December 13, 2017, was another day at the office. Not a particularly bad day, but also not a good one. I didn’t have many good days anymore, just slow, uninspired days, sometimes with bright spots. For weeks, the dread of going to a job that was unfulfilling flattened me. I felt it every morning as I quickly scanned my emails, before I was even dressed, to anticipate what fires may erupt when I got to the office, and every Sunday when I wondered if everyone else felt so stuck in their careers. And, I felt it in this moment, sitting at my desk, between morning meetings and sending out holiday-themed pitches.
I opened up the journal that I take almost everywhere with me. I hoped that a few minutes of writing could snap me out of my fog so I could focus on finishing my tasks. When the pen reached the paper, I did not exactly what words it would produce but the pen moved quickly.
I promise, my scratchy writing read, that by December 13, 2018, I will no longer be in this job.
It’s not like me to make such bold predictions, and on the surface it seemed foolish, but deep down I wanted it to be true. I maybe even believed that it could be. I didn’t know how or why or where, but I had the ambition to start searching for those answers, and I guess that was enough.
Well, it’s December 13, 2018, and I am not sitting in an office that is too cold responding to work emails. Rather, I am on my couch, with my dog at my feet, and enjoying the site of my small Christmas tree. Not a terrible place to be at 10 a.m. on a weekday morning.
One year ago, I didn’t have a specific plan to apply for schools, but the desire to become a therapist had been brewing for about 10 years. That little note was a permission slip to take a chance on a dream and myself, to make big sweeping changes for a shot at being happy. Over the next few months, I began doing little tasks that lead me to where I am now, a graduate student in clinical mental health counseling.
My first semester of graduate school was, simply, wonderful, and life as a student comes with some nice perks, like a six-week holiday break. My classes pushed me to levels of uncomfortable that are necessary for professional and personal growth, and I started to my swim in an identity outside of the one as a communications professional. Many times, specifically when I was practicing my counseling skills, I felt a deep reassurance that I made the right decision, that I was going to be a good counselor someday.
However, leaving my job has not come without repercussions. We’ve endured some setbacks this fall that did make me think for a second that this dream chasing was foolish, that maybe I should return to the 9-5 with stable paychecks and benefits. I could suffer through a job I didn’t like if it meant that I didn’t have to worry as much.
Except, I couldn’t. I worried a lot back then too, so not do what I want and just try to keep the worrying at bay? I tried that, and a year ago I vowed to never let myself get that stuck again. Even though I love being a graduate student and working towards becoming a therapist, things are not perfect, but they never will be. Instead, I have to focus on all the good that I have, and when I look back at where I was last year, I feel so grateful. I took a risk on myself, and it was worth it.
A new year is coming, what permission slip will you write for yourself?