I didn’t really plan on being here.
For a long time, I thought I’d end up in Art History. Not in a rattle off facts and dates way, but in an “I’m really drawn” — pun intended — to artists kind of way. Their inner worlds. Their quirks. The history they shared through their work. And the antiquated systems that still decide who gets seen and who doesn’t.
At least, that was Pre-2008-Recession-Vanessa.
Instead, of all places, I landed in administrative support, which eventually led to executive support. So yes, a totally different room. I sat close to leaders, helping keep their forward momentum moving. Planning. Deciding. Playing Calendar Tetris at an expert level. Carrying more than people realized.
And because noticing things seems to be my thing,
I started noticing leaders the way I once noticed artists. Their inner worlds. The goals and legacies shaping their work. The impact of responsibility and pressure. How much of business isn’t about brilliance, but steadiness.
It wasn’t glamorous. It was real. And I was paying attention.
Art History called to me because I wanted to make space for unheard voices. And, as we’ve established, I didn’t end up there. But in the spirit of what I once wanted, I built space. An entryway that didn’t exist yet.
A place for me to land that could actually hold all of the layered parts of me and put them to good use
has always marched a little differently. I figured the extra layer was just a quirk I had to work around.
It wasn’t too long after my child was diagnosed as neurodivergent that I was too. And it totally tracks. Not only was I able to make more sense of how I was experiencing the world around me, but I came to realize some of the “quirks” were strengths to nurture and challenges to support.
The cool part is, I have a brain built for nuance. It sees detail and big picture at the same time. It notices what’s missing. It doesn’t scare easily when things get messy. Which is good, because things do get messy.
Turns out, that’s pretty useful.
is a pretty big part of who I am. And noticing has shaped me into a layered human. Not like an onion. More like a parfait.
I’ve spent a lot of my life trying to fit inside a world that wasn’t built for how I process it. That creates masks. It creates personality traits that don’t always seem to belong together. Loud and quiet. Tender and sharp. Steady and a little chaotic.
Instead of trying to trim those down, I’ve learned to embrace them. The good. The challenging. The parts that don’t fit neatly. Understanding my core, what makes me difficult and smart and perceptive, has changed everything.
Because knowing is the foundation that builds the rest. And doing it with audacity is how it becomes seen in the world.
Whether it’s sorting chaos so a team can see their true north, or helping someone recognize the layers of what they’ve built, it comes from the same place.
With noticing.
Get to Know “Work-Me”
If you made it this far, something must be vibing a little.
Here’s what I know. No one actually has it all together. Not the sleek brands. Not the confident founders. Not the people who look like they run a tight ship. I’ve been in those rooms. There’s always a draft. Always something slightly taped together just out of sight.
It’s messy. That’s normal.
We’re building things in a world where everything is loud and everywhere all at once. Of course there’s a pile. Of course there’s noise. Of course you can’t always see the brilliant part through it.
It’s still there.
And if you take anything with you from this page, even if we never work together, let it be that. The mess doesn’t disqualify you. The pile can be sorted. The good part is still good.
Sometimes it all just needs a place to land.
