We’re excited to introduce you to the always interesting and insightful Katherine Norland. We hope you’ll enjoy our conversation with Katherine below.
Katherine, looking forward to hearing all of your stories today. What’s the kindest thing anyone has ever done for you?
I was an insecure, timid aspiring actress. I had recently packed up my chevy with everything of value and driven to Los Angeles to pursue my dreams as an actor. I didn’t have faith that I had what it took to make that dream a reality. I was so shy, I couldn’t even order a pizza over the telephone. I was the fearful type, wanting to avoid rejection and confrontation—so much so that if I noticed that the dry cleaner missed some spots on my dress, I’d send my mom to the cleaners for me because I was too afraid that they would argue with me or tell me no if I asked them to re-clean it. But here I was in Hollywood trying to make this impossible dream happen.
Some years earlier in Minnesota, I’d had an extremely painful, humiliating experience, which I write about in my You Are Worthy book, where I had to stand up in front of an acting class I’d never even been to before and emote sadness, without using words. I ended up breaking down and crying uncontrollably—no “acting” involved—simply by thinking about what it felt like just to look in the mirror. Out of nowhere, all of a sudden everyone knew now that my happy, smiling face was fake. It was a mask that helped me cover up the truth, a mask I’d been wearing for years to convince anyone who asked how I was that “I’m fine, everything’s great,” even though I felt like I was dying inside. Although the exercise eventually helped me skill development as an actor, it was a “tipping point” of self-exposure I hadn’t reached until that day, and I worked hard to hide well and make sure nothing revealing like that ever happened again.
Now I was in Hollywood, almost 2000 miles from home. On one occasion, at an entertainment industry networking event at a swanky hotel, I dressed the part of an ingenue. I had on my smiling, confident, happy mask as I floated around the room and tried to make contacts that might lead to acting roles. I met a man named Marshall Ferguson, who, after only a couple of moments of exchanging small talk and pleasantries, stared me in the eyes and asked me, “Why do you hate yourself so much?”
That question shook me to my core. This man, a Hollywood talent manager, looked into my eyes and was able to see my soul and know something no one else knew. I had almost given up on myself before I even got started.
No one else knew that I hated myself and couldn’t even stand to look in the mirror. Yet this stranger, a Hollywood talent manager, somehow knew my secret—one I hadn’t repeated since that painful day in the acting class years before. I don’t know how many hours we talked that day and the days that followed, but God sent him into my life to be the mentor I needed to begin the process of shaking me out of my low self-worth issues.
Marshall didn’t know me and didn’t owe me, but he spent months, which turned into years, being my biggest cheerleader and support system. In those first months, I met with him nearly every single day. He taught me about my worth and my value. He gave me difficult assignments to do to shake me out of my self-worth issues and teach me “You Are Worthy.” He would sit with me for hours and pour over the poems I had written (that I’d never shared with anyone) and encourage me that my gifts and talents were worth sharing and that others needed to hear what I had to say. Without him, I never would have published the three poetry books, and probably would have given up on myself and my dreams years ago.
That was the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me. And I wouldn’t be who I am or have the confidence I have if he had not been there for me.
Great, appreciate you sharing that with us. Before we ask you to share more of your insights, can you take a moment to introduce yourself and how you got to where you are today to our readers
I’m an award-winning actress, as seen on FOX, BET, AMC, HGTV, Oxygen, Prime Video, TLC, Roku, E! News, TBN and More. I’m most recognized for my series regular role on the hit YouTube show Dhar Mann, whose content has garnered over 40 billion views. I’m a best-selling author with five books; a life coach; a motivational speaker, and the creator of the faith-based confidence course and book You Are Worthy. I’m the mom of 2 preemie nuero-divergent boys (one special needs). My mission is to help people see themselves the way God does (in an empowering way) so they have the courage and confidence to go after their dreams.
I got into acting while I was in ministry school. A traveling play came through my town and performed at my church. They didn’t have enough actors, so they asked me to step in and play a role. After my performance, I saw dozens of people come forward in tears wanting to change their lives. At that moment, I realized that I could touch as many lives as an actor as I could as a pastor, and made the transition to move to Los Angeles to pursue that passion. Speaking and coaching were a natural transition with my desire to help people get unstuck from where they are and show them how they can get to where they want to be.
When people join my coaching program or enroll in my course or get my books, they realize: “You Are Worthy”; God created you on purpose for a purpose. You don’t need to prove anything; your worth is based on what God has done. You don’t have to compare yourself to others. Your transformation comes when your outlook is more important than your outward looks. You are enough. You’re the perfect person to accomplish your dreams, and you don’t need to change anything outwardly to achieve them. You’ll gain the courage to stop building other people’s dreams and sabotaging your own, so you can step into your calling and live your purpose with confidence.
Let’s talk about resilience next – do you have a story you can share with us?
I’d been in Los Angeles seven years when I found out I was pregnant. I didn’t feel ready to become a mom. To be honest, I was dreading it because I felt like it would be the death of my acting career. Although as most actors know, your side hustle is something you’re spending more time doing than actually acting. My side-hustle was working at an all-female valet company parking cars, and I did that all the way up until I couldn’t squeeze in between the tightly parked cars anymore with my big belly.
One night after we’d just flown back from screening our documentary in Minneapolis, I unexpectedly went into labor four months early. I didn’t know what was happening, but I knew it couldn’t be good. The doctor told me my new son Timothy had a 90% chance of dying. I was in a wheelchair several hours after birth and had not seen my baby yet. A nurse, my husband and I stood outside a secure door that led to the neo-natal intensive care unit. The nurse pushed a few codes on a panel outside the door. There was a buzzing sound and the lock released. The hefty door reminded me of the one I encountered every Sunday for five years when I helped lead a church service for inmates at the local county jail.
After we scrubbed up for two full minutes up to our elbows, my husband Rob wheeled me into the main room. There were see-through plastic incubators lined up in rows, like something out of a sci-fi movie, with little human forms hooked up to every conceivable life-sustaining device. The nurse led us to Timothy. I gasped, stunned to see my frail infant with soft, fine hair that keeps a baby warm in utero covering his skin like pin feathers of a newborn bird not ready for life outside the nest. My tiny Tim hooked up to all kinds of tubes, devices, and wires, weighing in at a measly pound and a half. I didn’t know what I expected to see—a healthy baby I guess, not a fetus like the pictures from the gestation charts in my OB’s office.
Timothy lay still, ribs visible through his translucent skin, as if every breath he breathed was like pushing concreate blocks off a body no bigger than a young squirrel. Unable to handle the great feat of breathing, his little chest collapsed and gave out under some heavy, invisible weight. The ventilator forced oxygenated air into his lungs and helped push the weight back up.
A colorful sticker on Timothy’s incubator read, “Timothy, 24 weeks, 13 inches and 1.5 pounds.”
The nurse told me my sweet boy counted as the smallest in the unit. He’s what they called a micro-preemie, classified as any baby born before 26 weeks and who weighed less than 800 grams. His diaper the size of a tiny pantyliner came up to his armpits, each little arm the size of my pinky. No chubby thighs, or sweet soft cheeks to stroke. I pushed myself out of the wheelchair to stand, my legs weak. My husband Rob helped steady me. I gazed at Timothy, tears streaming. Something inside my chest called me closer; my arms longed for his baby weight against my chest. I pressed my hands against the 45-degree angle of the plexiglass cover that separated us.
I whispered, “It’s me Timothy, your mommy.”
Tears of pure joy trickled onto his incubator. He made it. Thank God, he made it.
From the moment I placed my hand on my baby boy, I became resolute. No matter any doctor’s negative report or what challenges he’d face, I believed he’d overcome them all. I decided to be immovable. To stand strong for Timothy. To believe Psalm 118:17—he shall not die but live, and declare the works of the Lord.
Over the next few months, I didn’t let anyone dissuade me. It seemed like daily, the doctors were coming to me with bad reports about Timothy’s health; his lungs; his inability to live without being hooked up to all this equipment. Well-meaning friends were telling me to pull the plug, that he would have problems the rest of his life and be a burden to me. I wouldn’t give in. I would fight no matter what.
One day, while parking cars at a Malibu yacht club, I get a call from the doctor that Timothy had died, and they were calling for my permission to resuscitate him. They weren’t sure of the brain damage he would have because of this, as he already had blood on his brain because of his early birth. He was fighting so many challenges already due to organs that were not fully developed and ready to operate outside of the womb.
Daily, I was there for hours to pray for him and read scriptures over him. Even when the nurses told me to be quiet and not disturb him, I would whisper my prayers and wishes for his healing. I saw a difference in his oxygen levels on the monitor whenever I would pray.
When I was finally able to take him home, I nearly had to become a nurse, giving him 20 doses of meds a day, making sure his oxygen tanks were always full, worrying if I didn’t give him enough, he would go brain-dead, and if I gave him too much, he would go blind. I had to monitor his heart rate constantly, and make sure he went to 10 different appointments a week between therapists, doctors, and specialists.
Doctors and therapists both told me he would never walk or talk. Fifteen years later, I’m happy to say he’s doing both! Yes, he has some challenges that go along with being special needs, but I wouldn’t change a thing about him. He has taught me resilience, love, patience, and never to give up on someone, no matter what.
Any resources you can share with us that might be helpful to other creatives?
Being a creative can be a very lonely pursuit. Most of your creating is done alone. The screenwriter pounding away at his desk hoping to sell his script one day. The artist with her brushes using her vision to turn blobs of paint into picturesque landscapes hoping to sell on gallery walls. There are times when musicians will have jam sessions, or actors will rehearse lines with a friend, but mostly a creative’s work is done in a vacuum. Usually, it’s an attempt to create art with no support except from a wild dream, pots of coffee, and a passion one can’t explain.
Sometimes, we will meet other artists in pursuit of the same goals, but things don’t always click. There may be jealousy, insecurity, or sabotage. Often, other artists don’t have the work ethic we have, and when around them, we talk about the craft, which leaves us somewhat fulfilled, but not accomplished. Sometimes, they build us up in a false sense of “done-enoughness,” telling us to “rest a little, take a break … you’ve already created.”
But when you hunger for more in the creative realm, you may need a walk on the beach or up to the Hollywood sign for creative inspiration, but not in lieu of creating.
What I wish I would have known earlier was to carefully curate the friends I spend the most time with—not to fall into friendships just because we share similar goals on paper, but those who share a similar need to thrive in the industry; whose work ethic either matches mine or outdoes it. You need those who will spur you on to the next challenge or summit—those who see your best and say “brilliant, but here’s where you could do better, go further, reach higher.”
These are the types of people I’m now creating life with, my “success besties,” exchanging daily tests of accountability: “Did you work on your goals today? Exercise? Spend time in prayer? Take your vitamins?” The gals I get together with now two times a month for our “Success Sister Saturdays.” We love and encourage each other, genuinely wanting the best. Even though we are all speakers, actors, and coaches, we’re not worried about competition, or trying to sabotage each other (unlike many auditions I’ve gone to over the years).
We read books, watch training videos together, go over scripts, help each other with film projects, and give feedback on speeches … and even share Kleenex while helping each other uncover our creative blocks, resistance to goals, and heartbreaks of life. Most importantly, we check in with each other in a deep and personal way that goes beyond, “Did you get your goals met this week?” to “How is your self-care? What’s hurting your heart and holding you back? Where in life are you not feeling like enough?”
Too many times as creatives, we care more about the texture of our sculpture than who we surround ourselves with. Or we think that being a lone wolf, or bragging that we’re a “self-made man or woman” is a badge of honor, not realizing we are better together.
There is safety in numbers, but they must be the right numbers—those you can fail in front of and not be laughed at; those you can share your fears with and not be judged; those who will celebrate you and not just tolerate you. You need those who are as driven as you are. Those who will spur you on to success, just as genuine in their happiness for you as they would be for their own success. Cultivate those relationships and watch your creativity soar.
We are creatives—
We are the intellectual future of our world
We can take a cacophony of chaos and build a bridge of beauty
We design dreams, innovate ideas, propel passions,
We ignite imaginations, formulate fantasies,
We color creation with our consciousness
We produce the impossible
We invent the unimaginable
We actualize the absurd, and leave our signature on it
We tag the walls of our life exquisitely or crudely
We create.
We are each our own shade
Unlike any other and we are needed
To color this world in a way that no other can
Not a single individual that passes through this earth
Will ever have the voice that I have,
The ideas that I possess or the talents I retain.
If I don’t unleash that part of me,
No one will ever be stirred by what I create,
Nor ever see the colorfulness of my vision.
The world will never hear the melody of my mind
Or experience the thing that only I can do.
The world will never know what it missed…
But I might.
(The above excerpt is from my upcoming poetry collection: “Hollywood Snap Shots”)
Contact Info:
- Website: KatherineNorland.com
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/katherinenorland/
- Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/KatNorland/
- Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/katherine-norland-1b33135/
- Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/katherinenorland
- Other: @KatNorland on TikTok
Image Credits
Image of me as Queen Soldier by Meg Pinsonneault