A dream we carried for decades
My husband and I had talked about moving to London ever since we honeymooned there. It was one of those ideas that felt romantic but unrealistic. We both had big careers, a teenage son, and a life that didn’t leave much room for something that disruptive. Then COVID happened.
We went from constant travel and obligations to sitting down together every night for dinner at home. Fortunately, we didn’t kill each other, and that pause gave us space to ask a different question: not if we could live in London, but how. Around the same time, I was starting to think about stepping back from my role at American Airlines. The pieces began to line up.
American was incredibly supportive. I transitioned out of my CIO role and moved into an advisory capacity that allowed me to relocate with my husband and son while still contributing to the company. A distant idea had now become a very real next chapter.
Preparing well (and still mourning what mattered)
From the outside, my transition looked seamless. It was planned, supported, and gradual. I stepped down in stages—150% (because what executive job is really only 100%?!) to 80%, then to 50%. That tapering helped a lot. But even with all that preparation, there was still a big sense of loss.
I had spent decades in an executive role making decisions that impacted thousands of people, and you don’t just replace that overnight. I have a friend who flew wide-body aircraft for American his whole career. Watching him reckon with the end of that chapter gave me a framework for my own. At some point, it ends, and you have to acknowledge
you won’t be in that seat again. But once you’ve done that, you can start again.
Why structure mattered more than answers
Working with my MyNextSeason advisor gave me something I didn’t realize I needed: structure. The regular conversations and reflection may not have provided all the answers for what would come next, but they created intentionality around a process that can otherwise just happen to you. My wonderful advisor had to witness more than a few tears, but the space to process the emotional side of leaving, not just the logistical side, made a big difference.
Starting over across the pond
Landing in London was the easy part. Rebuilding my network wasn’t. I was deliberate about it—following every introduction, meeting friends of friends, and making my interests known. One important step that paid off was moving my International Women’s Forum membership from Dallas to London. A post in that group resulted in my board seat at the UK Environment Agency, which has been a wonderful alignment of my interest in sustainability and my technology skills.
Meanwhile, a fellow CIO in a US women technology leaders’ Slack group I belong to introduced me to a consultant who did work in London. She then connected me to the CEO of an enterprise SaaS scale-up, where I now serve on the board and am enjoying learning a lot about early-stage companies. Three introductions. None of them planned.
Building a varied portfolio
I feel like I have a good balance of board roles now—a US-based public, a small UK private, a government agency, and a not-for-profit. Together, they create a portfolio that exposes me to a lot of different business realities. I’ve also stayed connected to the airline industry through Breaking Down Barriers, a nonprofit founded by my former boss and CEO of American, Doug Parker, and his wife, Gwen, focused on helping students from underrepresented communities become commercial airline pilots. It’s exactly the kind of work the industry (and the world, for that matter) needs more of.
I’ve also kept a foot in the industry in a more flexible, creative way. I’m part of a rotating pool of co-hosts for the podcast Airlines Confidential, which has offered me the opportunity to engage with people and ideas I care about, without the demands of an operating role. It’s a lot of fun!
Learning how different “familiar” can be
UK boards operate differently from US ones in ways that aren’t obvious at first—more formal in some ways, surprisingly less so in others. The learning curve is real. But I discovered early on that the fastest way to bond with Londoners has nothing to do with governance: just agree that the weather is terrible (it isn’t … but I’ve learned to keep that to myself).
From “what if” to today
If I could go back, I would tell my preretirement self to worry less about how fulfillment would show up. My uncertainty over what would replace the sense of purpose I had in my executive role took up more space than it deserved.
London was always a “what if” for us. Honeymooned there, talked about it for years, and never believed it would happen. Now my husband and I have dinner here every night, just like during COVID. Only this time, we’re not cooking—the great restaurants of London are doing the honors.