship like this only works if you can really trust the person who's working for you.

I've never had issues with a helper being untrustworthy. Once, I had a helper who just wasn't a great personality fit. She must have felt the same, because we parted ways fairly quickly, and I advertised the position again.

Start small

I pay my helper a decent rate, somewhere between what I'd pay a babysitter and what I'd pay a professional admin assistant. So, the cost can add up. When I started this eight years ago, I'd be surprised at how much I spend on hired help today. Yet, it makes sense because I am more productive at work.

If you're new to hiring help, start small. Hire someone for ad-hoc projects or for just a few hours a month, and see if the impact on your productivity and brain space is worth the cost. For me, it certainly has been.

• Antoine Sallis was rejected for a car loan because his credit score was 378.
• About a decade later, he was a millionaire.
• He repaired his credit and used debt to build wealth.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Antoine Sallis, author of "The Great American Credit Secret: Part 2." It has been edited for length and clarity.

The best thing that ever happened to my finances felt like the worst thing possible at the time. I was in my late 20s, working as a sales rep at Teen Mobile. I was proud of that job and felt like I was making moves. My next step was to get a decent car, better than the $300 cars from Craigslist that I'd driven in the past.

One day, I walked by a dealership with a sign that said, "Your job is your credit." I took that to mean that as long as I had a job, I could get approved for a loan. I already knew I'd have to go somewhere lenient to get a car loan, but this seemed perfect. I didn't think I had any credit, but I definitely had a job.

To make the purchase even more of a slam dunk, I saved a $500 down payment and picked the cheapest car on the lot, which cost about $9,000. I strolled in to apply, filling out the long paper application. I waited for about 20 minutes. Then, the sales rep came out, barely containing his laugh. He told me my credit score was 378 — so low that I was an exception to their rule, and they couldn't give me a loan despite my job.

I learned about the potential of responsible debt

I walked out of there feeling dejected. I'd been planning to drive off that lot. On my bus ride home, I started thinking about credit, which I knew basically nothing about.

I got tunnel vision, and started to learn everything I could about credit. I started with books and videos. Later, I called people who worked in finance, offering them $60 to answer my questions for 30 minutes.

I cleaned up my own credit, which started with understanding why it was so bad. Once I pulled my credit report, I saw I had unresolved accounts I didn't even know about and student loans with late payments. I started paying my debts on time to build a positive credit history. Soon, people began asking me to help them understand theirs.

As I learned more, I realized credit could be an incredible tool. Once my credit score was better, I took loans to invest in real estate. Most people think debt is bad. But I realized debt can give an opportunity: if you can take out a loan and triple your money over the life of the loan, that's a win.

My mindset made me a millionaire

When I embraced that mindset, things started changing rapidly for me. I started a credit repair company and continued to invest in real estate. By 2020, my company was doing very well, and I was a millionaire. Today I'm 42, and I'm a multimillionaire with a 780 credit score.

In addition to learning about credit and debt, I've seen that your mindset can make a huge difference in your outcomes. Some people in my life are constantly looking for a handout, and they're stuck in a mindset of believing they can't do things. I used to be that way, but I changed.

I became a millionaire in my mind before I ever became one at the bank, because I adopted a strong mindset. I became focused and driven.

I pay for my son's college and give him an allowance

The importance of mindset is what I want my son, who is 18, to take from my story. I can see he's learned that lesson. He used to have C's and D's on his report card, but since he moved in with me, he's a straight-A student. He's about to graduate, and I'm rewarding his hard work by paying for college.

Throughout high school I gave my son a generous allowance, with the expectation that he'd keep his grades up. I pay for everything he needs, but if he wants money to hang out with friends, he knows that's his responsibility. He's seen my financial transformation, and I've talked with him since he was 10 about the importance of credit. Today, I think he knows more about credit than most people, and he even helps with my business teaching others about building their credit.

Now, I have good enough credit to drive luxury cars

That day when I was rejected for a car loan, I laughed along with the salesman. But really, it was no laughing matter. Today, I have multiple luxury cars, which I love. The Lamborghini Gallardo is probably my favorite, though my Bentley is really comfortable.

I want people to know that no matter how dismal your financial situation feels, you can change it. Leveraging credit and debt is a hidden avenue for people who didn't grow up wealthy to build their financial security. You can access more and more, as long as you do it responsibly.

• Lara Johnson is the chief medical officer at Covenant Children's Hospital in Lubbock, Texas.
• Her community is in the midst of a measles outbreak, with about 16 children hospitalized.
• She said parents of vaccinated children shouldn't be overly concerned.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Dr. Lara Johnson, chief medical officer of Covenant Health Lubbock Service Area and Covenant Children's Hospital in Lubbock, Texas. It has been edited for length and clarity.

The children's hospital in Lubbock, Texas, where I work, saw its first measles case about a month ago. Since then, we've had about 16 children hospitalized. Most of them are having trouble breathing and need supplemental oxygen. Very high fevers are also a concern with measles, and about one in five unvaccinated people with measles need to be hospitalized.

I'm not just the hospital's chief medical officer; I'm also a pediatrician and mom of two teenagers. I'm lucky that they're older and vaccinated. Two doses of the measles vaccine prevent 97% of measles cases, so I'm not worried about them.

Still, it's a tough time for the community. Measles is highly contagious, so hospital staff must treat patients in special isolation rooms and wear N-95 masks.

I think we're still at the beginning of the outbreak, and we're going to see a lot more illness among unvaccinated kids over the next few months. With that in mind, here's what the community should know.

Measles is serious, yet parents shouldn't be overly concerned

Measles is somewhat comparable to the flu, but it's more serious. There are short-term and long-term complications, including pneumonia, neurological complications, and encephalitis (swelling of the brain). According to the CDC, about three in 1,000 kids who contract measles die.

Despite that, parents of vaccinated children shouldn't be unduly concerned. The first dose of the measles vaccine is typically given at 12 to 15 months, and after that, children are 93% immune to the virus. After a second dose (given between 4 and 6 years), they're 97% protected. Even if there's measles at your school or day care, your vaccinated child is very unlikely to get it.

Because of that, parents don't need to worry about every sniffle. It's much more likely that vaccinated kids have a cold or the flu, which are also circulating in our community.

We're working closely with our local health department during this outbreak, and they're contacting people who may have been exposed to the virus. Call your pediatrician if you see the telltale rash associated with measles, which starts on the face.

Vaccines are critical — even after exposure

If you're exposed, it's not too late to get a vaccine. If a dose of the vaccine is administered within three days, you can still drastically reduce your chance of getting measles. This is called post-exposure prophylaxis (PEP). We're offering vaccination to as many unvaccinated people as possible, including the family members of hospitalized children.

We're also reaching out to people who are open to vaccines but may be a bit behind schedule to get them vaccinated as soon as possible.

We're emphasizing science and data, plus relationships

Vaccines can be polarizing, and there's no magic way to address communities that have strong anti-vaccine sentiments. As pediatricians, our job is to speak the truth about vaccines: they are safe and effective. We hope that families are willing to hear that.

What really helps is having an ongoing, open relationship between pediatricians and patients. That way, we can continue to have these conversations.

Infants are most at risk

It would be really stressful to have an infant in our community right now. I would keep infants out of the grocery store and crowded places as much as possible — though that's good practice during cold and flu season anyway.

Although the vaccine is usually given at 12 months, infants can get it as young as 6 months if they're exposed. If you're worried about your baby, call your pediatrician.

I'm focused on compassion

As a doctor, I treat patients and their caregivers with empathy and compassion. This situation isn't any different, even if measles is largely preventable. Not every family will make the decisions I might wish they would. I don't have power over that, but I have power over my ability to share the facts and deliver the best care possible.

• Kiki Ayers is the CEO of Ayers Publicity, which she founded while homeless.
• This year, the company is projected to make about $3.7 million.
• Ayers grew the company exponentially while she was pregnant with her son.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Kiki Ayers, the CEO of Ayers Publicity. It has been edited for length and clarity.

In 2016, I walked through the lobby of a Los Angeles hotel, trying to look like I belonged there. Two years before, my job had put me up in the hotel, and I remembered that it had fancy bathrooms with stalls that extended all the way to the floor and ceiling. Now, I hoped one of those stalls would give me a safe place to stay for the night.

A few years before, I had moved from New York and Los Angeles for a job working for a musician. I left that job after two and a half years, expecting to find something new quickly. But I wasn't getting any callbacks. I patched together gigs as an entertainment reporter but had no consistent work. Before long I couldn't pay my rent, so I crashed at friend's houses or stayed in hostels when I had money.

That night at the hotel, I truly had nowhere to go. I shut the stall door, hoping no one would notice me. I took a few minutes to cry and wonder how I ended up in this situation. Then, I started focusing on how I could get out of it.

It wasn't the first time I'd be homeless

Because I was doing some freelancing entertainment reporting, I had lots of public relationship pitches in my inbox. I thought I could teach myself how to pitch to clients. I started emailing industry contacts and picked up a few clients. I charged them $500 a month. Since I still had no address, I had the payments sent to a friend's house.

After about four months of that, I had saved enough money to afford a one-bedroom apartment, which I shared with my brother. We didn't care that it was tiny. We were just so happy to have a roof over our heads. That wasn't always the case in our family: when I was in high school, my mom, brother, and I lived in a car because we were homeless.

My company really took off during an unplanned pregnancy

I had never considered being an entrepreneur. I thought it was amazing that I made decent money through my company.

In 2018, two years after I started the company, I unexpectedly became pregnant. When I was about four months along, I left my boyfriend. Knowing I would be a single mom kicked me into panic mode. I upped my rates, charging about $1,500 a month per client.

Then, I emailed competitors, posing as potential clients, to find out their rates. When I learned they charged $5,000, I increased my monthly rates to $3,500 per client. And I had a bunch of clients.

During my pregnancy, my business really glowed up. The last four months of my pregnancy I brought in $160,000.

I pivoted from celebs to business and tech clients

My son was born in December, which is a quiet time of year in LA, so I naturally had some time off with him. But soon, I was back to work, planning a major celebrity birthday party in February.

Working with celebrities was so time-consuming. I started realizing that people in business and tech were willing to pay more, and they needed less, which meant I could take on more clients. Soon, I signed $200,000 annual contracts with clients while growing my client roster. I was so busy that I started hiring people and contracting with freelancers.

I know my worth and don't back down

In 2024, my business made about $3 million. I am still surprised by the financial security I have. I'm very frugal and a bit afraid of losing it all. I put money in the bank or invest it, then don't touch it.

I've been so successful because I know my worth and am not willing to compromise on it. I'm willing to let clients walk away if they think my prices are too high because I know they're fair. And the ones who walk away almost always come back.

I've also had to accept that I don't know everything about business or wealth. I hire people who can do tasks I don't enjoy or am not good at. You have to be real with yourself about where your strengths are.

Now that I have more money than I could have ever imagined, I want to give back. I started a nonprofit called MyBestKidLife, which focused on education, relief of natural disasters, and supporting low-income families. I'm lucky to have gotten myself out of a terrible situation, and I want to help others do the same.

• Regina Lawless was DEI lead at Instagram from 2020 to 2023.
• She left the job after losing her husband unexpectedly.
• She says despite the current environment, DEI is here to stay.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Regina Lawless, author of "Do You." It has been edited for length and clarity.

I was in corporate America for 20 years, and for about the past decade, my work was focused on diversity, equity, and inclusion. I worked for many global firms, but my most prestigious role was as the DEI lead for Instagram, from 2020 until 2023.

Since I was the first DEI leader at the company, my first goal was to establish some goals. I really delved into Instagram's demographic makeup so we could understand how that compares to the demographic makeup of the general population. We collected data on any demographic you can imagine, including gender, race, ethnic background, and age. That way, we knew which groups were overrepresented or underrepresented.

With that data, I could see that women were underrepresented, especially in leadership at Instagram. Women make up about half the country's population, so you'd expect them to make up half of leadership, but only about 30% of leadership at the company was female. We made some progress on that during the tenure, using mentorship programs and other tools.

This is the most common misconception about DEI

People get quite a bit wrong about DEI. But the most fundamental misunderstanding is the idea that DEI programs put people who aren't qualified into positions. That's a huge mischaracterization.

DEI work means ensuring that everyone who is qualified has a fair shot at a role. We know that's often not the case. Opening the door to more people often means reexamining the hiring process. If you hire internally, but your team is mostly men, you're more likely to hire a man. If you ask for referrals, you only find people with connections. If you screen for candidates with Ivy League educations, you leave other perfectly qualified people out.

Another misconception is that DEI takes jobs away from qualified people. That couldn't be further from the truth. Instead, it's about opening up job opportunities to more people who have worked just as hard — maybe harder — but don't yet have a foot in the door.

I think businesses will want to keep DEI

Despite the current environment, I think DEI is here to stay. Fundamentally, teams are more creative and innovative when they're composed of people from varied backgrounds and experiences. That's better for business.

As Gen Z and eventually Gen Alpha enter the workforce, I think inclusion will be the natural way we do business. We might not call it DEI or assign one person the impossible job of ensuring equity, but there will be a culture of honoring people's differences and the strengths they bring.

My husband's death caused me to rethink my career

In 2021, I lost my husband unexpectedly to a heart attack. I was 40, and he was only 45. His death caused me to fundamentally rethink my outlook on life. My corporate work didn't feel as fulfilling. It didn't give me the freedom and flexibility I needed, especially now that I was a single mom to our son, who was 15.

Leaving Instagram was scary. I was making multiple six-figures and regularly received stock options that vested quarterly. I had recently bought a home and still had a mortgage. I had a good income but didn't have the type of wealth that meant I could retire.

I worked with my financial planner to bolster savings and diversify my investments. She advised me to keep working a while longer, but ultimately, I left sooner than she thought I should. I had to follow my heart.

I've redefined what success means to me

Now, I'm an author, content creator, and coach. In my first year of self-employment, I made about a quarter of what I was making in my corporate role. I had to adjust to getting paid monthly or less often rather than every two weeks. My cash flow was very different from what I was used to.

Since then, I've grown my business. I haven't yet matched what I made in my corporate role, but I'm confident I will soon. The creative freedom and creativity in my work today feel priceless — well worth the sacrifice of a title and salary.

Throughout the past five years, I've realized that success means knowing who you are and living in alignment with that. I've done that through five steps. I reconnected with my heart, finding my desire for more creativity; I restored my body through yoga; reframed my beliefs and ditched self-limiting stories; renewed my spirit by finding joy again; and reinvented routines, making sure all this personal growth sticks.

• Jason Rivers founded Oasis Energy Drink with his best friend, Wesley Fowler.
• The two met playing pee-wee football three decades ago.
• Rivers says their complementary strengths make the business successful.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Jason Rivers, cofounder of Oasis Energy Drink. It has been edited for length and clarity.

Wesley Fowler and I have been friends since fourth grade. That's when we met, playing football outside Atlanta, where we grew up. We played all together all through middle school and high school. Our families were intertwined, and we were best friends. I was even a groomsman at Wes's wedding.

We have always had an interest in becoming entrepreneurs together. I've been a serial entrepreneur, with some ventures more successful than others. Wes has worked mostly in the corporate world, though he's dabbled in entrepreneurship too.

A while back, we ran a promotional company in Atlanta together. It worked well, but Wes moved away about three months in. Since then, we have been always talking about possible collaborations. Two years ago, we found one we thought would really work: Oasis, a natural energy drink.

Our complimentary skills are our superpower

Working with Wes isn't my first time starting a business with a friend. I had a company with a friend in the past, but it didn't go well. I managed to save the friendship — I just recently attended an NFL game with him — but the company just wasn't meant to be.

What makes things work well with Wes is that his strengths are my weaknesses, and vice versa. I came up with the idea for Oasis, but Wes is the market genius who brought my idea to life. I'm good with numbers and operations, while he has a creativity I envy. When we bring those strengths together, it feels like we have a super power.

One thing we have in common is that we like to do things with a sense of urgency. We never let problems pile up, and we're constantly working on the company together, even when that means late-night phone calls after our families are asleep.

We keep our friendship at the forefront

Friendship is still the foundation of our relationship. We've been friends for 31 years now and business partners for two years. We relate to each other man to man first. Sometimes, that means understanding family obligations. My kids are older, but Wes has two small kids and is in a more intensive parenting stage. I make sure he has space for that.

Since we have such a long history, we're not caught up in ego. We respect and trust each other, but we're not trying to prove anything. Sometimes, I'll get on a call thinking I know exactly what direction we should take. Wes will have a different idea. I'm humble enough that I can hear him out and change my mind if what he says makes sense.

We also give each other a lot of autonomy. Wes makes marketing decisions without needing my OK, and I do the same on the operations side. That frees us up to spend our time together talking about bigger decisions.

We're used to solving problems together

Being an entrepreneur means constantly solving problems. We've had plenty over the past two years, but we've been able to work through them all because of our friendship. Wes and I both have high emotional intelligence and never lose our tempers. We can tell each other when we need more time to think over a decision, and we trust that we're in this together. After 31 years, we wouldn't know anything else.

• Darrell Spencer founded Crowned Skin, a skincare brand for men.
• He invested profits into real estate, but still rents the condo that he lives in.
• He says his high school friends don't expect him to pay for things.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Darrell Spencer, founder of Crowned Skin. It has been edited for length and clarity.

Growing up, my mom worked for the post office, and my dad was an officer with the Chicago Police Department. They rose through the ranks at those solid, middle-class jobs until my mom was a Postmaster and my dad was a Commander. Their income covered necessities for me and my sister, but my parents had another income source that pushed us into the upper middle class: real estate investing.

One of my first memories is living in a three-family home in Chicago. My dad owned the building, so we were living essentially for free since the other tenants' rent' paid the mortgage — it was house hacking before that term existed.

My dad sold that building for a substantial profit, which he used to buy us a one-family home while also reinvesting in rental properties. I started learning at an early age that real estate was a great way to build wealth while also maintaining cash flow through asset appreciation.

My company made $4 million during its first year

We were comfortable financially, but I knew we weren't rich. I also saw how hard my parents worked. In addition to the police department and real estate, my dad had a third part-time job. I knew I wanted to go to college, but I didn't want my parents to have the financial burden of paying for it. I applied for a full-ride scholarship, and being able to tell them I got it felt like a gift to them and me.

After college, I worked for the biggest-name tech companies, focusing on digital marketing strategy. That sparked my interest in entrepreneurship. I first started my business, Kings Crowning, about five years ago, which sells satin-lined hair wraps for men of color. About two years ago, I launched Crowned Skin, which makes men's body butter with scents and pheromones. I still own both companies, but Crowned Skin has taken off in a huge way, making $4 million in revenue during the first year.

I own 18 rentals, but I rent the condo where I live

As soon as I started making money, I started investing in real estate. I now own about 18 rental units in greater Chicago. Last year, I officially became a millionaire at 27. I see real estate investing as a way to continue to grow my wealth and create more financial stability independent of my companies.

Despite that, I still rent the condo I live in. It's modest: about 1,200 square feet and three bedrooms. As a real estate investor, I'm very conscious about any debt I take on since banks consider my debt-to-income ratio when making loans. I haven't taken on a personal mortgage because I can make more money taking on loans for rental properties. When I take the leap into a personal mortgage, it will be for my first home.

I'm conscious of spending, but I have some indulgences, like the Porsche Panamera I drive. Driving it makes me feel good. I love cars, and my parents always drove nice vehicles like Land Rovers and BMWs.

My old friends can't relate to my wealth, but we still hang

I still hang out with a lot of my high school friends. The foundation of our friendship is all the experiences we shared growing up and stories that we can still laugh about today. Sure, I have some new experiences because of my wealth they can't relate to, but we share enough that the friendships are still deep.

If I'm out with friends I'll often pick up the tab for dinner or drinks. I want to do it, and I appreciate that my friends never expect me to pay. I've worked really hard to get where I am. I continue to live modestly and spend strategically to build my wealth. I would be uncomfortable if people expected me to pay just because of my financial status. Luckily, money hasn't created a wedge in any of my relationships, and I think that's a testament to the quality of friends that I have.

I work as if I'm not a millionaire

These days, I'm very comfortable financially, but I'm careful not to be complacent. I know that when you feel too comfortable, that's when things can get shaky. Money can go as quickly as it came.

So, I still work like I'm young and hungry, not like I'm a millionaire. I have big dreams for my businesses and for myself. That's just called ambition.

• Colleen Slagen is a mom of three and a name consultant.
• She said social media has increased the emphasis on sibling sets.
• Themes and styles can guide name selection, but going too similar can be cheesy, she says.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Colleen Slagen, author of "Naming Bebe: An interactive guide to choosing a baby name you love." It has been edited for length and clarity.

The idea of giving siblings matching names isn't anything new, but social media has helped the idea spread far and wide. As a name consultant who's active on Instagram and TikTok, I hear from lots of parents who are concerned about creating a perfect sibling set of names. Parents believe names can create family cohesion and unity.

Creating a sibling set can be fun but can also create stress for parents. Here's what to think of when you're creating a sibling set, and how to know when to change course — which is something I had to do while naming my own three children.

Remember that sibling sets aren't the end-all

I worked with a mother who intensely regretted one of her children's names. It wasn't that she didn't like the name — she just didn't think it matched with the names of her other children. She was even considering changing her child's name.

I reminded her that a sibling set of names isn't the end-all-be-all. Our children are going to spend most of their lives existing independent of their sibling set. I never want parents to get too caught up in how cohesive their children's names are.

Decide what unites your sibling set

The easiest way to create a sibling set of names is to think about a style category of names that you like. If you're into classic names like John, they'll always go well with other classics, like Dorothy.

Or, you can focus on name meanings. Nature-inspired names like Sky and Juniper can make good sibling sets, for example.

Another option is to think about length. I find that four-letter names often go well together. At the same time, it's OK to put together short and long names if they have a similar style. I love the sibling set Ada and Bernadette, for example.

Subtlety goes a long way

When I worked with baby company JoJo Maman Bébé on the do's and don'ts of sibling sets, I reminded parents that subtlety goes a long way. If your theme is too niche, it can come across as cheesy.

I would never name sisters Goldie, Violet, and Scarlett, or brothers Bear and Fox — that's a little too on the nose for me. The same can happen with names that sound too similar, like Banks and Brooks, or Adeline and Caroline. If there are multiple letters shared between the names, they may be too close.

Don't be afraid to change course

I named my oldest child Rory, envisioning a sibling set of traditional Irish names. But as I got to know more kids and families in my hometown outside Boston, I realized that the Irish names I liked were too common for my taste. So, I pivoted to more traditional English names and now have Rory, Janie, and George.

I see that parents are very concerned about equality in naming and worry about a child feeling left out. That thinking can box parents into a specific naming pattern. If you start with two J names, you might find yourself following in the Duggar's footsteps and giving all your children J monikers. But remember, you're not obligated to continue any patterns, and personally I don't think your children will mind.

Don't fight true love

Thinking about a sibling set can help guide you as you pick a name for your second, third, or sixth child. Yet occasionally, you'll discover a name that's just right for your new addition — even if it doesn't match their siblings.

I see this a lot with celebrities. Actor Ashley Tinsdale, for example, has two daughters named Jupiter (which feels hyper-modern, majestic, and rare) and Emerson (which is much more mainstream). Sometimes, you can't fight the name that feels right.

• John Gregory built wealth through social entrepreneurship.
• He taught his kids money buys access and tries to pass on what he's gained to his communities, too.
• Past health struggles have helped him learn to push through the limitations he put on himself.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with John Gregory, founder of the National Center for Urban Solutions, Enterprises, and the African American Male Wellness Agency. It has been edited for length and clarity.

I was raised in an upper-middle-class home with a lot of resources, especially for a Black family in the 1960s. My aunt and uncle, who raised me, both had advanced degrees, and everyone in our family got a college education. My uncle was a professor of Black history, and my aunt worked at a local library.

Our neighbors on both sides were doctors, a pediatrician on one side and a gynecologist on the other. Most of the neighborhood was white. I was exposed to the access and power that my white friends had, including to fancy education and international travel. I noticed it seemed effortless to them — as if they knew they deserved this. I wanted that for myself, and eventually, my kids.

My aunt and uncle didn't give me much of an education when it came to money, but they did emphasize that I could be whatever I wanted to be. They really built up my self-esteem. I truly thought I would be the first Black president. They raised me to never say, "I can't."

That self-belief and determination carried into my entrepreneurial and philanthropic ventures throughout my life. My net worth is a private matter, but as the old joke goes — it's more than $5. My wife and I have raised millions for our communities. I've had the resources to make a big impact, for others and my family.

I know money buys access

When I was in my early 20s, a mentor told me that if you're going to be a decision-maker, you've got to be in the room where decisions are made. And once you're in that room, you need the financial and intellectual resources to influence people.

Today I'm 69, and my five kids range in age from 25 to 46. I also have two bonus kids — close family friends who call me dad. They'd kill me if I didn't mention them.

Biological or not, I've taught all my kids that money buys you access. It gets you in that room, where you can experience decision-making and power. That's worth more than flashy clothes or fancy vacations.

I feel a responsibility to help others gain access, too

I've been blessed to have access, and as I've grown my wealth, I've been in more rooms with important people. I feel a responsibility to use that access to help others, and teach them the tools they need to change their lives.

As the founder of the National Center for Urban Solutions, I focus heavily on education, providing charter schools and in-demand job training. I believe education and access to technology helps people leverage economic opportunities. Of course, they have to be healthy to take advantage of opportunities, too, so I offer health screenings through the African American Male Wellness Agency.

I've tried to build institutions that have solid infrastructure to help people develop the tools they need to get out of poverty. That happens through education, access to technology and training, and healthcare.

Health struggles have reminded me time is short

That last one is particularly important to me. I've had cancer twice, and nine years ago I went blind. My health struggles have taught me that life is short. Whatever you're putting off for tomorrow, don't, because time is not really your friend.

It's also helped me see that we too often put limitations on ourselves. When I lost my sight I thought I might have to stop working. I was looking at what other people thought I could do — not what I knew I could do. Once I started responding to myself rather than people's expectations of me, I was able to keep living. In fact, I haven't missed a day of work.

I want people in my community to know they were created to be great

I work with my wife, two of my children, and many of my nieces and nephews. From 8 to 5, it's all about business. I'm Mr. Gregory, the one who's holding them accountable and making sure our outcomes are good. After 5, I'm Dad again. I try not to take business home.

I keep that respect at work, because I want my family and the people at my companies to know they were created to be great. That respect starts inside. If you don't respect yourself no one else will.

I've been blessed with lots of access. And I'm blessed to be able to show others those tools to move themselves forward in life. Sometimes that means teaching them how to code switch, or learn the language of the game they're trying to play. More than anything it's about finding opportunities, not excuses.

• Shawn Johnson East won gymnastics gold at the 2008 Olympics.
• Now she's a mom of three, with the former NFL player Andrew East.
• She constantly worries about fostering her kids' interests without pressuring them.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Shawn Johnson East, a co-creator of Beam Kids. It has been edited for length and clarity.

When I was 16, I stood on a gold-medal podium at the Olympics. As a gymnast, I had been raised to think that was the pinnacle of success. But as I stood there, I thought: "This is really cool, but is this it? Is this the greatest I'll ever feel in my life?"

Now I'm 33, and while that moment was amazing, I know it didn't define my success. Since then I've found so much joy in little moments, like meeting my husband, learning how to make sourdough, skiing for the first time, and getting accepted to college. Then I had my babies, who are now 5, 3, and 1, and I experienced a whole new level of awe.

That's what I want my kids to learn about success: It happens in the small moments. Success isn't an Olympic gold medal, an NFL contract, or a big paycheck — it's finding what makes you fulfilled in life.

I feel a responsibility to help my kids find fulfillment

Of course, finding your passion can be easier said than done. My husband, Andrew East, is an NFL long snapper who signed with teams including the Washington Commanders and the Kansas City Chiefs. Andrew and I were both lucky to find our passion in sports, and we know how good that feels.

Now, we talk constantly about how to help our kids find their passion without putting pressure on them. This question haunts me, and Andrew and I talk about it multiple times each week. Neither of us cares if the kids follow us into football or gymnastics, but we feel a lot of responsibility to help them find something they're obsessed with.

As a parent, that's daunting. It's hard to know when it's time to teach the kids perseverance with a new activity versus just accepting it's not their thing. At the same time, helping them discover their passions is so much fun for me. My daughter and sons each have different interests already.

Perfectionism used to keep me from trying new things

Meeting Andrew cracked me open in the most beautiful way. Before meeting him, I was a horrible perfectionist. I was too paralyzed to try anything new because I felt if I wasn't great at it right away it wasn't worth trying.

Andrew's the opposite. He couldn't care less what the world thinks, and he wants to try everything. Because of him, I'm pushing myself outside my comfort zone. I tried golf and am getting my pilot's license.

As a kid, my big dream wasn't to be an Olympic gymnast; it was to be an orthopedic surgeon. That's never going to happen — there's no way I'm going to medical school — but I'm seriously considering getting my nursing degree. I love medicine and the science behind it.

Supplements are key in our family

Andrew and I are big into biohacking. We take supplements every day. And, like many parents, we have kids who would rather eat Cheetos than chicken, so we wanted them to be able to benefit from supplements too. We were frustrated that there weren't many quality supplement options for kids.

We worked with a friend who owns a supplement company and our pediatrician to develop supplements for our three kids. Then we realized other parents might want the same — that's how Beam Kids came to be.

Each night, we have bath time and then read books before bed. The two older kids still like having warm milk while we read, but they were happy to switch to "hot cocoa" made with chocolate-flavored Beam Kids Superpowder. It's sweet, so it feels indulgent to them, but I love that it has greens, vitamins, and probiotics.

Motherhood helps me find fulfillment

Given the history of abuse at USA Gymnastics, I think about safety for all my children. There's been this beautiful movement in my generation to push for openness and communication. We came from generations where many things weren't talked about openly, but now we can name abuse or inappropriate behavior.

I'm already starting — in an age-appropriate way — to talk about safety. Open communication and education will go a long way in keeping my kids and others safe.

I was an only child, so living with a family of five has been new to me. Seeing sibling relationships up close is fascinating. For me, motherhood has been another way to find success and fulfillment every day and step out of my comfort zone.

• Dr. Julia Iafrate, DO, practices sports medicine, and physical medicine and rehabilitation.
• She's a former competitive skier who tore her ACL.
• She says hormones increase the risk of an ACL injury but aren't the only factor.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Julia Iafrate, DO, a physician with the Center for Women's Sports Medicine at NYU Langone. It has been edited for length and clarity.

I first started skiing when I was about 6. I grew up in Canada, where skiing was a way of life. I used to race until I tore my ACL, a major ligament in the knee joint, at 18. Once that was surgically repaired, I had two more back-to-back knee injuries that required surgery. That ended my competitive ski career but kicked off my interest in medicine.

Now, I'm a double-board-certified doctor in sports medicine and physical medicine and rehabilitation. I'm one of the doctors who treat the US Ski Team. In my work, I'm seeing more discussion about the impact of hormones on sports injuries for women. Here's what we know about the role of hormones in injury and how to prevent getting hurt on the slopes.

Women are more prone to ACL injury

Women are twice as likely to tear their ACLs than men are — in fact, some research puts the risk much higher, at eight times the risk men have. There are a few reasons for this. Women tend to have wider hips than men, which impacts the knee angle. Anatomically, this can increase the risk of ACL injury.

In addition, broadly speaking, women have less neuromuscular control than men. Boys are often encouraged into sports like weightlifting and biologically have more muscle mass. Women tend toward sports like figure skating or dancing, where strength isn't the priority. Since muscle strength provides stability, many women have less stability in their ACLs compared to men.

Hormones play a role too

Hormones are also at play. We need more research on this, but a few studies suggest that women are more likely to injure their ACLs when they're ovulating.

This is the time of the menstrual cycle when estrogen is highest. Estrogen can make ligaments less stiff, increasing the risk for injury. This is the same reason women might experience ligament injuries during pregnancy. Since body temperature also increases during ovulation, the body may be more prone to inflammation and injury.

To be clear, we would never blame an ACL injury purely on hormones. But, increased estrogen combined with fatigue, lack of muscle control, and biomechanical strains on the ligament can have an impact.

However, women aren't the only ones with a correlation between hormone changes and injury. For males, increased testosterone can increase competitiveness or risk-taking behavior, creating more risk for injury.

Dynamic exercises can help

Flexibility is often celebrated, but without stability, it's not great. Women — and everyone else — need flexibility and stability to protect their ligaments. Building strength is a great way to increase stability.

Focus on exercises that mimic the real world and use multiple muscle groups simultaneously. Squats and leg presses are great examples. These exercises train multiple muscle groups to work together and respond to different stimuli. That will help on the slopes when you need to suddenly navigate around other skiers, stay steady on a patch of ice, or land a jump.

Quit while you're ahead

When you notice you're tired during an exercise, your muscles are already fatigued. That reduces your performance, and it's one of the reasons so many injuries happen on the last run of the day.

Remember, no bear is chasing you. You can always ski another day, so don't push it once you begin to feel tired. Head to the lodge and enjoy après instead.

Be mindful of whole-body changes

Whether you're on the national ski team or hitting the slopes as a casual hobby, it's important to be aware of changes to the whole body during your menstrual cycle, pregnancy, and menopause.

I had my first baby 15 months ago, and I still can't run with the same biomechanics I had before. I've had to understand that and give myself grace in getting back into exercise. By listening to your body and acknowledging the changes that hormones can bring, you can prevent an injury, which is much easier than trying to repair one after it happens.