An Update From Me
I’ve been quieter here than usual and a lot of you have noticed. Over the past few months, I’ve gotten messages checking in, asking how I’m doing, asking how Gray for Glioblastoma is doing, and I just want to say: thank you. Truly. Every time someone reaches out, I’m reminded why this community exists in the first place. It’s more than an organization. It’s people caring. It’s people remembering. It’s people showing up.
Many of you may not know this, but Gray for Glioblastoma isn’t my full-time job. It’s something I run on top of my “career” and is my passion project. It is something I have done on the side since day one of the organization being founded, I started GFG when I was a full time student while having part time jobs, so having it be my “5-9 after my 9-5” is not something new. And the reason for that isn’t because I don’t want to commit to it full-time. It’s actually the opposite. I’ve always believed that donations to GFG should go as far as possible. Glioblastoma is one of the most underfunded and urgent cancers to solve, and I want every dollar raised to directly support research, not to support a salary for me. At least not right now, not in this chapter. That’s a choice I’ve made intentionally, even though it comes with its own challenges.
The truth is that the last few months have been a lot. My full-time job’s annual event is every October, and anyone in the events world knows what that means: the months leading up to it are intense. There are deadlines stacked on top of deadlines, and the work never seems to have a bottom. During that time, I was also still trying to run Gray for Glioblastoma, answer messages, plan future programming, stay connected, keep the heart of it moving. And beyond my 9–5 and GFG, I’m also just a person trying to keep up with life. I’m managing my own relationships, friendships, and family. I’m “raising” my very adorable, very energetic year-and-a-half-old dog, Finnegan (who, let’s be honest, is his own full-time job). I’m trying to show up for the people I love, to build my network, to take care of my health. The end of summer into October was a whirlwind and there were days when I was tired before I even opened my laptop. I felt like I was pouring from a cup that was slowly leaking at the bottom.
Because the reality is: running GFG alongside life is SO meaningful, but it’s also heavy.
This organization has been a form of healing for me since day 1. Building something meaningful out of loss has helped me cope with my own grief. But sometimes I forget that GFG is heavy. It lives in the same space as the hardest moments of my life. I’m regularly talking with families who are grieving, receiving messages from people who are newly navigating a diagnosis, or trying to console someone who just lost the person they love most. I want to show up strong and steady always, but it means I’m constantly holding my own grief at the same time. It takes emotional energy that isn’t always visible, even to me. And this year, with so much change in my own life from entering this new “post-grad” chapter, navigating uncertainty, and growing in ways I would have leaned on my dad for I found myself moving through new layers of grief I didn’t expect.
Another layer of this, if I’m being honest, is that the space we’re working in is small. There are only so many organizations focused on glioblastoma and only so many people doing this work publicly. And sometimes it feels like every idea I develop, from our merchandise to the events we create, the sponsors and partners we carefully curate, and the donor relationships we work hard to build and maintain, is quickly and consistently mirrored elsewhere. I believe that everyone’s intention is to raise awareness and support families, and I deeply believe there is room for all of us. But it can still feel so vulnerable and draining to pour your heart into something, to create from a place of personal loss, and then watch it be replicated. There have been moments, especially recently, where it has genuinely set me back. When something I’ve created from such a personal place is mirrored elsewhere, it can feel like the air gets knocked out of me. It’s upsetting and, honestly, quite heartbreaking. It drains energy that is already stretched thin. And it gives me pause because when work born from grief is so quickly replicated, it makes me question how much of myself I can safely pour into the next idea.
When I started GFG, I learned quickly that if we were going to help people feel less alone, I had to be willing to be real, to share my own story, my own grief, my own journey in real time. So thank you for letting me be raw here. For letting me show up as a person, not just the founder. I’m really excited to share what’s coming next for GFG… there is so much good on the way.
I just moved to New York City, the ultimate city for connection, to fulfill a new role and to start a new chapter. I am already feeling grounded and settled here and my cup is quickly refilling, fueling me with ideas for growth for GFG. I’m excited again. Ideas are flowing again. I’m really looking forward to seeing how Gray for Glioblastoma grows now that I’m here, surrounded by so many people who believe in building things that matter. If you’re in NYC too, I would truly love to meet you. Let’s connection over a coffee, take Finnegan for a walk, or plan a community event together. I’m ready to build, thoughtfully and with purpose.
-Kate, founder & director, Gray for Glioblastoma
