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| Having Fun at the Brooke Owens Fellowship Summit, July 2019 |
For as long as I can remember in my
adult life, I’ve been trying to prove myself. My constant effort
balancing multiple projects, most unpaid to gain
experience, recognition, or networking. My all-too-frequent battles
with impostor syndrome, a war within myself to conquer self-doubts
and dismiss undue self-criticisms. The hunts and races seeking
admission into projects or meetings or circles I felt I belonged in
or could belong in if given the chance to grow. The unresolved
questions following rejection or disregard: Is it me? Is it my age?
Is it my gender? Is it my reputation? Is it something within my
control to change or maddingly outside of my control? Despite earning
and pushing my way through many doors, I too frequently feel as an
outside looking in, striving for more acceptance and more opportunity
to prove I can do this.
I was largely ignored by my professors
as an undergraduate student, as most undergrads are, only gaining
recognition and acceptance by them after I had graduated and proved
myself with additional successes. I was ultimately rejected by my
primary advisor in my first graduate school, being issued an “it’s
my way or the highway” ultimatum and choosing the highway, boldly
and unabashedly choosing my own path. I was bullied by a peer in my
second graduate school and my self-confidence plummeted despite my
more advanced successes. My first full-time job kept me locked in a
cage, refusing to allow me the space to grow despite my frequent cage
rattlings and occasional breakouts. It was only in my second
full-time position when, given the title of Manager and the freedom
of flexibility and responsibility, I began to feel myself thrive.
Unfortunately, that position didn’t last when the company declared
bankruptcy.
My true acceptance of my career success
and space community membership didn’t come until I started my own
company Astralytical nearly 4 years ago. But it didn’t come
immediately. That first year I felt as though I was grasping at
straws, pursuing any potential path forward, frequently ignored or
worse: being led down rabbit holes by insincere promises and
exploitations. The pride I felt signing my first two clients was
quickly deflated when the first could not pay me as promised and the
second took advantage of my naivety and lack of internalized
self-worth.
A constant theme throughout: I was
worth more but didn’t realize it.
It's a strange feeling to realize I've
operated for so long under the motivation, “I want to make a
difference,” to then realize: I am making a difference. It's
turning the tables on my career position, my level of accomplishment,
my age, my very purpose in what I do every day. I tend to carry with
me the ever-illusive question, “What can I do to become successful
in my field?” when I really should be carrying with me, “I am
successful in my field. What do I want to do with my success?” It's
a difficult change in mindset to grasp.
Only now, in my mid 30s, growing my
company, feeling the ease of acceptance and belonging (most of the
time), do I feel this success. I have moments of doubt which are
squashed by someone or something reassuring me. Earlier this year, a
colleague reached out to me in concern with a, “What are you doing?
You've made it. You're great. You're on the right track and you've
got potential to really influence things. You don't need to make this
tangential move.” Sometimes an outside perspective can really help
breathe fresh air into my lungs.
A blast of fresh air came this summer
with 38 impressive, inspiring young professionals I was privileged to
meet as part of the Brooke Owens Fellowship. This year I served as a
mentor for the program, a position I felt wholly inadequate to
fulfill, but I did my imperfect best.
The Brooke Owens Fellowship Summit
(along with the adjacent Future Space Leaders conference which I was
pleased to volunteer my time to help run) was a series of events and
a collection of people who touched my heart and motivated me to
become even better at what I do and what I strive to do. The Brookies
are a sisterhood who shared deep parts of their heart with us
fortunate to be in the room. I have never seen anything like it and I
doubt it could be replicated at another event. As I walked back to my
hotel room that night with one of the other mentors, my heart felt so
full. I did not know I could feel so emotionally connected at a space
event.
The strength, passion, enthusiasm,
ambition, and encouragement of the Brookies brought me back 14 years
to my first NASA internship during my junior year of undergrad, a
program called NASA Academy which focused on leadership and the “one
NASA” experience. I didn't feel inadequate during my two NASA
Academy summers. I felt on top of the world! I had my whole career
ahead of me and I knew it was starting off well. I could have never
guessed the twists, turns, falls, and heights I'd experience in my
early career which carried me to where I am now.
I feel a different kind of pressure
now: the pressure to live up to the expectations and admirations of
those who are now where I was then. I am making a difference right
now, and people are watching. What do I do with this responsibility?
What direction do I focus my efforts? Where can I make the most
impact in the community I love? What kind of difference do I want to
make? What future do I want to help create for those who will carry
the torch for us when we're gone?
I don't know where I'll go from here.
I'm not sure how I'll do my part to progress space exploration
forward. I have some ideas. I hope I'm in for a wild ride!
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