There’s a version of my resume that plays nice.
It’s tidy, optimized, full of the right verbs. It says I’ve led multiple events both in-person and virtually, launched viral podcasts, grown social media accounts by 300%, edited 10,000+ hours of audio, helped manage million-dollar campaigns, created nurture workflows in HubSpot, written for tech CEOs, and told stories that convert.
It’s all true.
But it’s not nearly the whole story.
Because there’s another resume.
The one that actually got me here.
That one says:
– Got sober in the middle of a pandemic with nothing but stubbornness, rage, and a promise to my daughter that I’d never disappear on her again
– Survived trauma that still shows up in my body: shaking hands, flinching when someone raises their voice, and tears that don’t wait for “a good time”
– Played cool in meetings while my world was falling apart. While I grieved my mother, buried old versions of myself, or waited for the next hospital update on my partner
– Raised a teenage girl through heartbreak, hormones, and high school English, all while figuring out who the hell I was without alcohol
– Created iGlitzCleaning.com from the ground up because someone strong, kind, and hardworking needed a digital home for the business she was trying to grow, and I had the skills to make that happen
– Crafted a 24-page wedding program because I couldn’t find a good enough template that held our story, so I made one that could.
– Launched ExHotMess.net to write the things people are too scared to say out loud, and hit “publish” with my whole heart anyway
– Held space for other women walking through hell through coaching, DMs, or circles because I know how much it matters to feel less alone
– Took Zoom calls from hospital hallways, parking lots, and waiting rooms because life kept happening, and I kept showing up
– Got let go from a job with grace that had absolutely no structure, no warning signs, and no real leadership—just vague praise and last-minute chaos—during a Slack huddle while sitting in a hospital room, watching the person I love writhe in pain. The client had no idea I was there. I didn’t tell him. I just thanked him, said I understood, and went right back to holding my partner’s hand.
– I didn’t quit
– I still haven’t
Professionally? Sure. I’ve worked in marketing for 15+ years. I’ve ghostwritten posts that went viral. I’ve built campaigns from scratch. I’ve run field events that actually drove pipeline. I’ve turned “do you have time for a quick call?” into five-figure contracts. I’ve done social, content, podcasting, SEO, email, partnerships, and brand voice. I’ve done it for dev tools, HealthTech, recovery brands, a solar company, nonprofits, and founders who didn’t know how to talk about what they do until I translated it into something human.
But none of that taught me more than surviving my own story.
Not the jobs.
Not the wins.
Not the shiny Atta-Girl testimonials.
I learned how to lead from watching my mother die with grace. I learned how to write copy that connects from surviving emotional abuse and knowing what it feels like to not be seen. I learned resilience from scraping change together for gas money and still pitching strategy like I belonged in the same room as highly intelligent people. I learned empathy from navigating my own CPTSD while trying to help my daughter feel safe in a world I hadn’t always felt safe in myself.
And yeah, I’m scared to post this.
Because now my professional network also reads my blog.
Because maybe this will make someone say, “She’s too much.”
But here’s what I know: Too much is why people trust me.
Too much is how I cut through the bullshit and get to the work that actually matters.
So this is the resume I don’t share on LinkedIn.
But maybe I should.
Because the truth is, anyone can write a strategy doc.
Not everyone can walk through fire and still want to make something beautiful.
And if you’re still here, still building, still healing, still figuring it out…you’ve got a hell of a resume too.
So no, you won’t find all of this on my LinkedIn profile.
But if you’re looking for someone who brings more than meh-trics—
Someone who leads with heart, delivers with grit, and doesn’t flinch when things get real—
You know where to find me.