The Business of Belief: What It Took to Bet on Myself (Again)

When I was newly 23, I started my first organization—Open Doors Academy—with equal parts passion, recklessness, and youthful naiveté. I had no roadmap, no funding, and no clue what I was getting into. But I also had nothing to lose.

I was single, untethered, and fueled by a relentless drive to build something that mattered. At that age, risk felt exhilarating. I didn’t yet have the life experience—or the fully developed frontal lobe—to understand how hard it would be. And maybe that was a gift.

Because I did build something. Over 17 years, Open Doors Academy grew into a statewide model for out-of-school time learning. It became a place of safety, opportunity, and transformation for thousands of students and families. It was, and always will be, one of the great honors of my life.

But leaving that chapter and stepping into this next one felt entirely different.

At 46, the stakes are higher. I have a family. I have significant financial responsibilities. I have a few scars—lessons hard-earned from a career that hasn’t always gone according to plan. And I have the heavy, quiet fear that maybe I’ve already done the most impactful thing I’ll ever do.

So when I started Catalyzed Impact, it wasn’t my first time building something from the ground up—but it was the first time I felt this vulnerable doing it.

This time, I wasn’t leaping with reckless abandon. I was standing on the edge, asking:

• Would anyone want to work with me?

• Can I still lead with conviction after being knocked down?

• Is there room for reinvention at this stage in the game?

And the answer—though it took time, therapy, and the kind of deep personal excavation I wasn’t ready for at 22—was yes.

Yes, I can lead. Yes, I have more to give. Yes, my past missteps don’t disqualify me—they deepen me.

In the past nine months, I’ve had the opportunity to work with several incredible organizations—and help set their stage on fire. I never wanted to be a traditional consultant who parachutes in, creates a plan, and disappears. I wanted to dive deep, roll up my sleeves, and walk alongside leaders, helping them see their own strength and possibility—and then watch them rise.

I didn’t know if anyone would be willing to make the financial investment to take themselves to the next level. But I was proven wrong.

I’ve found deep professional satisfaction in watching teams grow in ways even I didn’t predict. I’ve seen boards reignite their sense of purpose and reimagine how they lead. I’ve witnessed individuals rediscover joy in their redefined roles. I’ve celebrated with teams in their wins—and sat with them in their hardest moments, always the strategist, mentor, and cheerleader, helping them uncover the next opportunity, even in the face of temporary loss.

This is the work I was meant to do.

Catalyzed Impact is the culmination of everything I’ve learned—not just from success, but from the moments I questioned whether I still belonged. It exists to help nonprofits navigate transition, reclaim stability, and reimagine what's possible. And perhaps most importantly, it exists because I finally decided to bet on myself again—this time, with eyes wide open.

If you’ve been sitting in the in-between—between what you’ve built and what you’re being called to next—let this be a reminder:

You don’t need to be fearless. You just need to believe that you still have more to build.

Because belief isn’t just for the beginning. Sometimes, it's what carries us through the middle.