“Why am I here?”

I sobbed to myself. It must have looked like a bad breakup—a girl walking home in a blush A-line dress, carrying a melting pint of Baskin Robbins ice cream.

I had only been in New York City for two months at that point. I moved from Guam, a tiny island in the Pacific where I was born and raised. Even with all of my budgeting, I had less than a month’s rent in the bank. My boyfriend-now-husband Dave was struggling to find work. All I could afford for his birthday was this pint of Baskin Robbin’s ice cream with a single candle planted at the center. The heat of my hands and the sticky summer day threatened to take even that away.

The night air was hot and sticky, a typical summer night in Guam. But the situation indoors was even more suffocating. 

“If you walk out that door, you are no longer my daughter.” With those parting words from my dad, I shut the door behind me. I had a duffel bag stuffed with three days’ worth of mismatched outfits. In the fury, I didn’t have time to grab my passport and birth certificate. I made a mental note to deal with that later. Right now, I needed a ride and a place to sleep.

I was 19 when I left home. By that point, My parents and I had spent years arguing over everything. They couldn’t understand why their daughter seemed to be two different people. On the one hand, she got straight A’s, graduated valedictorian, never got in trouble in school and was on her way to becoming a doctor. On the other hand, she broke curfew, snuck out of the house, and disobeyed her parents.

I couldn’t understand why my parents were so overprotective and strict. “My house, my rules,” they’d chorus. So I left the house. It was the first, but not the last, time I chose to trust myself. 

After bouncing around for a few nights, I ended up at Dave’s house. He had a modern, blended family who squeezed into a simple home full of warmth and love. His aunt Rosita and her wife Jacque took me in. “Those are the only clothes you have?” they asked. I nodded. “Let’s get dinner and stop by the mall.”

The last few weeks of that summer were crammed with bold moves and quick decisions. I applied for a new passport, filed for a copy of my birth certificate, and unenrolled from the University of Portland, which I could not afford without financial help from my parents. I enrolled as a biology major on the pre-med track at the University of Guam, still determined to become a doctor without my parents’ help.

The first semester of my sophomore year was a wake-up call. I dragged myself to anatomy and biology, dreading every second and scraping by with my first-ever “C.” 

One night, Auntie Jacque, Sita and I were watching a movie at home — the three of us squished into a queen-sized bed tucked into the corner of an 8 x 8 bedroom. I can’t remember the conversation that led us to this topic, but I vividly remember the part that would change my life forever.

“Alright, but just remember that you only have one life to live. And you can be anything you want to be,” Sita said. “I know,” I replied. But that was the first time anyone had ever said that to me. From then on, I looked at my life differently. I wouldn’t get a second chance. I already risked so much by walking out of my parents’ lives. I needed to go all-in on myself. 

When I realized that the only homework I got excited about was for a writing course, I made the biggest bet I had ever made up to that point. I switched my major from biology to communications, abandoning a childhood dream more than ten years in the making.

From there, magic unfolded…

I signed up for a course taught by the editor-in-chief of the biggest newspaper on the island, the Pacific Daily News. I knew I had to excel in that course so she would give me a shot at an internship. I turned that internship into one of three paid gigs that got me through college. Every move felt natural, not forced.

So when, in 2014, I found myself on a one-way flight to New York City, it felt like destiny. Yet there I was, two months in, sobbing on the sidewalk and second-guessing every move I made up to that point. 

You know what they say about the darkest hour. Well, the dawn came a few weeks later. The PR agency I worked for offered me a full-time job as an Assistant Account Executive. The salary was still not enough to sign a lease on a studio apartment, but hey, it was a steady flow of income. I was thankful.

Over the course of the next year, I picked up corporate fundamentals — be proactive, volunteer for assignments, and look for ways to make your boss’s job easier. Being resourceful paid off when I reached out cold to the hiring manager of a marketing solutions coordinator role at the Brooklyn Nets. It was June 2015, a year since I moved to New York.

“We’re in the late stages of the process,” she said. “But let’s set up an interview.” 

She gave me my first break in sports. The role was demanding — a vital but thankless job supporting the sponsorship sellers. 

And then one of them changed the course of my career with a two-minute conversation. We were both at the office late one night, and he said, “Hey, I really appreciate all of the work you put in.” I thanked him for the recognition. “I just want you to know, my girlfriend has a very similar job as yours at a very similar company, and she makes this much money. I hope they’re paying you at least that much.” One, they weren’t. It was about $30,000 off the mark. And two, I didn’t believe him.

So I started putting out applications. I remember how hard it was to spit out that number when the recruiter asked for my salary range. I mumbled, jumbled and choked before I could finally say it. The recruiter reassuringly replied,  “Yup, that’s right within our range.” That validated it — I was underpaid.

As angry as I was, I still needed to wait for the right opportunity. A few months later, I accepted a role as Director of Sponsorship Operations at Twitch. Even though I didn’t know a lot about video games or esports at that point, I saw huge potential in the industry. I trusted that feeling.

Twitch is where I cultivated a growth mindset. The job knocked me down a few levels. I knew nothing about esports and gaming, but I knew that if I didn’t ask the “dumb questions,” I would never learn. The job taught me to put my insecurities aside for the sake of growth. It worked. And it gave me the confidence of knowing that I can start from ground zero and learn about a whole new industry. It’ll take a while, but I can get there.

A year and a half into Twitch, COVID-19 struck the world. All around me, I saw friends, mentors, and colleagues getting furloughed or losing their jobs. I started to ask myself, “If I lost my job tomorrow, would I still know who I am?”

The answer was no.

I spent the last nine years grinding toward my goals. If someone were to say, “Tell me about yourself,” I would jump into a summary of my resume. There has to be more to me than that, I thought. I just had to find it.

My New Year’s Resolution for 2021 was to find my purpose. As I thought about all of my experiences — from leaving home to realizing I was underpaid to gunning for promotions at all of these different companies — I realized I offered a unique perspective as a young, Asian American woman. 

The problem with the question “Tell me about yourself” is that it pushes you toward a highlight reel instead of the full, authentic truth.

Finally, I thought. I had a clear personal mission and a good rhythm going at work. I could find balance. 

Then, life threw a curveball. A recruiter from the NBA reached out to me about an opportunity to be the Vice President of Global Partnerships for Spurs Sports and Entertainment. This would be a new type of challenge. Did I have it in me to lead a team instead of just being a really good individual player? Did I want to move to San Antonio? Do I really have enough experience to do this? 

With the help of five very important women — two friends, two mentors and my mom — I accepted the role. 

The last few months have been a whirlwind of moving from San Francisco to San Antonio, trying to pursue my personal mission, and onboarding to the biggest job I’ve ever had. I have been stressed, overwhelmed, fulfilled, excited and giddy. Sometimes all in the same afternoon.

Monday through Friday, I get to work with brands to tell their stories through purpose-driven partnerships. On the weekends, I get to share my career experiences with you.

I don’t have it all figured out, but by sharing my personal experiences, I hope you will be inspired to stop apologizing for being who you are and start doing what makes you happy. If you want to join me on the journey, follow me on Instagram at @katrinapalanca or sign up for my Sunday letter below.