We recently connected with Tressa Lacy and have shared our conversation below.
Tressa, thanks for taking the time to share your stories with us today What was one of the most important lessons you learned in school? Why did that lesson stick with you?
It was late summer, and my sophomore year of high school was about to begin. It had been a year since I’d experienced a traumatic logging accident, and the surgeon, concerned the infection I’d grappled with would come back, said he needed to perform a final surgery to remove the plate and screws that had been holding my leg together for the last twelve months.
I knew it was the right thing to do, but it was hard to face surgery again, knowing it would be another six months before the bone fully recovered, and worse, knowing I’d be weak at a time my family needed me to be strong. Despite my parents, twelve siblings, and my efforts to hold everything together by working in the family logging business for the last ten years, the final mountain available to us had just shut its gates for good. We were transitioning out of logging, which meant we were struggling financially more than ever.
Haunted by the cost of survival—the life flight, blood transfusions, and now the seventh surgery I received in order to survive—I was determined to continue to contribute to the family despite my weakness. The week after surgery, I pushed weakness aside and pretended I was perfect—juggling multiple jobs while on crutches—cleaning cabins, cashiering at the grocery store, and even cutting posts and poles with my siblings in the mornings.
When school began, I was committed to the same ‘do it all and do it perfect’ mentality. My first class was weightlifting. Yet, despite my denial and determination, I could not perform all of the leg exercises the way my teacher expected. I thought that after all I’d been through, he’d give me a pass. But he didn’t.
When report cards came out, I saw it: my first B. It stung. That single grade felt like the weight of failure, especially since I’d worked so hard to maintain a perfect 4.0 GPA despite my limited time for schoolwork due to other work.
I was convinced that a flawless record was not only another way to prove my worth but also my ticket to scholarships and the key to building a better future.
I confronted my teacher about the grade, expecting sympathy. Instead, he looked me straight in the eye and said, “It’s high time you learned that perfection isn’t achievable. Get over it.”
His words tasted bitter, and that B haunted me through the rest of high school. It stood there, glaring at me on my transcript, the single blemish keeping me from that perfect GPA.
But as painful as that entire experience was, it turned out to be one of the most valuable lessons I’ve ever learned.
When I went off to college—with more than enough scholarships, I might add—I finally let my weightlifting teacher’s words sink in and let go of the perfectionism that had gripped me for so long. I felt able to stop chasing an impossible standard and instead focus on doing my best.
Today, when I look at my undergraduate transcript, I acknowledge that my Bs represent my best effort as much as my As do, and that it’s good enough.
As an accounting professor, when my students come to me, desperate for an A, armed with excuses or personal pleas, I offer them compassion. But I also smile a wry smile, remembering my weightlifting teacher, and when I feel it necessary, I give them the same dose of reality: perfection isn’t the goal—progress is.
Tressa, love having you share your insights with us. Before we ask you more questions, maybe you can take a moment to introduce yourself to our readers who might have missed our earlier conversations?
If working as a child lumberjack taught me anything, it was that when I got older, I wanted an occupation where I could contribute more with my mind than my body. I wanted a stable profession, one where I wasn’t in danger every day, where I didn’t have to worry about getting injured or losing my ability to provide for myself or my family. One where I don’t wake up early every morning hoping I could cut enough trees to pay for my next meal.
I didn’t know exactly what I wanted to do, but when I stumbled into accounting, it didn’t take me long to see its potential to improve not only my life, but to create meaningful change. Speaking and interpreting the language of business is a gift that has allowed me to help individuals build and sustain successful businesses, create jobs, and improve livelihoods. Accounting knowledge has the power to create opportunities and stability, and I am passionate about creating change through sharing this knowledge with others. This passion has led me to become an accounting professor, where I teach students how to use their knowledge and skills to become leaders, drive meaningful change, and help eliminate poverty in all its forms.
In addition to teaching, my passion for creating change has led me to become an inspirational speaker. Since being featured in Zonta International’s Remarkable Women, Powerful Stories series, I’ve had the privilege of sharing my story with audiences worldwide. Speaking from the heart—with authenticity, vulnerability, and hope for a brighter future—has allowed me to connect with people in a meaningful way.
Whether I’m on stage or in the classroom, my mission is the same: to redefine value beyond productivity in a way that inspires people to see their lives with new eyes and encourages them to step boldly onto the path toward a brighter tomorrow.
How about pivoting – can you share the story of a time you’ve had to pivot?
Several years ago, I hit a breaking point. I was struggling with my health, overwhelmed by the demands of raising five young children, and trying to juggle professional and volunteer commitments. Beneath it all, I was drowning in a relentless feeling of not being enough.
I didn’t have a clear path forward, so I started small. Each morning when I woke up, I sought a quiet space to seek inspiration. It wasn’t a dramatic transformation but a slow, steady process of piecing together tiny moments of guidance—like assembling a puzzle without knowing what the final picture would look like. Over two years, those moments began to form a clearer vision, and I realized it was time to pivot.
That realization led me back to school to pursue an advanced degree. It was a leap of faith that opened my eyes in ways I never could have imagined, beginning with sharing my story in a scholarship essay. I was certain I had no chance of receiving enough support to return to school as I was competing against individuals from 67 countries. So I was shocked when every scholarship committee said the story of a child lumberjack in America stood out in unexpected ways. Until that moment, I thought how I grew up was normal. After all, I had twelve siblings who grew up the same way I did.
I’ll never forget when the Puget Sound Business Journal called to say I’d received the Women of Influence/Lytle Enterprises award. They said, “Your application impressed the committee immediately. Your story of growing up in logging camps and overcoming terrifying injuries, only to dedicate your life to helping others, simply jumped off the page.”
This reaction was mirrored by other organizations, and the mentorship offered in response caused me to pivot in another way: to see my life and my worth with new eyes.
But this time the pivot wasn’t about doing more. It was about focusing on my worth by existing, not on what I accomplished. In that space, I found the courage to ask for help and surrounded myself with people who excelled in areas where I struggled. Accepting help gave me the support I needed to overcome my health struggles, provide more opportunities for my children, and reach my volunteer goals. Most importantly, it allowed me to cultivate compassion for that nagging feeling of not being enough.
This shift changed everything, and all the puzzle pieces began to come together. Upon graduation, I was invited to teach accounting at the university level—a role that brings me immense joy and fulfillment. Around the same time, I was able to found a nonprofit to support Afghan refugee women. In what felt like divine timing, the organization was fully operational eighteen months before the Taliban took Kabul. Being able to serve during such a critical moment reinforced just how transformative that pivot was.
Today, I rarely feel crushed by the weight of endless commitments or the fear of falling short. Instead, I seek peace with where I am and with what I can balance, knowing the people who value me most simply want me to spend time with them, not to do more and more in an effort to feed the endless feeling of not being enough.
The biggest lesson from my pivot was that it was never about doing more or proving my worth. It was about letting go of that mindset entirely, seeking support, and believing that I am enough—just as I am. In that space I’ve found a life of support, connection, meaning, and purpose.
What do you think is the goal or mission that drives your creative journey?
My creative journey is driven by a deep commitment to help others embrace the truth that our worth is not tied to what we produce. This mission stems from my own experience: At fourteen, after a life-threatening logging accident, I came face-to-face with the painful realization that my worth was measured in board feet. When I could no longer contribute physically, I felt worthless. That moment shaped the trajectory of my life and sparked a lifelong commitment to challenging the idea that value must be earned.
Relearning my value became the driving force behind everything I do today, whether teaching, speaking, writing, or championing change.
My upcoming memoir, Lumberjack Girl, delves into this theme through the lens of my upbringing as a child lumberjack. The book shares my journey before and after the accident, where, haunted by the cost of survival, I push my broken body to its limits to atone for the accident and prove my life is worth saving. Beyond writing, this mission fuels the message behind all of my speaking engagements.
From leading university classrooms to speaking and founding a nonprofit to support marginalized women and children, every chapter of my journey reflects my commitment to helping individuals uncover the strength and worth they may not yet see in themselves. Because when we stop measuring ourselves by what we produce and focus on the value we bring simply by existing, we step into the space where we can create meaningful change, foster stronger communities, and build brighter futures.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://www.tressalacy.com/
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/tressalacy1/
- Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/BrooklynShae123
- Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/tressalacy/
- Twitter: https://x.com/LacyTressa
Image Credits
SchlickArt – A Visual Marketing Company