Ten years ago, I was in a pretty dark place.
I’d quit my safe, secure, and enjoyable corporate job to move in with my boyfriend (who lived seven hours away from all of my family and friends).
More accurately, I quit my job so I could force myself to take the leap into self-employment, and living with my boyfriend was part of the public excuse I provided and private reasoning I used to justify the change.
I knew that if I’d waited to make the leap, I’d be too attached to the money (which was really excellent pay), the upward mobility (raises and long-term job prospects were pretty much guaranteed), and the fear that I couldn’t make it on my own.
I worried that if my boyfriend moved in with me (leaving all of HIS family and friends seven hours behind in the rearview mirror), I’d never trust myself enough to sustain my income and pay the rent on my cute seaside apartment as a freelancer.
If I’m honest, I just couldn’t imagine I’d ever be successful running my own business. Even though I’d dreamed of self-employment since high school, I knew the only way I would get past my fear was to pretend it didn’t exist.
So I saved up a bunch of money, gave my two months’ notice, and prepared to make the long trek from New Jersey to Virginia. I told all my old coworkers I was going to write a novel.
They knew I was a writer and blogger outside of work, so the story made sense. They wished me good luck and applauded my courage.
Some of the older folks, ones closer to retirement, said they wished they’d made the same decision at the start of their career. Now they were counting down the days until they could leave with a financial buffer and finally pursue their passion projects.
Some of the younger folks, people with young children and mortgages, said they wished me luck with the boyfriend. They reassured me that if I changed my mind, I’d always be welcome to come back. I knew what they were saying (in the most loving way): “When you realize you can’t make it on your own, don’t feel ashamed to come back.”
I always saw corporate life as the easy way out. Which is funny, because we all know it isn’t easy. It’s not easy to swim in the waters of expectation and obligation and navigate the currents of professional political intrigue. It’s not easy to juggle the weight of high-achiever workloads and still make time for your family and body and mental health. It’s not easy to detach from the feeling that you aren’t in control of your career (even though you always are).
But I grew up with a self-employed mother and a father who worked on Wall Street.
I saw my mom’s creative spirit flourish, but her self-sufficiency depended on tremendous mental toughness and incredible labor through the fickle whims of financial flow.
I saw my dad as a pillar of reassuring stability, his ability to pay for vacations and college and big beautiful homes a facet of his professional choices. I thought he was happy, but I also wondered if he made his choices not to honor his heart but to take care of me.
I landed in Virginia with a big question mark and total lack of knowing what I was in for.
Would I triumph in my creative ambitions and win the fight against the fear that came with being an entrepreneur? Or would I surrender to the weight of it all and go back to what felt reassuring and safe?
I started where I said I’d start. I sat down to write my novel.
I genuinely wanted to take on this project, but I also knew it was a glorified way to kill time.
My entrepreneurial ambitions were sniffing around the door of my heart like wolves, but I was terrified to let them in.
In those first months after I quit my job, I couldn’t even say the words “I want a business” out loud.
I wrote about 250 pages before I hit pause. I’d logged hours and word counts because I said I would. But all along the way, I felt increasingly listless, irritated with the characters, confused about the plot.
Perhaps not so surprisingly, it was a story about a girl who is unhappy in her corporate job and fantasizes (womp womp) of becoming a professional writer. She begins having dreams that feel wildly lifelike, long episodes where she wakes up in a man’s body and lives his life as an epic seafaring hero.
I knew the two of these characters were destined to meet. Both were real in their respective worlds. But I lost the line that defined them; I lacked the skills to delineate who they were and why they moved; I just couldn’t see where the story was headed.
I also knew the narrator was a stand-in for me, and I couldn’t get closure through fictional worlds.
I didn’t know where the story was headed because I couldn’t see through the fog of my own life, couldn’t make sense of the fog in the crystal ball whenever I looked to the future.
So I folded up the novel writing. I let myself feel my fear of the wolves. And because I’d closed myself off to all other options, with money and sanity running out, I forced myself to take the leap and hang out my shingle as an entrepreneur.
I built a website and online portfolio of all my writing projects and publications. I began to study small business marketing and copywriting and began introducing myself as a marketing communications consultant. I made connections within a generous business community and landed my first paying jobs.
Just like that, I was off to the races—but the real journey had just begun.
Ten years later, I look back and see a scared, hopeful woman doing everything right.
At the time, however, I felt certain I was doing everything wrong.
I was under-qualified. I was paralyzed by anxiety. I didn’t know what I was doing. I had no transferrable skills. I wasn’t cut out for this. I was pitiful and problematic and it all felt so PERSONAL. There’s no way I could take one more step, but I had no other choice but to keep going.
On top of that, I felt like my progress toward my goals was maddeningly slow. Like I was making one tragic misstep after another. I cried too much. I worked too hard. I was being a slimeball. I was being a coward.
Despite my frustrations and fears, I never let the buffeting gusts of insecurity and self-criticism blow me fully off-course.
Even when I was too scared to say what I wanted out loud, I was committed to finding my way.
Looking back, that decade seemed to pass in a heartbeat. But I remember each agonizing step. I’m so proud of myself for not giving up. I’m so proud that I rose to the invitation of life so I could truly live.
Now I’m starting another chapter. It’s once again time for me to evolve and expand into the fullness of my vision for life and career.
See, I wanted to be a coach before I knew what coaching was. I wanted to help people find their way forward in their creative and professional callings, to live in a way that was true to themselves and get paid real money to do it. I wanted to be the hero living out her adventure, even though I couldn’t see what it was.
But becoming a coach wasn’t the only thing I wanted for myself. I also wanted to be a writer and speaker. Someone who shared her ideas and words on the daily, who let the bird of her creative spirit soar.
So that’s my next step. To get into the habit. To embed this new practice and keep showing up as the person I’m called to be.
I may not reach my ultimate goals really fast, but that’s okay. I understand the process better now, and I’m focused on having fun.
I share this with you at the start of this new year because I want you to know it’s okay to take your time.
You need to grow to get where you want to go. It’s a process that unfolds one step at a time.
Even if you know exactly where you want to go, your whole self needs to come along. You’ll need pauses and pivots and personal development, and that’s actually a beautiful thing.
Because once you decide to live your vision at the speed of life, you get to enjoy the ride.
It’s really okay to be where you are. Better than okay—it’s great. Who you are in this moment is exactly the brilliant, beautiful seed of everything you will be one day and perfectly enough as you are.
I will always encourage you to lean into your dreams. To act on your hopes instead of your fears. To align with your joy instead of what other people expect of you.
I will also be showing up more frequently in your inbox, dedicating myself to this task of helping you live into your most exciting vision for your creative and professional career.
I have a lot of tactical advice—strategies, how tos, etc.—as well as tools and workshops brewing that I’ll share with you over the coming weeks and months.
But I also will have plenty of times when the message is the only tool I am providing. Like today, when I shared this story of how I got here? I share it because I know you will relate to some aspect of it, see yourself in this narrative, and draw inspiration from it for yourself.
If you’ve been on this ride with me for long enough, you pretty much know what to expect. If you’re fairly new or need a refresher, now you’ve got the gist.
One final note: Over these last ten years, I’ve learned that I love to support women on the journey of entrepreneurship. My genius as a coach helps my clients create more money and fulfillment in business. So I’ll be talking a lot about these subjects—leadership, confidence, courage, etc.—plus thoughts on business, abundance, and joyful self-expression.
If you’re one of my old school subscribers who is waiting for training on marketing and copywriting, you might not want to hang out anymore, and I totally understand. But if you’re here for the ride, I am thrilled to support you.
If you have any specific topics or questions you’d like me to address in the year ahead, feel free to reply to this email and let me know.
I’ll do my best to tackle it in an upcoming newsletter or social media post. Speaking of which, you’re welcome to hang out with me over on Instagram @elizabethderby or over on LinkedIn. Those are the two places I plan to be sharing more this year.
For now, as we greet this big beautiful year and ourselves in this very moment, I just want to say that I’m in your corner.
I know how much courage it takes to assert your desires in a world that seems crowded and closed.
I know the heroic acts you perform when you leverage your gifts to love others and change our world for the better.
I’m cheering you on. I’m all in for your joy and and living the vision that lights you up at the pace that feels good to you.
So here we go—onward and upward, my friend.
Let’s make this day and this year the best one yet.
