You Don't Know What You Don't Know
How a Stalking Incident Led Me to an Unexpected Career in Nonprofit Leadership
When the Plan Changes, the Path Can Still Lead Somewhere Extraordinary
My professional journey wasn't a smooth ride, and it looked nothing like what I had planned. In many ways, it began with an unexpected and frightening situation that forced me to make a decision I never imagined I would face: choosing my safety over the future I had so carefully mapped out.
At the Start of My Sophomore Year in College, I Had It All Figured Out
I would take summer classes, earn as many certificates as I could, get into graduate school, and enter the field of speech-language pathology. I loved linguistics and language, so it seemed like the most natural path for me.
Then something happened.
I started receiving texts and calls from unknown numbers, all of them somehow tying back to the same man—a man I didn't know. As the situation continued to escalate, I filed a police report, hoping that a call from law enforcement would be enough to end the harassment.
It wasn't.
Eventually, he was charged with menacing by stalking.
Every day became frightening. Every unfamiliar face could have been him. How did he find me? It was a question I never got an answer to.
Still, I kept going.
School became a welcome distraction and gave me something productive to focus on. But by my junior year, the fear had become overwhelming. Between classes, frequent trips to the police station, court appearances, and the constant feeling of looking over my shoulder, I reached a point where I simply wanted to get away.
Fortunately, all of that early planning served me in a way I never expected. I had accumulated enough credits to make the decision to graduate early, at 20 years old, and move away.
I was incredibly grateful for the opportunity to feel safe again, but there was a cost. I left school without some of the prerequisites I needed to pursue graduate school in the field I had planned for.
For the first time, I had no roadmap.
I felt lost. I felt resentful. And I had absolutely no idea what I was supposed to do next.
What I Did Know Was That I Needed to Keep Moving Forward
I needed to support myself, build a life, and somehow find a career that fit. So I tried just about everything.
I worked in retail, sales, hospitality, serving, and, eventually... nonprofit work?
I didn't know it then, but I was laying the groundwork for a career that would become both successful and deeply meaningful to me.
My introduction to nonprofit work was through a part-time position facilitating financial education and college-preparation programming for high school girls. And I loved it.
I loved helping people.
I loved watching young women gain confidence and work toward their goals.
I loved seeing communities rally around people who needed support.
The work felt meaningful, but it was also energizing and, quite simply, fun.
Not long after I started, I was offered the opportunity to become a Director of Development at just 23 years old.
I took the job and never looked back.
What began as a career I knew virtually nothing about grew into one centered on fundraising, communications, relationship-building, storytelling, and leadership. Over time, I learned how powerful nonprofit work can be—not only for the people receiving services, but also for the people who have the opportunity to bring a community together around a shared purpose.
In an Unexpected Way, I Also Found My Way Back to Something I Had Loved From the Beginning: Language
I may not have become a speech-language pathologist, but communication is at the heart of what I do every day.
I tell stories.
I write.
I help people understand why a mission matters.
I connect donors, organizations, and communities through words and ideas.
The career I ended up building may look completely different from the one I envisioned at 19, but it isn't nearly as disconnected from that young woman—or her interests—as I once thought.
Looking back, there was so much I didn't know.
I didn't know I would have to prioritize my safety over my education.
I didn't know how I would make my way in the world as a young adult.
I didn't know anything about working in the nonprofit sector.
I didn't know that a part-time job I took while trying to figure out my next move would introduce me to a career that would become so special to me.
But you just don't know what you don't know.
For a long time, uncertainty felt terrifying to me.
Today, I understand it differently.
I've learned that a meaningful career doesn't always come from following the plan exactly as you wrote it. Sometimes it comes from adapting when the plan changes, remaining open to opportunities you never expected, and trusting yourself enough to keep moving forward even when you can't yet see where the road is leading.
My career was not born from the circumstances I would have chosen.
But I am proud of what I built in the aftermath.
And if there is one thing my journey has taught me, it is this:
An unexpected path can still lead somewhere extraordinary.
