A Dubai Story I Wish to Erase — and What It Taught Me About Rising Again

Not long ago, I flew to Dubai for a high-stakes client workshop. The client had asked us to help them imagine how AI could shape their organization’s future. The opportunity came only a few days before we had to travel. There was hardly any time to prepare deeply, but the excitement was real.

People from different teams across our company were flying in. For many of us in design, workshops like this are what we live for. There’s energy, nerves, and a sense that something meaningful is about to happen. I was traveling with a colleague from the design team, and we were both full of that creative buzz.

But in all that energy, something important was missing. We didn’t really pause to understand the client — their background, their culture, or what mattered most to them. We were also balancing other presentations for other clients at the same time. So while our hearts were in Dubai, our time was divided.

Even after reaching, we were still editing our slides in the hotel lobby — fixing, polishing, rethinking. I must’ve practiced my part a hundred times in front of the mirror at my room. The concept was new, and I wanted to make sure I could explain it well. That night, I felt a bit nervous, but mostly hopeful. I believed we’d do well.

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The Morning of the Workshop

The next morning, the hotel lobby felt like a scene from a movie. Some teammates had landed just hours before, and still managed to show up on time, dressed sharp and ready. We joked about our looks and hairstyles — even I had combed my hair, which surprised everyone. My mom had called earlier and said, “At least comb your hair today!” It was a very “Indian mom” moment. And yes, I listened.

We all looked good. We felt good. There was a quiet belief that we could really make something big happen.

The client’s office was beautiful — modern, classy, warm. The auditorium had a calm energy. This was my first face-to-face workshop since COVID, and I could feel the nerves creeping in. But I told myself, “You’ve prepared. You’ll figure it out.”

As the client team started arriving, we realized the room was fuller than expected. More people. More attention. And they looked sharp — creative, focused, and clearly expecting something special.

When Things Started to Unravel

The first person from our team began the presentation. They had arrived late the previous night, and we hadn’t fully aligned. As they started to speak, the client’s expressions changed. They seemed confused. Questions came in. Answers didn’t land well.

Then the second speaker started — earlier than planned. The flow felt rushed. The client felt like we were sharing something generic — something they had already heard. Their energy dipped.

And that’s when it hit me.

My feet went cold. My name was next. Two hours earlier than scheduled.

I didn’t get a moment to gather my thoughts. I watched what was happening, and my mind raced:
“The story isn’t working.”
“They’re not convinced.”
“Now it’s my turn to fix this… but what if I can’t?”

Then I stepped up.

And honestly… I wasn’t myself.
My voice lost confidence.
My body language shrank.
I felt unsure. Small. Afraid.

A colleague gently told me afterward, “You looked submissive. That wasn’t like you.”
And they were right.
That wasn’t me.

But I took it hard.
Even though it was a shared breakdown, I blamed myself.
I went into a spiral, replaying every second, wondering what I could’ve done differently.

What This Dubai Story Taught Me

This is a story I wish I could erase.
But I now know — I needed this story to evolve.

Here’s what I’ve taken from it:

• Excitement is not a substitute for readiness. Energy is great, but it needs direction, grounding, and prep rooted in empathy for who you’re speaking to.
• Don’t rehearse in a vacuum. I practiced my words. But I didn’t rehearse with my team. We weren’t aligned on each other’s stories — and it showed.
• Failure is rarely solo — but we make it feel that way. It was a collective breakdown, yet I carried it alone. That’s a pattern I’m learning to break.
• Your inner voice is the loudest — and the cruelest. The real damage wasn’t the presentation. It was how I spoke to myself afterward.
• Letting go is part of leadership. I can’t erase what happened. But I can release the version of me who got stuck in it — and grow into someone stronger.
• Not every day has to be a win — but every day can be a lesson. That day didn’t go as planned. But that doesn’t make it a waste. It makes it part of the learning. A chapter, not the whole book.
• You are still growing, even when it feels like you’re falling. Growth isn’t always graceful. Sometimes it looks like a stumble. Sometimes it feels like a mess. But it’s still growth.’

How I’m Moving Forward

Not long ago, I came across something that helped me understand what was going on inside my head — cognitive distortions, or the negative thought filters that twist how we see ourselves after a setback.

So, I designed two characters in my mind.

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Hecky

Hecky is the loud voice of self-doubt.
He clings to my mistakes.
He keeps reminding me of what went wrong, over and over.
He sees only the failure and holds on to fear, guilt, and past beliefs.
Hecky doesn’t forgive — and he’s exhausting.

Becky

Becky is different, kind. Becky is quiet cheerleader I never had.
Becky notices the small wins.
Becky reminds me of the courage it took to show up, to try.
Becky forgives, supports. Becky believes that growth doesn’t come from being perfect — but from being honest and human.

Now, when I meditate, I visualize both of them.
I breathe in with Becky — calm, strong, and clear.
I breathe out with Hecky — letting go of what no longer helps me.

And every day, I ask myself:
“Who do I want to guide me today — Hecky or Becky?”

Because Growth Isn’t Just About Getting It Right

It’s also about falling.
And forgiving.
And learning how to stand up again with softness and strength.

Dubai was hard.
But it was real.
And real stories are the ones that shape us.

This one shaped me — into someone more aware, more grounded, and ready to rise again.