A Girl from Boise

My visit to the office across the hall

I went into a trance the day Katie walked into my high school Global Perspectives class—sitting still, in the back, and wondering how everybody else was playing it so cool. I was a new kid that year, so when I finally snapped out of it for a moment and looked over at the only other student I knew in the class with a sort of “what in the damn hell, have I blinked yet” kind of a look, he just snorted and said, “oh, you haven’t met Katie?”

I’m going to write it all down someday. As far as love stories go, this one’s about as good as it gets. But for now, I’ll just give you a glimpse of what I saw that day—of this kind, smartass-girl from Boise who has been relentless fire since long before I walked up to her desk at the end of Global Perspectives class and somehow managed to say, “Hi, I’m Brian.”

See: Katie and Brian on their second date

When Katie would tell friends and family that she wanted to be a doctor, nobody baulked. She had consistently harnessed a massive amount of natural talent into academic and athletic excellence while remaining fiercely empathetic and generous. Her high school accolades came as no surprise either. Valedictorian. Homecoming Queen. Captain of her state championship volleyball team. And on.

She wore it well. Somehow graciously acknowledging the spotlight while trying hard to shine it on the people around her. She was—and still is—the most genuine person I’ve ever met, capable of using a calm voice while masterfully cussing like a trucker.

We went to college together and got married our sophomore year. Life was grand in our 500-square-foot apartment, where we studied hard, binged DVD box sets of 24, and dipped our fries in Wendy’s Frostys.

The two of us still can’t remember when it was that Katie stopped talking about becoming a doctor. With a 3.97 GPA in college, there was no need to abandon the idea—no dramatic moment or abrupt decision. Just a slow, almost imperceptible shift. Growing up in Boise, Katie rarely saw women doctors in her community and never met a woman from her own religious background who had become a doctor.

When you never see someone like you do the thing you dream of doing, it doesn’t take much—just time—for the dream to start fading. Inertia doesn’t announce itself. It just settles in. Quietly rearranging your sense of what's possible until your life begins to match the world you’ve always seen around you.

But Katie is relentless, and instead of letting her fire burn out, she just redirected it.

After a move to Texas and two heartbreaking miscarriages, she had her first daughter and welcomed motherhood with the same genuine energy that’s always radiated around her. She wrapped that girl—and the two sisters that followed—into a world of daily adventure, laughter, and love. No expectations or norms could ever take credit.

But what were we supposed to do when these three girls—who are all so different—started looking and sounding like Katie. Like when they drop that first perfectly timed f-bomb, and you have to look away so they don’t see you laughing. How could we see that same fire burning in their eyes as they talked about veterinarian school or starting their own company and not name what was going to happen.

How were we supposed to acknowledge the pain and loss that Katie felt—when she had also sincerely loved raising her daughters full time?

Katie couldn’t change the path she took, nor would she want to. But she’s always been so damn genuine that she had to find a way to reconcile the girl she was with the adult she’d become. After nearly a year of reflection and preparation, she applied to a master’s program in Clinical Mental Health Counseling at Johns Hopkins.

She was accepted. She graduated with a 4.0. She started her own practice.

How do you describe the feeling when your daughters scream inappropriately loud as you see this girl—whom you’ve been in love with since high school Global Perspectives class—walk across the stage to grab her diploma? How do you explain the meaning behind it all?

See: Katie’s Graduation from Hopkins

Katie finished school in Baltimore and then immediately moved to Austria—a story for another time. The practice she started—Bergeseen Group—is a callout to the network of Mountains and Lakes Trails that surround the area where we live.

Today, she works with women who are asking themselves hard questions about life, work, family, and the connection among them all:

• Expats and immigrants who are experiencing the highs of living in exciting and foreign worlds while missing family back home and nearly unraveling in visa application lines.

• Women who are burned out—at the office, at home, or in between—and trying to navigate a transition that aligns more genuinely with what matters most to them.

• People who are in deep pain. Sometimes because of loss. Sometimes because of success. Sometimes for reasons they can’t quite articulate.

Her clients quickly realize that this isn’t just a job for Katie. She prepares carefully, reads voraciously, and is constantly enrolling in advanced trainings to deepen her practice. This is her field, and Katie doesn’t do things half-ass.

How do you describe it all? How can you explain the ache and the beauty.

I think back to the day that my family walked through the Sigmund Freud Museum in Vienna a few months after Katie’s graduation. As she quietly wandered from one exhibit to another at one of the most storied addresses in the history of psychotherapy, there was no more dreaming or wondering what if.

She belonged in this room. She was part of this story.

I also saw my oldest daughter—who was the same age Katie was the day I met her—walking around the museum. She’s like her mom, but there are differences.

Hazel eyes and a bit taller.

Less interest in health care, more interest in economics.

An expat accent that sounds like a garbled mix of Texas warmth and British polish.

She’s like her mom, but there are differences.

Because when you see someone like you do the kind of things you dream of doing, it doesn’t take much—just time—for the dreams to become reality. Inertia doesn’t announce itself. It just settles in. Quietly rearranging your sense of what's possible until your life begins to match the world you’ve always seen around you.

Creating. Meaning. Everywhere

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Thanks for reading about Katie and Bergeseen Group.

This summer I’ll be traveling to Switzerland, Pakistan, the U.S., Ethiopia, and a few other places to meet with people who are creating meaningful change in their communities.

About 3–4 times a month, I’ll share reflections on what I’m learning—stories from the road, insights from my work with entrepreneurs and leaders, and thoughts on how we create meaning through what we build.

If that resonates, I’d love for you to follow along.