Here's the thing: I didn't expect to be a creative director at 26 years old.

I just wanted to design cool stuff, drink cherry foam cold brews, and have people think my portfolio was “clean.” That was the dream.

But somewhere along the way, things changed. One day I was designing logos. The next, I was giving feedback on someone else’s logo. Then I was managing a team, organizing Gantt charts, and "executive producing” a half a dozen client podcasts.

It was jarring.

At first, I tried to design through other people. I hovered. I nudged. I made “helpful” edits in their files without asking. Eventually, I realized this job wasn’t about being the best designer in the room. It was about developing the best designers. 

I had to learn to let go of my personal taste and focus on how my designers’ skills could be used to create something better than what I could have designed myself. And, like the vitamin D supplements we are required to ingest during the bleak Pittsburgh winters, that was a hard pill to swallow. I wanted to put my fingerprint on every project before it shipped. But that was not the job.

The job was to lead and support. To make sure the work improved project-over-project, even if I didn’t participate in every step along the way.

Now, weirdly, I love it. There’s something magical about helping a junior designer grow into their stride. Or watching a team pull off a project you barely touched, and realizing, “Oh wow, I didn’t have to do it all myself.”

Being a creative director isn’t glamorous, but it is meaningful.

And you still get to drink cherry foam cold brews.