Several months ago, I was presented with the opportunity to doctor a book manuscript. Michelle Cully, the author, is this high-powered chick who owns a courier company in the metro-Boston area. If you saw her, you’d laugh, because she looks more like a pint-sized model than a trucking magnet, which is what she is.

Michelle had this amazing story about breaking free of a youthful, all-consuming, abusive relationship; about starting her own business out of her parents’ laundry room because she didn’t know what else to do with herself. How about that for a big “Fuck you, Roy! I’ll show you.”

Shaping her book was an interesting challenge. How to take the entire focus off of the horrific relationship–and it was integral to the story for sure–and transform the story into one of business-building, self-building tenacity. How to take a very personal story and make it relevant to a large audience.

Want to know how to build a business when you don’t know what the hell you’re doing, when you’re not sure you believe in yourself, well, you’ll want to buy the book the second it’s out.

What follows is the preface to High Heels In The Laundry Room. Enjoy.

In May 2017, I was honored to give the commencement speech for the graduating class of the New England College of Business and Finance. I was crazy nervous. This was the first college graduation I’d ever attended. In fact, I’d never set foot on a college campus until that moment. Well, that isn’t entirely true. I’m pretty sure I’d delivered a package or two to some college building or other—a shipment of textbooks, maybe some science equipment that weighed a ton. But take a class, that’s something I’d never done.

I looked out at the audience—row upon row of smiling faces; gowns; flat, square caps with tassels; proud parents snapping photos—and took a step away from the microphone. The audience members gazed back at me expectantly.

Really, I had no right to be there. I’d spent the previous two decades embarrassed whenever the conversation turned to everyone’s college experience, the big-name schools they’d attended, how far they’d come because of it, and where they could go thanks to their degrees. You want to key into my insecurities, my constant need for reassurance, just bring up my missing college degree. Some things you never outgrow.

A graduate in the front row, blond, tiny like me, leaned back in her chair and waited for me to begin. She couldn’t have been more than a couple of years older than my daughter. The young man beside her put his arm around her. I wondered if he was a sweet boy, like my son, or someone you’d want to watch out for. I forgot about myself for the moment, remembered why I was there. I began speaking, tentatively at first.

“As I look out at all of you today, I’ve got to say, I admire your tenacity, hard work, and the commitment that it’s taken to get you to where you’re sitting today. My hope is that my story will empower all of you to write your own story as you finish this chapter and continue on.”

I may not have a framed degree hanging on my wall, but what I do have is a business that is all mine. I didn’t pay tuition for the lessons my business taught me—well, that’s a lie, I pay for them every day, and let me tell you, I’ve sacrificed a lot for them—but that education was the reason I was giving a speech. I have a wildly successful business, one I started with my own hands—and that business helped me make something of myself against all the odds. That business saved me from myself.

“I’m in the trucking business. Yes, trucking. I’ve owned Xpressman Trucking and Courier, Inc. since 1993.” I looked around the auditorium and realized that I had everyone’s attention. No one expects a 100-pound woman in expensive high heels and a short skirt to head a trucking company. I should be a cosmetic sales rep or a talk show host. Looks aside, don’t get me started on my complete inability to find my way out of a paper bag. It’s still one of the best running jokes among those who know and love me. Simply put, I can’t manoeuver from point A to point B without getting lost, which is tough when you deal in logistics. I have a GPS in each of my vehicles. I do MapQuest, complete with printouts. I would carry atlases, radar equipment, even a divining rod in my trunk if they would help. If I want to get somewhere I don’t know well, I have to stay on the phone with my dispatchers each and every time because I can’t find my way around without their help. It’s kind of funny how dependent I still am, and how much I’ve had to learn about myself in order to be able to laugh in such situations.

“I built Xpressman from necessity, from hard work, and from sheer determination. Not bad for someone who was told, ‘You’ll never amount to anything.’ Who believed it.”

The room grew quiet. I had every person’s attention. It still takes me by surprise when people react that way to what I’ve got to say.

“I never set out to be an entrepreneur.” Apparently, I’m an entrepreneur. It’s funny for me to say those words because I think of an entrepreneur as someone with multiple companies, $50 million in the bank, and a summer home. Am I really an entrepreneur? I know that I am because I started my business by myself. I worked insanely hard to take it to where it is today. I make a comfortable living. I’ve made a nice life for myself and my family. I’ve even started another company, in real estate development. So, yes, I’m an entrepreneur. I just don’t see myself in that light, because I almost feel as though I’m not worthy to be called that. On top of which, I’m always afraid I’m going to lose what I have. I work so hard, and I fear that one day I’m going to wake up and it’s going to all be gone, or someone’s going to take it away from me, or I’m going to lose every client overnight. Even though, logically, I know I won’t let that happen.

“Actually, I was never truly sure what I was going to be. What I did know was that when I was sixteen I fell in love and I was quite content to be with my boyfriend. And for many years, he was my world.”

The blond girl in the front row raised an eyebrow. I’ve got this sixth sense, and sometimes I just know who needs to hear this story, who it might save. I proceeded to direct the rest of my story at her. I told her about my boyfriend; our violent relationship; how I lost my identity; how my family and friends had to pull me away from the wreckage; how I woke up one day and decided to start a company from my parents’ laundry room. How naive I was in the beginning, how tenacious I had to be to overcome the endless obstacles, how I learned to eat rejection with a knife and fork. I told her, and all the people in the auditorium, about the self-doubt, how I got taken advantage of, preyed upon, and how others felt sorry for me and helped me out. And that one day, after a lot of sleepless nights and grinding work, I realized that I could rely on myself, that I had the thing by the tail, and that it felt amazing. I told her everything, the good, the bad, and the ugly. Then I drove the point home.

“Today, I have well over a hundred employees and drivers. I own a 33,000-square-foot commercial warehouse building. Xpressman serves customers coast to coast. As I said, I never went to college. I never had a degree to help me navigate the business world.”

We are all inspired by success. But here’s what you’ve got to keep in mind: Even though someone may appear very successful, everybody’s got their vulnerabilities, challenges, and issues they’re working through. Everyone has had to learn life lessons, usually the hard way. It’s great to be inspired by something they’ve done, but it’s also important to realize that they’re human just like you, that they have insecurities too. Not everything about their life is perfect. When we keep that in mind, we can be a lot kinder to ourselves as we go through our own challenges and reach for our own goals. We tend to be way too hard on ourselves and put ourselves down, which only limits us from taking the action that we really want to take.

I had so many lessons I wanted to share with the audience–not just business lessons but personal lessons too, because they’re all intertwined. Someone once said that business problems are personal problems in disguise, but I think that personal problems are business opportunities in disguise.

“I believe things happen for a reason, that we’re given a path and it’s up to us to decide how to handle it, to make that path what we want it to be. What may not make sense today will make sense later. You control your own destiny, you can be as successful as you want to be, but it’s up to you to make that happen. No high school diploma? No problem. Disability? Let’s see where you fit in. Willing to work hard? Welcome to the team. Each one of you has a place in this world. Each one of you will face challenges. Face them head-on and believe you have the strength to turn adversity into opportunity.”

When I looked up from my notes, the audience was clapping. I could hear someone saying, “Ooh, wow. Wow.” People were staring at me as though I were a mini-superstar. The last word I would ever use to describe myself is “superstar.” Far from it.

“Congratulations, graduates,” I said, realizing that I should probably end on a high note.

At the close of the ceremony, a group of women approached me. “What a great story,” the boldest one said. “You need to write a book. I wish my youngest daughter had come. You would be such an inspiration to her. She’s all caught up with some guy.”

“Me? Oh my goodness, that’s so sweet.”

If they’d only met me twenty-five years earlier.