02.09.2022 | Durham, NC | 35.9940° N, 78.8986° W

Four years ago today I left my full-time position at UNC Research to start my own business.

Four years. That’s 1,461 days. It is also exactly a quarter of my adult, professional life.

When I left the comfort and security of my state employee job, I told everyone I was excited. But I was mostly stressed. I experienced a lot of self-doubt and sleepless nights. Venturing out on my own and navigating the world of full-time freelance work was daunting to say the least. Everything was a struggle: making enough money, getting enough sleep, finding enough work, exhibiting enough confidence. I lived off coffee, adrenaline, and tenacity.

Phew. Just thinking about those first few months is exhausting.

But I did it. And I’m still doing it.

I haven’t figured out everything. I have (and will always have) more to learn. But over the past four years, I have grown and evolved in ways I never could have imagined. To my pleasant surprise, becoming my own boss has been one of the most empowering and fulfilling experiences of my life.

Embrace the unknown

When I look at the person I was four years ago versus the person I am now, the biggest difference I see is my willingness to accept the unknown. Throughout my life, I have always been a fastidious planner. I want to plan out what I’m doing this week, this month, this year. As much as possible, I have always wanted to be able to peer into the future.

**Action shot**: Photographing waves generated by a hurricane in the North Pacific | July 2018

Plans fly out the window all the time now. I get invited to join an expedition, but the departure date changes three different times. The pre-expedition quarantine requirements are in constant flux. The airline loses a bag with my camera gear in it. When we’re out at sea, “the plan” can shift a dozen times in one day. Every once in a while, an entire expedition gets cancelled at the last minute.

So I’ve had to give up my obsession with planning and trying to predict the future.

I still make plans of course, but I don’t rely on them. I still fill my calendar with exciting events, but I recognize not all of them will happen (or happen the way I expect them to) especially during pandemic times. I still look forward to expeditions, but I approach them with zero expectations. Whatever happens happens. Pasa lo que pasa.

Being a full-time freelancer, especially one that specializes in expedition work, comes with a heaping dose of uncertainty and volatility. It requires a particular kind of gritty determination and resilience. From staying busy during a mandatory two-week quarantine to figuring out the best way to cope with post-expedition blues, learning to accept (and even embrace) the unpredictable nature of this work has been essential.

Find your people

Life comes at you fast when you enter the wild world of ocean expeditions. For much of the past four years, my mindset has been some version of this: Just figure it out as you go. Just keep going.

While that mentality will always be a component of my life, I no longer want it to be the dominant one. As I enter into the fifth year of being my own boss, I am incorporating more intention, focus, and clarity into what I do and how I do it.

I have to be honest with myself about what I need in my professional life: things like feedback on my work, creative input, someone (or multiple people) to chat with, brainstorm, and exchange ideas. I’ve realized that working in a solitary environment is tough for me. Like any stereotypical extrovert, I gain energy and motivation from working with other people. It’s part of the reason I function so well in expedition environments — I am around people all. the. time. And I love that. But during the periods between expeditions, when I’m at home for a few months (spending long days alone at my house) I struggle to be as productive or creative as I would like to be.

To ameliorate this problem, I’m doing a couple things: reaching out to colleagues, reading books and blogs on creativity and business (particularly pieces written by other young women who are full-time freelancers) and hiring my first intern.

Take a moment

**Figure it out:** Using cold fingers to fiddle with camera controls in Antarctica | February 2018

Mountaineers often talk about the importance of mindset. Instead of looking up at how much more mountain you have left to climb, it’s more helpful to look down and see how far you’ve already come.

I’ve spent much of the past four years gazing up at my own mental peaks, wondering when I’ll get to a point where I feel truly secure and successful.

The reality is that no matter where I go or what I do, I will always question myself. In all the conversations I’ve had with highly successful people, the same message gets repeated: imposter syndrome never really goes away. Parts of my brain will always raise questions saturated with self-doubt. But casting aspersions on myself does not help me grow my business, expand my network, or create new opportunities.

So for right now, I’m going to set aside the insecurities and take a moment to enjoy the view from here.

In the past four years, I have documented 10 oceanographic expeditions and eight scientific field work trips. My work has taken me to the bottom of South America, to a smattering of islands (Hawaii, Samoa, the Florida Keys), up and down the California coast, to the northwestern tip of Spain, the middle of the South Pacific, across the equator and the international date line, into the North Atlantic, and around the Antarctic Peninsula.

I have traveled thousands of nautical miles with hundreds of scientists, engineers, technicians, and maritime professionals from all over the world. I have produced content for the National Science Foundation, the Schmidt Ocean Institute, the Ocean Exploration Trust, NASA Earth Expeditions, the National Academy of Sciences, and the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution.

I have continued to refine my professional crafts (photography, science writing, and video production) but I have also added another skillset: public speaking. From in-person presentations (both on land and at sea) to panels to podcasts, I have given dozens of talks about what I do.

Next week I will give another talk at UNC-Chapel Hill, speaking to students about the many places my career has taken me, and encouraging them to keep an open mind when it comes time to find a job after college. You can’t predict the future, I’ll tell them. Say yes—even when it scares the crap out of you.

In March, I will travel to Portland, Oregon to give a presentation at Science Talk 22 about how to make the jump into full-time freelance work. In April, I will work with my rockstar intern to produce content for the North Carolina Science Festival. In May, I will begin my fourth season of work aboard the E/V Nautilus.

The past 1,461 days are proof: I can make a living by going on big adventures. I can work efficiently at sea. I can be a reliable and easy-going shipmate. I can maintain a balance between the fast pace of expedition life and the slower pace of life at home. I can share my experiences. I can inspire people.

Now that I’ve been doing it for four years, I can see that being a professional adventurer is not only possible — it is exactly what I should be doing.

Read Poetry

As I was reflecting on all this last week, my dear friend Annette Konoske-Graf emailed me a poem titled “It Couldn’t be Done” by Edgar Albert Guest. The final stanza felt like the ultimate mental and emotional fist bump:

There are thousands to tell you it cannot be done,
There are thousands to prophesy failure,
There are thousands to point out to you one by one,
The dangers that wait to assail you.
But just buckle in with a bit of a grin,
Just take off your coat and go to it;
Just start in to sing as you tackle the thing
That “cannot be done,” and you’ll do it.

Here’s to doing it — now and for many years to come.

A look behind the scenes

Doing It