Today, I am writing this with a full and genuinely happy heart.
When I got into tech, it was never part of the plan. Not even close. I was supposed to be a nurse. Then a veterinarian. Then a psychologist. Before I ever became a database professional, I worked at a children’s treatment center, spending most of my days with kids struggling in ways no child ever should.
If you ever want to understand what it feels like to take the emotional weight of your job home with you every night, do that kind of work. I learned pretty quickly that, psychologically, I was not built to be around sick or dying humans or animals. I am sensitive and have way too much empathy, something I am pretty sure I inherited from my grandma. No amount of “being strong” could override that.
I did not fail those paths.
I listened to myself.
I found my way into computers almost by accident. At the time, my husband, whom I was dating then, was finishing a computer science degree while I was completing my Bachelor’s in Psychology. Somewhere along the way, I decided to get into tech, and I ended up earning a couple of computer science degrees instead. Not because it was easy, but because it gave me space to solve problems without absorbing emotional trauma as part of the job.
I learned. I grew. I adapted. And somewhere in that process, I discovered that I loved databases. I eventually found a company with a culture I admired, an inspiring leader, and coworkers who became like family. I stayed for years, it was home.
But when the culture shifted, and my manager started making decisions that felt unethical, I knew it was time to leave and grow. I have non-negotiables. Patient data and security are absolute lines I will never cross.
As humans, we often stay where we are because it feels like the right thing to do. Loyalty becomes a badge of honor we wear proudly. Companies encourage it, reward it, and sometimes guilt us into it. For a long time, I believed in that.
But loyalty without alignment comes at a cost.
So I jumped into the open market. People told me, “It’s not the right time. The market is bad.” But growth rarely comes from staying safe. It almost always happens in uncomfortable moments.
Even after making that leap, I still felt like something was missing. That culture. That feeling of gratitude. That sense of purpose.
Have you ever felt, deep down in your core, that you were meant to do something else? Something bigger. Something uncomfortable. Something people warn you not to pursue because it feels risky or impractical. That is exactly how I feel in my career.
I have always known consulting was where I was headed. Not because I was bored, but because I wanted to stretch. I wanted to be uncomfortable. I wanted to walk into environments where I did not already know all the answers.
But fear is powerful.
We like comfort.
We like predictability.
We like big companies where safety lives in routine.
We know the schema.
We know the data.
We know the incident process.
We know the people.
Most days, we know exactly what we are logging into.
But eventually, I had to ask myself, at what cost?
The moments I value most in my career were not the easy ones. They were the moments when I sat at my desk crying. Not because I was sad, but because I was so damn happy I figured something out. The kind of problem I never imagined I would be able to solve. The kind where it finally works and you just sit there, staring at the screen in disbelief, feeling humbled.
You remember where you came from and acknowledge where you are now (Please tell me I am not the only one who has had this happen).
That feeling never gets old.
What I want now is work that challenges me alongside people who appreciate what I bring to the table. A culture that does not gaslight or guilt people into longer hours. A team that collaborates instead of competes. People who lift each other up instead of quietly throwing each other under the bus.
Because I have seen that side of tech too.
People who smile in standup and watch you drown as if they are receiving some kind of satisfaction.
A supportive culture.
I know they exist.
I have seen them.
I have worked in them.
That is the whole point.
One of the clearest moments of confirmation came at PASS. PASS feels like home to me.
I tend to be the extroverted weirdo in tech, the person people look at and quietly wonder, “Where did she come from?” But PASS is different. It is like being a duck your whole life and not realizing there are other ducks out there, and then suddenly you are surrounded by them. Just mentally ill ducks who love databases.
This year at PASS, I met Jeff Iannucci, Mike Lynn, and Alyssa Montgomery. For the first time in a long time, I did not feel like I had to water myself down. I could just be me. They love databases just as much as I do.
It reminded me that the right environments exist.
So I am moving toward something that aligns with who I am now.
Work that is challenging.
A company that genuinely cares about its customers and security.
People who treat each other like family.
A culture that values growth and mental health.
This next chapter is not about proving anything.
It is about finally trusting myself enough to follow the path I have felt pulling at me.
I am scared.
I am intimidated.
I am excited.
For the first time in a long time, I feel true to myself. I am choosing something that is not comfortable. I am choosing something that requires courage.
I am joining Straight Path.
Because it represents growth without compromise, curiosity without ego, and a culture where doing the right thing actually matters.
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