I’m overflowing, and this is my chosen location for the spillage.

My friends are going to get sick of me if I keep boasting about why I’m absolutely beaming from these past couple of days. Therefore, I’ll share here. Still with my friends, but only if they choose to spend their time here.

They usually do. And I hope they do. But also, your choice.

This is also a great place of historical documentation for myself. I want to read about this incredible week 40 years from now when my already terrible memory will probably be nonexistent. I mean, let’s hope not, but of all the things that could happen to me…

Not me in France back in June beaming because I got to help during the D-Day ceremony. Courtesy photo.

I did this right. My entire path has led me to this coffee shop in D.C. following the second-ever, first in-person Military Veteran Convention. I was surrounded by professionals, all with the same passion for the trade as me. Trade? Profession, or calling, maybe. Whatever it is, we are journalists, or some of us aspiring journalists.

To be completely transparent (cause why not be here?), in two separate conversations with people over the last three days, I was asked about my dream job, to which I answered, “I already have it.” I giggled, knowing how corny or self-prophesizing it sounded. But I am here. I am happy at Coffee or Die. It’s the job I dreamt up since the greatest summer of my little 21-year-old self’s life at Fort Knox when I spent three months writing for the Army, getting paid, and expensing the travel. What is my dream job? I already have it.

I don’t want to boast, or jinx it by any means, but I also worked my ass off to get here, and that effort is recognized all around me. I’ve built this network of people in my life all around me so that I would never be alone. And I’m not. I had my best friend with me in Alaska, and here in D.C., I have family and friends to help me along my journey. I rely, and I reach out, and I keep in touch. I try not to expect too much or be too annoying. But ultimately, I’m overwhelming. A blessing and curse. It allows for the ones who can handle me to love me that much more, but it’s pushed people away in my life, certainly.

I’m not perfect and still have a long way to go, but I’m doing that here. I’m growing where I’ve been planted. That’s not the phrase I want to use. Wait, on second thought, it works. I wasn’t born here, and I certainly didn’t land here, but I’ve been planted here.

Over drinks, the president of the nonprofit took a moment (what felt like an eternity to me) to tell my story. I’ve had this moment happen twice in my life now. It’s incredible and I literally will never forget it.

Not the President of this organization making me a “Bay Breeze.” Photo by me.

The president said “When we got Noelle’s application, we said ‘Noelle is going to crush (or some similar action) whatever she chooses to do, and we’re just glad that she chose journalism.'”

My jaw dropped and I’m sure I turned a shade of red that I have only turned one other time.

He said out loud to the group of us military veteran journalists that when I expressed, or someone expressed for me, interest in attending the Power Reporting course at Poynter University in St. Pete, Florida, they increased the budget just so I could go. He said if Noelle wanted to go, then they were going to get me there.

Not my favorite convention I’ve ever attended. Photo by me.

Just for completing this story, the first time this Noelle-storytime happened was in San Antonio for our company’s All-Hands when our executive editor (a literal badass in the real world and military sense) stopped talking in the middle of a fancy dinner to tell whoever of our coworkers was listening just how he reacted when he got my resume and application for the fellowship by MVJ. He said he saw my experience and asked, “And she wants us?!” My fate was sealed. I was at the top of my game working here. And they were proud to have me. I blushed red, a shade of red I only turn when I go from thinking I’m somewhat invisible to finding that literal conversations were had about me.

More was said in both instances. But my memory sucks, so I just basked in the moment and told myself ‘You’re doing this right.’

I was honored as a Top 10 Military Journalist by Military Veterans in Journalism. I was brought in front of the group, handed an award, had my hand shaken and I get to tell everyone what I won.

Not a picture of my award taken in the coffee shop parking lot. Photo by me.

My heart and head are bursting with pride. These people are my people. All of them. The ones I work with, the ones who helped me along the way, and the ones at this convention. They are my people. And I am theirs. I never felt more like I belonged at event than when I was listening to panelists and industry leaders as they presented to us in the Reserve Organization of America office building in D.C. I just wanted to absorb every word, and I wanted to contribute. It was such a great and rewarding trip. And my work fully supported me representing the magazine here. They were proud of me, too.

Not me beaming as I had my picture taken before my radio interview. Courtesy photo.

My senior editor made an announcement on our company slack of my award, which prompted my executive editor to call me. He congratulated me and told me how proud he was to have me on the team. He even called me this week. I missed his call because I was being interviewed by Wreaths Across America for their iHeart radio channel. But I promptly called him back, and he told told me that he’s confident in our team because of writers like me, who he considers his frontrunner in traveling and writing these stories. Like, what! I was grinning from ear to ear and beaming with pride. To work alongside such a legend, and for him to think anything of me is beyond my wildest dreams. But Im here, and he’s a fan of me. Can you believe it? Dreams are coming true. I wish I could tell 21-year-old me, but then again I’d never want her to stop grinding because with out her and all that came her way, I wouldn’t be where I’m at at 32.

‘Keep earning this’ is all I keep telling myself. Keep proving yourself. This dream can only get better. Don’t get comfortable and keep climbing.

Thank you for coming to my blog to read about, (what else?), me. If you’re here, you’ve been a part of my journey and I appreciate you. Keep coming back.