I’ve always heard that it’s rare to actually work in the field you got your bachelor’s degree in — but I was convinced I’d be an exception to this. During high school, I had it all figured out: I would study psychology, pursue a master’s in counseling, and ultimately open my own therapy practice. This dream shaped my identity going into adulthood. I wrote of wanting to help others in my college admissions essay, passionately explained how I’d make a difference on the world around me when people asked about my career plans, and even daydreamed about how I’d decorate my office. I never imagined my plans would ever change, especially not during my senior year of undergrad.
I thought I’d be a perfect therapist. I’ve always been a very compassionate person who loved making the people around me feel seen and heard. People have always told me that I’m a good listener and give useful advice. I’ve also had my own experiences with mental health and have been a therapy patient before. It felt like the right fit.
My dream of becoming a therapist defined my college experience. I completed my core classes and got my associate’s degree from community college, then transferred to university. There, I started taking classes for my major. I loved these classes — my own personal experiences with mental health made me extremely interested in learning about the brain, behavior, and the different types of disorders. I was specifically drawn to learning about personality disorders (due to having BPD myself) and addiction. I also had to write tons of research papers for my classes, and through this, I developed a passion for writing and research.
I never expected to learn things about myself that made me question whether I’d make a good therapist.
I was learning a lot — but I never expected to learn things about myself that made me question whether I’d make a good therapist. Throughout college, I struggled with my mental health, and as I got closer to graduating, I began to worry. I always thought that as I got older, I’d be better at handling my own emotions, but that didn’t happen. I started to question if this would become an issue once I became a therapist. If I could barely handle my own mental health, how would I be able to handle other people’s? I also discovered that being around people was draining for me. I knew this would be a problem if I became a therapist, as I’d be working with people all day. Part of me thought maybe I’d grow out of feeling this way once I was actually in a graduate program, but another part of me started to doubt the path I was on.
Then, when I started my senior year, something different caught my eye: an application to write for an online magazine run by a student organization. I was immediately interested. In high school, I had written for the school’s newspaper and really enjoyed it, so it was exciting to have the opportunity to write again. I ended up applying and got the position. At first, I didn’t think much of it. I was just trying to rediscover my hobbies, and writing had always been something I loved. But as time went by, I developed a deep passion for writing, and eventually, I realized that I didn’t want writing to just be a hobby — I wanted it to be something I did professionally, something I did my whole life.
It was halfway through my senior year of college when I got cold feet about becoming a therapist — and realized deep down that I had found my calling as a writer. I suddenly found myself conflicted and having a quarter-life crisis. Is it bad I don’t want to be a therapist anymore? Did I really go all these years studying psychology for nothing? Will I just have to end up working a job that makes me miserable?
To add onto my stress and doubt, graduate school application season was coming around, and I’d need to make a concrete decision soon. I didn’t know what to do. On one hand, I felt like I should apply because I had planned on it for so long and it was what other people expected me to do. On the other, I didn’t want to spend thousands of dollars on a graduate program just to change my mind halfway through and not end up not being a therapist. So ultimately, I ended up applying for only one graduate program… and got rejected.
With every application I turned in was a growing feeling that I was trying to place myself on a path I didn’t want to be on.
It was bittersweet. I felt like I had a lot more freedom to explore what I wanted to do since I wasn’t locked into graduate school, but also, I felt like I had disappointed my family — and that weighed on me. As a compromise, I decided to take a gap year to figure out what I truly wanted.
When graduation came around, I had to face the dreaded job hunt. I knew I didn’t want to be a therapist, but I still wanted to find a job I could use my degree in. So, I applied for psychology-related roles in hospitals and various clinics such as mental health technicians, psychiatric technicians, and registered behavioral technicians. However, with every application I turned in was a growing feeling that I was trying to place myself on a path I didn’t want to be on — a path I knew deep down I had grown out of.
It was a job interview in late June that confirmed everything for me. I had gotten an interview for a role as a registered behavioral technician at an applied behavioral analysis practice. There were so many reasons I would’ve been great for this job: I had personal experience with autism, I’ve worked with kids before, and my degree set me up perfectly for the position, but there was a part of me that knew the job would overstimulate and drain me, and that worried me. It put me in a dilemma: If I got the job, what would I do? What would happen if I figured out I wasn’t made for this role like I thought I was?
I’m starting to realize it’s OK to outgrow things that aren’t meant for me, and embrace the things that are.
Turns out, it didn’t matter, because I did not get the job. With that came mixed feelings. Of course, I was a little disappointed because I was excited to start my first “big girl” job, but at the same time, I felt like I had dodged a bullet, because I was pushing myself to pursue a career I didn’t want. This is what ultimately led me to change course; I took the rejection as a sign from the universe to try to do something else with my life — something that I genuinely loved, something that fit me.
So, I pivoted and started to look for writing jobs. Two months later, I am currently a freelance ghostwriter, and I am so glad I’m able to make a living off of something I love so much. Does it feel weird that I’m no longer chasing the dream I had for so long? Yes. But as I get older, I’m starting to realize it’s OK to outgrow things that aren’t meant for me, and embrace the things that are.
One thing hasn’t changed, though: I still want to help people who struggle and make others feel seen and heard, and I’m still doing that — just in a different way. Instead of working with clients as a therapist, I write articles about wellness, mental health, and my own personal lived experiences, with the intent of using my voice to raise awareness and make people feel less alone. I can now say that I’ve chosen a career path that I truly love, and one that makes me happy — and at the end of the day, that’s what matters.