Sometimes the Thing You’re Building Ends Up Building You

There are moments in life where you think you need to have the next five years planned out. Then there are moments where you’re simply trying to make it through the next week.

Early 2024 was one of those moments for me.

Getting laid off felt like a punch in the gut. It wasn’t just about losing a job. My husband and I were in the middle of buying a house, and suddenly I wasn’t even sure if that dream was going to happen.

Professionally, I’d spent years building a career I was proud of.

Personally, I was exhausted. More than exhausted, really. I was hurt. The thought of jumping straight back into another in-house role and risking burnout didn’t sit right with me.

I was terrified of what 2024 was going to look like. I’d just lost my job, we were buying a house, and I had no idea whether freelancing would become a business or simply a bridge to whatever came next. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t have a plan; and that was incredibly uncomfortable.

I didn’t know what I wanted next. I just knew I needed something different.

Looking back, I don’t think I started pocket nibbles consulting because I had a master plan. I started it because I needed somewhere to stand while I figured out what came next.

Freelancing wasn’t “the dream.” It was permission to breathe. And for a while, breathing was what I needed. It gave me the space to ask myself questions I’d never really had time to ask before.

• What kind of work actually gives me energy?
• What do I want the second half of my career to look like?
• Do I even want to work full time anymore?

I didn’t have the answers.

So I decided to stop trying to figure everything out and simply take the next step.

One of those steps was applying to speak at MOps-Apalooza 2024. I did not expect to get accepted. But I did.

At the time, I couldn’t afford my own hotel room for the conference. A mentor and dear friend, Courtney, opened hers to me without hesitation.

It was one of many reminders over the past few years that communities aren’t built through grand gestures.

They’re built through small acts of generosity: a spare bed, an introduction, a conversation.

Someone believing in you before you fully believe in yourself. And that is one of the things I will never forget.

At MOps-Apalooza in November 2024, I shared the stage with three incredible women (Courtny, Kelly Jo and Zoe). Rather than a traditional panel discussion, we created something called Roll the Dice, an interactive game, complete with audience participation and prizes.

We threw giant inflatable dice around the room, mixed games with audience participation, and bribed people with French wine, vintage Blockbuster swag, LEGO, and British biscuits.

Within minutes, everyone forgot they were sitting in a conference session.

People laughed, like really laughed. Apparently loud enough that Mike Rizzo wandered over afterwards to see what was happening.

After the session we chatted, and I remember saying,

“That was so much fun. We should do it again… but in Europe.”

He smiled.

“Find the people,” he said. “I’ll bring the conference.”

Challenge accepted.

I don’t think either of us realized what we’d silently agreed to.

Not because organizing a conference is difficult—although it certainly is. But because this was never really about building a conference. It was about bringing people together.

For years, I’d watched incredible Marketing Operations professionals across Europe doing amazing work, often feeling like they were on the outside looking in. Many couldn’t justify the cost or the time to travel to the US. Others had never met another Marketing Ops professional in person.

I wanted Europe to have what I’d just experienced.

Not because Anaheim needed copying.

But because everyone deserves a place where they feel like they belong.

Something designed for us. Something intentionally smaller. Something where conversations mattered more than crowds. Something where people could arrive alone and leave with friends.

At the time, though, it was just an idea, an exciting one at that, and a terrifying one.

If there’s one thing these last two years have taught me, it’s that meaningful things rarely arrive fully formed.

You try. You learn. You adjust. You keep walking.

During that time, I kept consulting through pocket nibbles consulting, working with clients on problems I genuinely enjoyed solving.

But something kept pulling at me. It wasn’t the consulting itself. It was the people.

The conversations after our European chapter meetups. The messages from people saying they’d finally found others who understood their world. The excitement every time we announced another virtual session. The feeling of watching a community slowly grow.

Along the way, I experimented with other things too.

I mentored a few wonderful women navigating career transitions of their own. One mentorship in particular has become something incredibly special. I discovered that I loved helping people think differently about their careers—but I also realized that what truly lit me up wasn’t having all the answers.

It was creating spaces where people could find their own. That realization surprised me.

I also didn’t get here alone. If this story has taught me anything, it’s that nobody builds something meaningful alone.

Courtney reminded me what generosity looks like.

My learning partner, Tania, who I met through the Ceiling Breakers program, was there through every hard conversation as I rebuilt my confidence after being laid off.

My mom, who’s been self-employed her entire career, quietly reminded me that uncertainty isn’t failure—it’s often just part of building something worthwhile.

And as MOPZA27 Europe Summit started taking real shape, that same spirit of generosity showed up again—this time from Mike and Audrey, who have supported this idea from a late-night conversation all the way to a signed venue contract. Their belief in this event, and in me, made the difference between an idea and something real. I’m endlessly grateful for that.

And then there was the European Marketing Ops community. Every virtual meetup. Every message. Every volunteer. Every person who has said, “How can I help?” I see you. I promise I’ll let you know when it’s time.

You probably don’t realize how much these moments mattered.

There were days when conference planning felt overwhelming. Days when budgets, venues, sponsors and logistics seemed endless.

Then someone would send a message saying,

“I’m so happy Europe is finally getting this.”

Or,

“I’ve always wanted something like this closer to home.”

Or simply,

“How can I help?”

These messages have carried me further than you’ll ever know.

Last year, I wanted to give a little bit of that generosity back. It felt important to become the person someone else had been for me.

Someone had once helped me attend MOps-Apalooza.

So through pocket nibbles consulting, I sponsored two Europeans to attend MOps-Apalooza 2025.

It felt like closing a small circle: receiving help and then becoming someone who could offer it.

Funny how life works like that.

Somewhere along the way, this project stopped being about proving I could organize a conference. It became about creating the kind of experience I wished Europe had years ago. The kind where coffee breaks are long enough to become friendships. Where workshops are collaborative instead of transactional. Where the conversations between sessions are just as valuable as the sessions themselves. Where community comes before content.

A few weeks ago, I stood in front of a room at the London Marketo User Group and shared the vision publicly for the first time.

I asked everyone a simple question:

“How many of you have always wanted to attend MOps-Apalooza but couldn’t because of distance or budget?”

Hands went up across the room. That was the moment it stopped feeling like our idea. It became something the community wanted too.

We’re now only days away from opening ticket sales.

In many ways, it feels like we’re finally reaching the starting line.

The funny thing is, I still don’t know exactly where this journey goes after Barcelona.

I don’t know whether I’ll spend more time building communities. Or mentoring. Or consulting. Or something I haven’t even imagined yet.

And for the first time in my career… I’m okay with not knowing.

Two and a half years ago, I thought I needed to have all the answers before taking the next step.

Now I know something different.

Sometimes you only discover the path by walking it.

And sometimes, the thing you’re building ends up building you.