My stomach contorted into knots, my legs trembled like a champaign flute caught in vibrato, and my heart nearly beat out of my chest. My body wound up in a whirlwind of anxiety as I took the first steps from one career to another. I found myself transitioning out of education, all the way to becoming a mental health counselor. 

This was not something I expected to experience as an adult. Child-me knew exactly what I was destined to be when I grew up. Hence why I never strayed from the idea of becoming a teacher. And everyone knows that growing up means transitioning smoothly according to your destiny. If that’s the case, how come my future fell apart as soon as I started to pursue it?

I began to question my choice during my sophomore year of college while taking numerous education courses. Although I still desired to support kids and to be a pillar of support for them, I grew to feel like teaching wasn’t the perfect fit I thought it was. I never connected with the content of any particular subject. Nor did I enjoy the overwhelming amount of lesson planning that had to be done. On top of these doubts, I also had a rough student teaching experience that left me emotionally and mentally drained. It was that final straw that pushed me to the conclusion that this field wasn’t for me.

 I switched to pursuing editorial work. I enjoyed writing with a heavy passion, so I thought I could earn a living helping writers improve their craft. That way, I had the ability to encourage people to express themselves in the best way possible while holding onto some creative liberty over my methods. 

I took a professional editing course, applied for positions, and even continued my own writing on the side to improve my skills. However, unlike with education, I learned the unfortunate truth regarding a career in editing. First, I discovered how hard a field it is to get into. And second, it’s not as stable as I’d believed. Most others in this profession still work a second job alongside it, from what they’ve told me. I developed a sense of panic. This would mean that if I wanted a family, I’d have to balance two jobs. Not to mention, it started to affect my view of literature. The creative aspect began to look lackluster, and I found myself losing that love of the activity that I always enjoyed.

Yet again, it’s back to the drawing board, trying to figure out what’s right for me. I feel so lost and frustrated, considering my age now compared to then. I’m an adult who doesn’t know what to do with her life! It seems like I’m falling behind compared to peers my age who already have stable jobs or families of their own. 

I remember telling my therapist all about these changes. I expressed my worry to her, rambling on concerning my fear of ending up who-knows-where as a disappointment to my loved ones.

She spoke up and asked me, “Well, if you want to support others, why not consider becoming a mental health counselor? You’ve mentioned it before in passing once or twice during our past sessions.”

I was speechless, taken aback by the suggestion. Would I make a good mental health professional? It was something I had considered, but wasn’t sure about due to my emotional nature. When I told her that, she explained that my empathic nature could be a plus and allow me to connect more with others. She also said, through the schooling for that type of job, I’d learn how to better control it and set boundaries in a healthier manner.

“I think you should look into it. Compare the pros and cons. For yourself,” my therapist said, offering me a supportive smile.

I took her advice, explored the idea more, and discovered it aligns with what I desire most. I’ve always wanted to help people; that hasn’t changed. She had a point regarding the way this type of job may allow me to do so. Worry still courses through me. I feared that if one thing went wrong during the schooling, I’d fall off another path yet again. Though for once, I couldn’t let that fear win. If I didn’t try, I’d never know if it was right or not. And if I were to just run away because things looked difficult, then I wouldn’t be who I am now.

So here I am, ready to start taking some psychology classes in order to get into a mental health counselor program. I remain terrified, but I have an abundant amount of loved ones standing behind me to keep me going. Along with a whole bunch of determination to see this through to the end. As I sit in front of my computer, ready to log onto my first-ever psychology lecture, I feel my hands itching and eyes sparkling with a newfound sense of hope. Neither the class nor this path I’ve chosen will be easy, but I’m as ready for it as I’ll ever be