By Gabrielle Holleran
I’m a lifelong Pittsburgher, wife of 20 years, mom of two, and a natural-born designer. As a kid, I spent hours completely absorbed in drawing, painting, and crafting. No deadlines. No audience. Just the drive to create. That same instinct later shaped a career that helped support my family, taught me a lot about people, and gave me an outlet for purpose and creativity.
This is a retrospective of the past two decades, a little advice to my younger self, and a reflection on how I kept coming back to design, even when it didn’t make space for me easily.
Start where you are.
I started college as an undecided major at Carlow University, thinking maybe I’d go into early childhood education. After a semester in the campus daycare, comforting sick toddlers with no lunch money, I realized I wasn’t cut out for that kind of heartbreak.
I came across a brochure from the art department that described a program that blended fine art, independent study, and a year at the Art Institute of Pittsburgh learning typography and graphic design. This concept lit up my creative brain. I still didn’t know what kerning was, but I had grit and creativity, and I was ready to fight through every challenge that came my way, including experimenting with oil paints in the carpeted living room of our little city apartment, just a T ride away from the Art Institute.
Through a summer temp job typing mortgage commitments, I had a coworker who knew someone at a design agency. I landed an interview, and a resulting internship under an art director who became my mentor and lifelong champion. I used QuarkXPress, Illustrator, and Photoshop, built client meeting comps, and started the process of learning how to wrangle Microsoft Word into doing things it was never intended to do. I was thrilled to be part of the team.
When I graduated in 2004, the agency offered me an entry-level job for less than the going rate. There was no negotiation. Take it or leave it. I took it. Because even then, I knew that the experience, mentorship, and momentum were worth more in the long run.
That was the first of many moments in my career when I realized I could be deeply valued by my team, yet still strategically overlooked by leadership. I was young, soft-spoken, and eager to stay with a group of creatives who believed in me. That made it easy for someone in power to see me as reliable, but not fully worthy of investment. I did the work and showed up with heart.
You can step away and still come back.
I moved on from the design agency to a new role at a PR firm. Four years post-graduation, I left work to have my first baby. I didn’t have a plan for what to do next, I just knew I wanted to be fully present for that season of life. What I didn’t expect was the wave of postpartum depression that followed. A chemical fog of exhaustion, isolation, and the absence of a creative outlet.
My husband was supportive and kind, but I struggled. I was 25, young by today’s standards, and the transition was hard. I picked up a few freelance projects here and there, but it was stressful trying to balance it all. When we had our second baby, I recognized the signs of depression more quickly and got help. Still, I declined most projects. I didn’t have anything left to give to design. Everything I had, I gave to the babies.
Occasionally, I’d feel a wave of panic. How will I ever get back? But I buried it under diaper duty and My Little Pony singalongs. I didn’t transition to InDesign. I didn’t nurture professional relationships. I mothered with all my heart.
We lived lean, but the trade-off was worth it to both of us. When the Great Recession hit, my husband lost his well-paying job, and we got creative about how to make ends meet. Over time, he fought his way into a new chapter of his career, and we slowly found our footing again. Eventually, my kids started school, and then came the call. My old mentor, now at a new agency, invited me to come back in a freelance role.
I was rusty. Adobe had changed. Quark was gone. I felt slow. But the creative spark was still there. It had just been sleeping. With practice and patience from the people around me, I acclimated. I came back.
I stayed for over a year, until the company was bought out. Suddenly, the flexible-schedule moms were no longer a cultural fit. We were let go. I was resentful, but still grateful for the opportunity to step back into the profession in a place where I was believed in. I had made the most of the chance I was given.
Freelance isn’t for the faint of heart.
For the next several years, I freelanced. It was chaotic, but it fit our family. I worked while the kids were in school, after bedtime, and on weekends. I said yes to every project and figured it out later. I never quite nailed estimating, but I got really good at billing. I met with clients over coffee and on Zoom. I financed a MacBook and kept going.
One client changed everything in a way I could never predict. A corporate account introduced me to the world of infographics. I didn’t understand most of the vocabulary like digital modernization or change management, but I had an eye for structure and precision.
Freelance gave me freedom, but it was also a grind. No sick days. No backup. Just me, trying to keep momentum going while managing life and my own bouts of anxiety.
By the end of 2022, I wanted something steadier. I wanted to be part of a team again. I wanted to stop feeling like I had to hustle just to stay visible.
The right fit, until it wasn’t.
I overhauled my portfolio, a curated PDF of projects from agency and freelance life. I applied for everything from publishing design to art direction. I had a new path. I had a lot of interviews.
My infographic work caught the attention of a large consulting firm. They offered me an on-call corporate design role. I accepted. It was the perfect blend of steady work as part of a team without the full-time commitment. I wanted to stay there a long time.
The work itself was a perfect fit. I loved diving into the new world of proposal development, document formatting, and data visualization. What I didn’t expect was how much it would shake my confidence.
In freelance, I was trusted. In corporate? Everything I did was questioned. I kept my head down. Trouble. I spoke up. Trouble. After nearly two years of trying to navigate it, I was let go.
I was crushed. I had poured everything into that role. Just like in the early days, I felt the disconnect between the team who valued my work and the leadership who didn’t see me as a unique, nuanced, and talented designer. To them, I was someone filling a role, not someone shaping it. The harder I worked, the harder time they gave me. I left with sharper skills, experience in a new design niche, and a crash course in office politics. I learned to navigate Teams, SharePoint, and Outlook. I learned how to bounce back.
When it feels like the door is shut, try the window.
After I was let go from my first corporate gig, I went on to teach design at Community College, gave a few professional talks, and took on a new and wonderful, large system healthcare client. I earned a hardwon UX certification from Cornell. I took a course in how to integrate AI tools into my design workflow. I built my online portfolio, even though I still hate web work. I rewrote and reformatted my résumé to stand a chance against recruitment bots. I sent over 600 resumes, each hand-in-hand with a custom cover letter.
I felt hopeless. I had experience, talent, communication skills, and still nothing. I can only guess my lack of response was due to the rise of remote work and a saturated market of global competition. This new hunt felt impossible. And if I’m being honest, maybe my small voice and the impression it gives off didn’t help. People often assume I’m younger or less experienced than I am. Even now, someone calls and asks, “Is your mom home?”
Nope. I am the mom. I’m the designer. I’m the one steering the ship.
Still, we got by. I kept freelancing while my husband recovered from two hip replacements. We had what we needed. And eventually, like so many other times, something came through.
A former colleague remembered working with me on proposals. She remembered my communication, my follow-through, and my willingness to get the job done. She recommended me. I interviewed. I got the job.
This time, I felt it. I earned this. Every early morning, every late night, every stubborn battle with Word, every deck, every moment of self-doubt brought me here.
You’re allowed to grow into your confidence.
Now, I’m in a role where I contribute to the growth and potential of my company in a meaningful way. Thanks to a strong recommendation from a former colleague, I believe leadership sees me as more than someone filling a role. I am seen as a designer whose specific strengths contribute to the company’s success. I am heard. I am effective. My kids are in high school. My husband’s mobile again. I still keep in touch with the mentor who gave me my first… and second shot. And my voice, though still soft, now carries the confidence of my experience and the growth of my journey.
Could I have ever imagined the winding journey my work would take me through? Not remotely. Has it given me purpose, taught me about people, and shaped a surprising confidence? Absolutely. Am I done learning? Not even close.
And to my younger self, the one who felt like she had to prove it twice just to be seen as someone who brings real value: you were right, and you did it anyway.
And you still are, every single day.
