Michelle Deshotels

I’m a storyteller. As I near completion of the first iteration of my portfolio site, I wanted to step back and document the journey. Fair warning: this is a longer story. But if you stick with it, I think you’ll learn a lot about how I think and how I work. So, without further ado, let’s dive in.

Creating a professional portfolio website felt like archaeology of my own career. I’ve always saved work samples: videos on YouTube, eLearning modules on SCORM Cloud, written content in random emails to myself. But they were scattered everywhere, disconnected, just… there. When my role was eliminated in July 2025, I started thinking seriously about a portfolio.

That’s when I sat down and actually cataloged what I’d done over the last few years. What started as “I have about 6 links to share” quickly became “wait, I’ve done way more than this.” The tangible stuff was easy to gather: completed eLearning modules, presentation decks, training videos. But the strategic work? The change management? The communication ecosystems I built? The low-code/no-code systems that made everything work seamlessly? None of that existed as a neat deliverable I could link to.

I realized I needed two different things: a portfolio of tangible outputs and case studies that captured the invisible work. The strategic thinking, the infrastructure building, the organizational transformation that happens behind the scenes.

What started as a web design class assignment turned into something much bigger: a platform that positions my AI enablement work front and center while giving me a space to share the real, in-the-trenches lessons I’ve learned. Here’s how I went from scattered samples to a cohesive website and what I learned along the way.

The Beginning: Realizing I Had More Than I Thought

I’m not going to pretend I had a grand plan. When I started listing my work, I created a Google Doc with six links to public samples. The easy stuff: an eLearning module here, a training video there, a presentation deck I was proud of.

But as I kept writing, the list grew. And grew. And I realized the six tangible deliverables didn’t capture what I actually do. They showed execution, sure, but they didn’t show the strategic thinking that made them effective. They didn’t show how I built Kruze U from scratch and achieved 70-80% sustained engagement when industry benchmark is 20-30%. They didn’t show how I led an AI transformation with no roadmap, building the program iteratively based on real staff feedback.

Six links became a 13-page portfolio as I realized most of my strategic work had no tangible deliverable to share.

The problem? Most of my recent work is proprietary. I can’t just share the Kruze U LMS walkthrough or the actual AI curriculum I built. But I also can’t show up to interviews saying “trust me, I did great work” with nothing to back it up.

That’s where the website idea evolved: I needed a way to explain what I built through case studies while providing older public samples as proof I can actually execute. The strategic work deserved documentation even if I couldn’t share the actual artifacts.

First Decision: Why Not Blue?

Before I could build anything, I needed a brand. And like everything else, I overthought it.

My favorite color is cobalt. But blue is everywhere in corporate L&D. LinkedIn blue. IBM blue. Every training platform you’ve ever used is probably blue. I wanted something that felt professional but wasn’t playing it safe. So I landed on purple, specifically a deep orchid/eggplant (#47034E) as my primary color.

My professor in the web design class validated this immediately: “Blue is very done.” He got it. This is my personal site, not a corporate brand, so I could mix it up without looking unprofessional. The purple felt richer, more distinctive, more me.

Building the Full Palette

But I didn’t stop there. I built out a complete color system:

Primary scheme: Bold, saturated colors for headlines, small accents, and statement elements. Use these when you want maximum visual impact.

Secondary scheme: Softer, brighter, tinted counterparts for large text blocks, backgrounds, and extended content areas. These maintain brand cohesion while being easier on the eyes for longer reading.

The key was creating a two-tier system. I loaded twelve hexadecimal values into Canva: six saturated colors on top, six tinted counterparts on the bottom. This gave me flexibility without sacrificing cohesion. Need a bold statement? Use the top row. Large blocks of text? Drop to the softer, brighter bottom row. It’s systematic efficiency: do the setup work once, then just click what you need.

Creating the Logo: Tangled Mess to Lightbulb

I needed a logo that captured what I actually do. Not just “training” or “learning and development” in generic corporate speak, but the transformation I create: taking complex, confusing information and making it clear.

How it started…

1. The Tangle (top): Messy, interconnected lines representing confused thinking
2. The Connection (middle): Lines converging into the lightbulb, the learning process
3. The Lightbulb (bottom): Yellow/gold rays of light, understanding

The whole thing tells one story: 🌀 Confusion → 🧠 Learning → 💡 Understanding.

My professor loved it immediately. The tangled brain becoming a lightbulb is exactly what happens when training works. You hear that verbal “ahhhh” when people get it. I see the ‘lightbulb’ above their heads. This logo visualizes that moment.

How it’s going…

The Theme Hunt and Menu Structure

I spent quite a bit of time researching WordPress themes that would work for a portfolio site. I needed something clean, professional, but not stuffy. Something that could showcase case studies without looking like a corporate brochure. After testing what felt like dozens, I found a theme that balanced structure with my personality.

But the bigger challenge was the menu structure. What pages did I actually need?

The Conversation That Changed Everything

This is where conversations with my former boss, Matt, changed everything. He looked at my early draft and said, “You need an AI page. Separate from portfolio. Call it out at the top level.”

He was right. AI enablement is the hottest thing in L&D right now, and I actually did what most people only talk about doing. I built an AI Fluency Program from scratch that achieved 100% adoption across 170 employees. That shouldn’t be buried three clicks deep. It should be front and center.

Matt also pushed me to start writing. Not the polished LinkedIn thought leadership stuff – that’s not me. I’m not positioning myself as some sage on the stage. I know what I know from doing the work, and that’s all I can share: what I tried, what happened, what I learned. Matt’s guidance was simple: write it your way, in your voice.

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So the menu evolved through lots of back and forth, adjustments over time, pages added and removed:

• Home (showcasing my six core capabilities)
• About (my story, my philosophy)
• AI (the deep dive: “Building AI Fluency from the Ground Up”)
• Portfolio (tangible deliverables people can view, + strategic projects I can explain but not show)
• The Trenches (lessons from 15+ years in the field, not a blog)
• Recognition (what others say about working with me)
• Contact

Every decision mattered. Should it be “In the Trenches” or just “The Trenches”? Does “AI” work, because “AI Enablement” is too long for my nav menu? Every tiny decision felt massive because I knew this site needed to work for Director-level roles while still sounding like me.

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The Technical Build: Systems Thinking Meets Web Design

Here’s where everything came together in a way I didn’t expect.

I’d built websites before in previous coursework. I already knew HTML (like so many things, enough to be dangerous and to build on). But CSS? I’d tried teaching myself years ago, and it never clicked. This time, learning it in a structured class with an instructor using Dreamweaver made all the difference. Not because I needed to become a CSS expert, but because I needed to understand the underlying architecture.

Understanding Systems Architecture

That’s the thing about systems: they’re all built by people, and there are best practices and standards that transcend the type of system. I love systems. Understanding how one system works helps me understand how all systems work. That’s why I could build the Kruze U ecosystem connecting the LMS with APIs, Zapier workflows, Slack apps, and everything else. Once you understand the underlying architecture, you can apply it anywhere.

This is what I uniquely bring to the table:
I build bridges between systems because I understand the architecture underneath.

Learning web architecture (how CSS controls layout, how content management systems organize information, how databases serve content) reinforced that systematic thinking.

The portfolio Google Doc I’d already created? That became my website outline. I needed to capture everything in one place anyway, so I built that document first. Then, when I went looking for classes to take, I saw “Site Design and Content Management” and realized: I’ve already done the hard work. The Google Doc is my information architecture. Now I just need to build the container for it.

This is what I mean by “taking complex and making it simple.” Art imitating life. I needed a portfolio, so I created the Google Doc. Then I needed a website, and the Google Doc became my blueprint. The website didn’t force the portfolio. The portfolio enabled the website.

The Yurts project (yes, we hand-coded a four-page website about Pacific Yurts) taught me the CSS fundamentals: box models, float properties, why <br> doesn’t need a closing tag. That foundation meant WordPress wasn’t magic; I understood what was happening underneath when I dragged blocks around. I wasn’t just clicking buttons until things looked okay. I was making informed decisions about structure and layout.

The biggest technical challenge? Images. Always images.

I learned to optimize file sizes (that 748KB SVG logo was way too large for web). I learned when to use PNG vs. JPG vs. GIF. I learned that SVG file size has nothing to do with pixel dimensions. It’s about the complexity of the vector paths. My tangled brain logo was large because all those squiggly lines create tons of code. That’s the price of visual interest.

I also learned to prepare for the worst. During the migration from my local development site to Hostinger, files got corrupted. My logo broke. Some images disappeared. I had to re-upload everything fresh rather than trust the botched transfer. It was frustrating, but it taught me: always assume file integrity is compromised until proven otherwise after a migration.

Building the Case Study

So the AI page became my practice ground for claiming my work. “Building AI Fluency from the Ground Up” walks through the entire program:

• The challenge: everyone talking about AI, no one knowing what to do
• My approach: user-centered, iterative, building based on staff feedback
• The results: 100% completion, 50% voluntary adoption before mandate, 40-50 sustained participants in optional live sessions

It was scary writing “I created” and “I designed” and “I achieved.” But it was also honest. And honestly? I’m proud of that work.

The Trenches, Not Blog Posts

I wrestled with what to call the thought leadership section. “Blog” felt wrong because it implies regular updates, and I knew once I got a job, I wouldn’t be posting weekly. I’m not trying to be an influencer. I’m sharing lessons I’ve learned from actually doing the work.

The menu originally said, “In the Trenches”, but I had so many pages that I needed something shorter that still made sense. So, it became “The Trenches,” short for “In the Trenches.” Our brains automatically add the “In” because that’s what brains do. We see “The Trenches” and fill in the context. Just saying “Trenches” wouldn’t have worked because it loses meaning, but “The Trenches” gives you enough to complete the picture.

Even in building this site, I’m using what I’ve learned about learning and developing others. Cognitive load. Pattern recognition. How people process information.

I loved “In the Trenches” because that’s what I’ve been doing my entire career. I’ve led teams in and out of L&D, but I always do the work at every level. Granular to 50,000 feet. I’m not the leader who delegates everything and loses touch with execution. I’m in the weeds and setting strategy. That’s the perspective these posts reflect.

I’ve led teams in and out of L&D, but I always do the work at every level. Granular to 50,000 feet.

The content captures my actual perspective:

• Why blue might be overdone, but it’s not wrong
• How building a color palette system mirrors building an LMS architecture
• Why front-loading setup work saves you time in the long run
• Why doing the work at every level makes me a better leader…

Real talk. No corporate jargon. Lessons that land differently depending on where I’ve been in my career. And if I write eight posts in January 2026 and then nothing for six months? That’s fine. The Trenches aren’t supposed to be frequent. They’re supposed to be valuable.

This isn’t just a portfolio website.
It’s proof that I think in systems.

When my professor called my site “excellent, excellent” and asked if he could use it as a teaching example, I realized: this isn’t just a portfolio website. It’s proof that I think in systems. That I can take complex information (15 years of work) and make it simple (core capabilities). That I practice what I preach about user-centered design and strategic communication.

And maybe most importantly: I built something I’m proud to share. Not because it’s perfect, but because it’s mine. It sounds like me. It represents my work honestly. It positions my strengths strategically.

If you hung in there, I hope you enjoyed coming along for the ride on my journey to building this site. 😊