(This 2016 image was my first speaking engagement about my experience of losing a son to drugs and suicide.)

When I thought I had finally figured out the direction I needed to go, I was hardcore spitting angry. The price tag was just too high.

Why would I have to go through the death of my son to suicide before this path was presented to me? That did not seem fair. And was I profiting off his death? This could not be it! While I had spent plenty of time on stage growing up and lots of time speaking as a business owner, I’d never done it for a living. Was that possible?

Besides, who would hire someone to speak on suicide? Addiction? Grief? Resilience? And what did I know about the topic other than lived experience? Would I be taken seriously in this space? The answer to that is not for a while.

There was so much to consider.

About two years after Charles died, I became Executive Director of a youth mental health organization where I had served on the board for a decade. In that role, I had served as the liaison between private practitioners, government caseworkers, and our board, so I understood the system and had seen plenty of real-life case studies.

Experience alone wasn’t enough. If I were going to do this work well, I needed more training.

I applied for the Pat Ash Fellowship through the YWCA.

The fellowship would provide about $17,500 to support professional development, and I poured myself into the application. After days of writing, revising and interviewing, I received the call that I had been selected.

The money certainly helped to get the training I needed. But what mattered most was what it represented. Someone believed in me. Someone saw potential in a path I was only beginning to imagine for myself.

At a time when grief had stripped away so much confidence, that vote of trust permitted me to move forward.

The idea of starting a speaking business was intimidating

I had co-owned and sold my partnership in a digital marketing firm, but a speaking business was an entirely different operation. I was 55 years old. Wasn’t that a little late to start over?

I cycled through every excuse I could find.

I questioned myself, argued with myself, and built roadblocks faster than I could remove them. Yet each time I identified an obstacle, I eventually found a way around it and it led me back to the same path.

While I was busy doubting myself, I was saying yes to small speaking opportunities

I became a certified trainer, studied best-practice guidelines, sought mentorship from experts, read books from experts, and asked for honest feedback. And oh yeah, I wrote my first book. And then a second.

Looking back, I took one step and then another, forgiving myself for not having the entire plan mapped out but knowing I was on the right path. At least for now. “Get on a path and allow it to evolve” was my thought process.

Purpose doesn’t arrive fully formed. It emerges through action, often while we’re still questioning whether we’re capable of it.