I'm a thinker by nature, constantly pondering life's mysteries—even during the most mundane moments. Curiosity, empathy, and creativity are woven into my DNA, shaping my affinity for design. I've explored numerous paths—writing, animation, comedy, engineering—before embracing my true calling as a product designer.

Truth be told, I don't boast a fancy degree or Silicon Valley connections. College wasn't an option due to financial constraints, so I followed my instincts, took my very first plane ride, and landed in San Francisco in 2011, fresh out of high school. With just two suitcases, no money, and no plan, I took a leap of faith into the unknown. My journey led me to odd jobs until I stumbled upon a mysterious Craigslist posting, which turned out to be my entry point into Uber.

I started at $14 an hour in driver operations at a tiny office in Portrero Hill, San Francisco. The pay was so low that I practically lived on Kind bars and catered dinners at HQ, earning what they jokingly called the "Uber-10." Despite the meager paycheck, it gave me a taste of the tech world's allure. Coming from a humble background, with a single disabled mom and financial struggles, I realized I couldn't return to that life after glimpsing the possibilities through hard work.

In 2016, I dove into design, teaching myself the ropes while picking up insights from jobs, peers, and generous mentors who responded to my LinkedIn messages. My UI skills were abysmal at first, and my early portfolio probably elicited a few chuckles from hiring managers. Yet, amidst hundreds of rejections, one employer saw something in me and took a chance. I realized that by embracing the process and leveraging my natural problem-solving abilities, I could overcome my UI shortcomings. Eight years later, here I am, grateful for the journey that came from taking the plunge into the unknown, and continuing forward despire imposter syndrome knocking daily at my door.

In November 2021, after an 18-month medical journey, I was diagnosed with ADHD, a discovery prompted by the challenges of the pandemic in 2020. Being confined for a year stripped away excuses for procrastination, forgetfulness, and confusion, forcing me to confront internal struggles. Embracing my ADHD diagnosis openly, I've found it strengthens me as a designer in unexpected ways, though there was a moment when hurtful words almost led me to quit

Before my ADHD diagnosis, I confided in my interim manager, expressing confusion and fear over my declining cognitive abilities. I shared openly about my health concerns, even jokingly fearing a brain tumor. However, upon the arrival of our new design manager, I faced a harsh reality in a one-on-one meeting on her first official day: I was being let go. She bluntly stated I wasn't cut out for design and suggested I pursue a different path.
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For a while, I nearly succumbed to self-doubt, feeling inadequate and haunted by the absence of formal degrees. My ADHD diagnosis shed light on my struggles, helping me grasp the missed opportunities and relationships tainted by silent cognitive challenges. Though her words lingered, my journey empowered me to reclaim my confidence and press forward—a pretty cool feat, if you ask me.

I chose design, and looking back on it all, design chose me back.