For most of my life, I didn’t feel like the smartest person in the room. Things didn’t come easily in school, in sports, or in life. While others could wing it, I had to prepare. I studied harder. I practiced longer. I wrote out notes and study guides. I spent hours in my driveway working on footwork for sports. I did whatever it took.
That work ethic became my edge. Early on, I learned something important about myself: I can’t always be the most naturally gifted, but I could outwork, outthink, and out-prepare. Over time, that discipline shaped how I approach everything: with intention, depth, and a deep respect for process.
I grew up around entrepreneurship. My parents built businesses their whole lives. Ironically, if you had asked me whether I’d ever start my own business, I would have laughed. “I’m too risk-averse,” I would have said. And yet, I’ve been working since I was 13: starting a pet-sitting business, bussing tables at 15, serving at a neighborhood restaurant through college. I learned early how to show up, take responsibility, and earn trust.
I attended Berry College, where I played collegiate volleyball, served as a team captain, won two conference championships, and made an NCAA Tournament run. I loved competition, but what I loved even more was preparation. Strategy. Performing under pressure. After college, I thought I wanted to coach. I took a job at a small Christian school and earned my master’s in public health, believing I wanted to work in corporate health and wellness. What I discovered instead was something far more interesting.
Public health wasn’t really about information. It was about behavior. It wasn’t about telling people what to do. It was about how you communicate it, how you motivate change, and how you help people make better decisions. It was psychology.
It was storytelling.
That realization led me to a prosthetics company, where I worked in a role that blended social work, sales, and marketing. It was one of the most formative periods of my life. I worked with patients navigating life-altering situations, physicians making critical decisions, and internal teams trying to balance empathy with growth.
I saw firsthand how clarity, empathy, and narrative could change outcomes. Not just emotionally, but practically.
Then came a moment that changed everything. At a healthcare marketing summit, someone said: “Marketing and sales are storytelling.” Something clicked.
I became obsessed with a new question: How do we tell better stories? Stories that actually help people decide?
That curiosity led me to become a StoryBrand Certified Guide. I helped rebrand the prosthetics company from the ground up: messaging, visuals, materials, video campaigns, and internal training. Shortly after, the company was acquired.
I had found the common thread. Eager to learn more, I joined a marketing agency. Starting as an account manager with a clear goal: become a strategist. Over four years, that agency was also acquired, and I moved through four roles: account manager, strategist, growth consultant, and associate director of growth.
Titles changed. The work didn’t. Listening deeply. Architecting stories. Connecting dots across marketing, sales, and operations.
In two years in a sales-focused role, I helped drive over $10M in revenue; not through hacks or gimmicks, but by helping teams see what actually mattered and execute against it. Across every role, one truth kept showing up: Companies don’t fail because they lack ideas. They fail because they lack clarity.
My dad once described me as a “harmonizer with an edge.” At the time, I didn’t fully understand what he meant, but I see it clearly now in my work. I’m naturally wired to see patterns, anticipate outcomes, and sense where misalignment is happening. Even when it’s hard to name. I can sit comfortably in complexity without panic, ask hard questions without creating defensiveness, and bring structure to situations that feel overwhelming.
I’m deeply analytical, but I don’t lose sight of the human side of leadership. I care about people, and I care just as much about building systems that actually work. I’m calm under pressure, direct without being abrasive, and willing to challenge thinking when it’s holding teams back.
This wiring is why my work tends to live at the intersection of strategy and execution. I don’t just help teams decide what to do. I help them understand why, align around it, and actually move.
For those personality test nerds out here, here’s my breakdown that has common thread:
DISC: DI — decisive, forward-moving, people-aware
Myers-Briggs: INFJ — strategic, intuitive, systems-minded
Enneagram: 8w9 — grounded, protective, steady under pressure
Culture Index: Architect — builder, connector, simplifier
I don’t lead with labels. I lead with outcomes. But these frameworks help explain why clients often describe me as both grounding and catalytic: someone who brings clarity without chaos, and momentum without burnout.
In early 2025, my husband Matt received a diagnosis that changed our lives. What doctors initially believed to be a benign tumor turned out to be bladder cancer.
One of my first thoughts surprised me:
“I need reprioritize my job and my work.”
Not because I didn’t love my work. I did. But because in that moment, the ladder I was climbing suddenly felt irrelevant. What mattered was time. Presence. Laughter. Life. Thankfully, the cancer was removed and he’s now in remission. But the question that followed stayed with me:
What if success isn’t just a paycheck or a title… but the life you’re building along the way?
That pause clarified something else, too. The work I loved most, the work where I made the fastest, clearest impact, happened with smaller teams and in consulting environments. Places where decisions could be made. Where clarity mattered. Where progress wasn’t stuck in circular conversations, jargon, or politics. After a decade in corporate environments, I knew what frustrated me:
Endless talking without action
Corporate language used to mask honest thinking
Red tape that slowed obvious progress
Artificial ceilings placed on growth
I hate being boxed in. And when I see a ceiling, I want to break it.
Freemyer Ventures exists because I wanted to build something different.
A business rooted in clarity. In honest thinking. In real execution.
Not another consultancy selling decks.
Not another agency over-engineering solutions.
Not another freelancer disconnected from the bigger picture.
But a fractional growth partner. Someone who listens deeply, simplifies complexity, aligns teams, and helps leaders move forward with confidence. This isn’t about escaping hard work. Building a business is hard. But it is about building a life intentionally, instead of having one built for you. It’s about helping leaders who feel the same frustration I did. Who know what needs to be done, but are buried under noise, misalignment, and half-built systems.
I help companies get unstuck. Not by adding more noise, but by cutting through it.
I work at the intersection of strategy and execution, partnering with founders and revenue leaders to align marketing, sales, operations, and AI into simple, executable systems.
If you’ve made it this far, thank you. I believe deeply that understanding the why matters. Because it shapes how we communicate, how we think, and how we define success on the other side of growth. If you’re tired of noise, overwhelmed by options, or frustrated by progress that feels harder than it should: you’re not alone. And you don’t need more ideas. You need clarity 🙂
