The evening should have been the pinnacle of her career. As Addie mounted the stairs in the Grand Ballroom to accept the award, she felt awkward in the tight, black, floor-length gown that restricted her movement even more than the skimpy heels underneath. She'd never felt quite comfortable in dresses or with her hair up, but the occasion required it and her hotel had just won the highest award possible in one of the most well known hospitality companies in the world. So she had to look the part. Her team had accomplished the impossible, exceeding performance in all key performance indicators on the company's balanced scorecard.

She was accepting the leadership award for the Top Hotel in the World from the tall and aristocratic Chairman of the Board. Mike Rockwell dripped with charm, smarts and tan good looks. Addie felt weak-kneed as she mounted the marble stairs to the podium.

The room teemed with the luxurious romance of colorful floral arrangements and candlelight bouncing off antique gold chandeliers. Into the far corners of darkness, all she could see were black ties, tuxedoes and shimmering gowns. Was it possible she knew all these people and she was up here on stage? Were those her team members being interviewed, talking about her on the towering screen behind her? The flush on her upper chest betrayed her nervousness and embarrassment. Addie was always uncomfortable being the center of attention and this was a moment where being onstage was unavoidable. Taking care of other people usually kept the focus off of her. Wasn't this why she'd chosen hospitality, to avoid her own emptiness? What was she doing up here? The cameras flashed as she held the heavy Rockwell Trophy in her arm, all smiles in the embrace of the powerful Chairman of the Board. And then, as quickly as it came, the moment was over.

Addie descended the stairs, a crowded rush of chattering colleagues immediately surrounding her, chomping out congratulations, enthusiastic handshakes and rowdy embraces. The rest of the evening was a blur. Addie was swept around the room as person after person offered congratulations. She found herself with no sense of satisfaction, though she'd worked tirelessly for the last two years. Instead, a dark cloud enveloped her consciousness. She desperately tried to avoid something on the edge of her awareness but it was gaining on her. Perspiration rolled down her back as she danced with someone she didn't even know. She had no idea what he'd just said and was at a loss for how to answer. What am I doing here?

The room full of people overwhelmed Addie with emotions she'd hoped to avoid, and she longed to escape. When she felt the old familiar pain she knew so well, the only solution was to be alone. That way no one could see past her false bravado and she could stop pretending, a practice that took great effort and drained her of precious energy.

Going out to party in the clubs after the ceremony was out of the question, so Addie uttered apologetic goodbyes and headed back to the safety of her quiet hotel suite. This was her big night in lights but her singular focus was to call her team and tell them what they'd won. Maybe that would help lift her spirits. Unfortunately it was too late to catch the night manager. Instead, the hotel's long time, loyal night auditor, Chuck, was on the other end of the phone.

He responded with his usual lack of enthusiasm to Addie's good news, but he did promise to tell the team first thing in the morning. Addie was sure they'd be thrilled with the news and awed by the irony of earning this prestigious award in a year when they'd worked fewer hours each week (no more grueling 70-hour weeks), focusing on life practices that enabled performance AND balance. The team would be so proud of the accomplishment, mostly because of the many obstacles they'd overcome together. Yet the exhilaration of the historic moment wouldn't have the expected effect on Addie.

She hung up the phone, her mind in utter silence. Sitting awkwardly positioned on the bed, legs dangling, her delicate sandals fell off with a light thud that sounded louder than it should. She had no idea what to do next. A frightening prospect, for a person who finds her value in moving forward to take care of someone or something. Staring blankly at the trophy sitting on the parlor table, she let her soul go black with the emotions she'd been avoiding.

Addie was aware of only one thing. She felt as alone as she'd ever felt. It dawned on her that she had no one else to call. Her daughter, Emma, was long tucked into bed, her troubled marriage was all but over, and she didn't have any close friends. Energy was reserved for work, her daughter, and anything else that kept her busy enough to avoid the dark feelings that chased her. She worked all the time and avoided social relationships that required any serious level of commitment on her part. She could call her parents, but they were busy with lives of their own and probably asleep, too. The absence of people who might care about her accomplishment was suddenly and conspicuously obvious.

In that moment of clarity, Addie deeply acknowledged the personal cost of her relentless drive to work more than she should and with a force she was yet to understand. In the silence, a still small voice rang out: "Who is there to care if you win?"

Suddenly the trophy looked too large, too shiny and very, very cold. Instead of success, it represented lost love, broken loyalties, a half-furnished house full of dead plants, a neglected cat and questionable parenting. She sat stunned by the shock, completely present to the pain of loneliness. The trajectory of her life flashed through her mind as she wondered what she'd been so hell-bent to find. What manner of energy propelled her drive for work, so much that it dominated her entire being?

Her daughter, Emma, was the only person she'd let come close enough to see the truth. Most painful of all was the knowledge that Emma could plainly see her ruse. What manner of life was she teaching her beloved daughter to pursue? Her mind flashed back to the last time she'd been late to pick Emma up from dance practice. With tears in her eyes, Emma had wisely asked why work was so important. More important than her. That memory still felt like a dagger in Addie's heart and put the trophy into crystal clear perspective.

As she looked around, the perfectly furnished suite looked surreal. The luxury of the linens and the grandeur of the accommodations were suddenly not very comforting. In the silence of her room, Addie could no longer avoid the staccato of sound in her ears, as loud as a symphony of cicadas screaming in unison on a dark July evening. Yet unlike the peacefulness of a summer evening, this particular sound was maddening, imposing and rising up.

In a coherent moment-of-truth Addie knew what she so desperately needed – a familiar pair of loving eyes, two hands holding her face to wipe away the tears now streaming down her cheeks. She longed for a warm embrace that represented everything she hadn't had in a long time and maybe never would, if she didn't make some changes. This realization gave her a small spark of hope.

The wide gap between who she was at work and who she was in her personal life was a fissure at her center that divided her into two persons. Suddenly she desperately wanted to be whole. She knew she was capable of being more, she just didn't know how to find that path, much less where it would...