I’m Back! And This Time, I’m Following My Heart

There are seasons in life where you don’t recognize yourself anymore. You’re still showing up, still doing what needs to be done, still moving forward. From the outside, it looks like everything is intact. But internally, something has gone quiet. The part of you that feels connected, energized, and clear about who you are and why you’re doing what you’re doing starts to fade into the background. That’s where I’ve been.

After the startup I was working for shut down, I stepped into completely unfamiliar territory. After decades in this industry, I had never been unemployed before. I found myself doing something I had advised so many others on, but had never personally experienced at this level. I applied for hundreds of jobs. Not dozens. Hundreds. And for months, there was almost nothing in return. Very few interviews, even fewer meaningful conversations, and a whole lot of silence that started to chip away at my confidence.

My last three roles had been at the Vice President level. I had spent years building experience, leading teams, and delivering results that I was proud of. What I thought would position me well in the market became a barrier instead. I was too senior, too experienced, overqualified for many of the roles I was pursuing. It was a strange and humbling realization that the very things I had worked so hard to achieve were now limiting my options.

After 11 months, I finally received two offers. One offered stability and financial security. It was the kind of role that would allow me to support my family, which as the primary breadwinner, was not optional. The other opportunity was something entirely different. It was centered around creating access into aviation, building pathways for people who might never have considered this industry, and developing the next generation of talent. It was about opening doors and expanding who gets to be part of aviation and aerospace, and ultimately, who gets to lead in it.

That role spoke to my soul in a way that is hard to describe. It aligned with everything I believe about this industry and the work I feel called to do. And still, I didn’t take it.

At that point in my life, I didn’t believe I had the luxury of following my heart. The weight of responsibility felt too heavy, and the risks felt too real. So I made the choice that made sense on paper. I chose security. I chose stability. I chose what I thought I had to do.

Almost simultaneously, my personal life shifted in a way I never could have anticipated. My mom became very ill. For over two months, my father and sister would not tell my brother and me what was happening. We didn’t know where she was. We didn’t know how serious it was. We were completely shut out of the situation. When we were finally told, it was because she was being taken off a ventilator and we were told she would not survive.

But she did.

And from that moment forward, my life became very defined, very structured, and very heavy. I worked all week, learning a new role, showing up the way I needed to professionally. Then every Friday afternoon, I would get in my car and drive two hours to her care facility. I stayed with her through the weekend, and every Sunday afternoon, I made the drive back home to prepare for the week ahead. That became my routine, my rhythm, my entire life.

There wasn’t space for much else. Not for reflection, not for creativity, and certainly not for purpose-driven work outside of what was immediately in front of me. I wasn’t building anything. I wasn’t creating anything. I wasn’t thinking about what I wanted next. I was doing what needed to be done. I was surviving. I was existing.

And somewhere in all of that, I lost connection with the part of me that has always been so clear about why I chose this industry and why I have stayed in it for nearly four decades.

Last week, something shifted.

As a Board Member of Women in Aviation International, I attended the annual conference in Dallas. I didn’t realize how much I needed that experience until I was there. Being surrounded by people who care deeply about this industry, who are actively working to shape its future, and who believe in expanding access and opportunity was exactly what I didn’t know I had been missing.

It wasn’t one moment or one conversation. It was something quieter, but just as powerful. A gradual reconnection. A recognition of myself in that environment again. A reminder of what it feels like to be fully aligned with the work you’re doing.

I remembered why I fell in love with aviation and aerospace in the first place. I remembered what it feels like to care deeply about who gets to be in the room, who gets to advance, and who gets to lead. And I realized that while the job I chose serves an important purpose in my life, it is just that. It is a job.

The work that speaks to my soul has never changed.

It’s the work of building access into this industry. It’s the work of creating pathways for women and others who have historically been underrepresented. It’s helping women navigate environments that were never designed with them in mind and supporting them in building careers where they don’t have to sacrifice who they are to succeed.

For a while, I stepped away from that work. Not because it stopped mattering, but because life demanded everything I had. I had started writing about re-entering the corporate workforce after decades in startups, and while that experience is real and valuable, it wasn’t what fuels me. It wasn’t what I am here to do.

This is.

Somewhere over the course of that conference, I made a decision. I may not have felt like I had a choice months ago. I may have needed to prioritize stability and responsibility in that moment. But that does not mean I have to stay disconnected from my purpose.

I can come back to it.

And I am.

I am back to following my heart. Back to the work that challenges me, fulfills me, and feels deeply aligned with who I am. Back to supporting women in aviation and aerospace in a way that is honest, real, and grounded in lived experience.

If you have found yourself in a season where survival has taken priority over purpose, I understand that in a way I never have before. There are times when you do what you have to do. But that doesn’t mean you’ve lost your path.

You can return to it.
You can reconnect with what matters.
You can choose it again.
That’s what I’m doing now.
And if you’re here, reading this, you’re part of what comes next.

— Dana