I never thought a vacuum cleaner store would become the place where I found my confidence, but life has a way of surprising us when we’re ready to grow.

In 1978, my girls were all in school, and we needed a little extra income. My father and brother-in-law ran a successful Kirby vacuum store in Lubbock, and they needed help. “Just a secretary,” they said. I accepted the job with some hesitation—my old anxiety creeping up the moment I realized I was stepping into unfamiliar territory again.

But what I didn’t expect was how ready I actually was.

After years of raising children and living the military spouse life—packing up, moving across states, making a home out of base housing—I’d unknowingly built more resilience than I’d ever had before. So I told anxiety, “Not today,” and walked into that store with determination.

At first, I played the part: bookkeeping, answering phones, managing the front. But it wasn’t long before I began watching my dad. He wasn’t just selling vacuums—he was connecting. He remembered customer names, details about their families, asked about their lives. That wasn’t salesmanship—it was sincerity. And I absorbed every bit of it.

The funny thing is, my dad gave me more than anxiety genes—he also passed down his gift for relating to people. Before long, I was doing more than filing paperwork. I was answering questions, recommending products, and eventually closing sales. I, the girl who once cried at the thought of being called on in school, was now confidently loading vacuums into trunks.

And it wasn’t just about selling Kirby vacuums. It was about seeing myself as capable. It was about discovering I had strengths that had never been activated—skills, instincts, and a presence that customers trusted.

One day, Dad and Dan left me in charge of the store with the repairman. And I didn’t panic. I ran the place like I owned it. Every time they left me alone after that, I felt more and more like I wasn’t just filling in—I was standing tall in a space that I had earned.

Releasing Alexandra isn’t just about breaking out of emotional cages—it’s about all the little milestones along the way. And that vacuum store? It was one of mine. It taught me that I didn’t have to let anxiety dictate my potential. That sometimes, walking through the door of an opportunity—no matter how small it seems—can lead you straight into a more powerful version of yourself.

So yes, I sold Kirby vacuums. But more than that, I sold myself on the idea that I was strong, skilled, and ready for more. And I never looked back.