I’ve Been in Marketing for Over a Decade—and I Didn’t Even Know It
I didn’t set out to be in marketing. I just liked making things, curating stories, sharing what felt true. Tumblr was my starting line—2012 to 2015—back when growth strategy wasn’t a job title, and analytics wasn’t baked into the dashboard. I ran what was basically a niche online magazine, writing, designing, curating, and talking to an audience of 30,000 people I built from scratch. There was no roadmap. I just figured out what worked and did more of it. That’s marketing.
Then came college. 2014 to 2018. BA in Communications and Marketing. While I was sitting through lectures about brand psychology and media strategy, I was working nights at a small restaurant. What I learned in the classroom got applied to real-world problems before the exams even hit. I designed menus. I built logos. I ran point on social. I basically became their one-person creative department without asking for permission.
Every spare moment I had went to sharpening my craft: ad-hoc photography gigs, web content internships, a summer job out west writing blog content and running social for a local business. It was never about building a résumé. It was about staying curious and doing good work wherever it was needed.
In 2020, I landed my first office job—right before the world shut down. It was a small firm that had no idea what to do with marketing, but they knew they needed help. I started email campaigns. Updated their web copy. Boosted event attendance. It wasn’t glamorous. It was foundational. And it taught me how to build from the ground up, again.
But the job that shaped me most was at a fast-paced marketing agency. I learned how to juggle client expectations, deadlines, and internal politics without burning out (most of the time). I soaked up every campaign like a sponge—how strategy meets execution, how copy lands differently when it’s written with real intent, how good design isn’t about taste, it’s about clarity. I learned to lead. To coordinate across teams. To advocate for ideas. That job lit the match.
Eventually, I made the jump. I went out on my own. It was terrifying. I’m naturally anxious. Prone to self-doubt. But I’d spent the last ten years proving to myself—quietly, consistently—that I could figure things out. That I could adapt. That I could trust my gut even when my brain was spiraling.
And it worked. I built my own client base. I’ve run successful social media campaigns from start to finish. I’ve generated referrals because people trust the work I do. Because I don’t pretend. I don’t overpromise. I bring clarity, strategy, and execution.
Now, one year later, I miss a team. I miss the back-and-forth. The collective momentum. But I’ve never felt more grounded in what I’m capable of. This isn’t a rebrand. It’s a realization: I’ve been in this game longer than I knew. And I’m only getting sharper.