It has been a minute since I have posted a field note.
Folks, I have been in it.
Nobody really talks about how absolutely fucking hard it is to release a role that you have been in, for the last decade, to follow your deeper dreams. My story is winding and complex. Bear with me.
When I was 6-years-old, going to a young writers’ conference, I planted the seed to become a writer. I have written a million plus pages of journal entries, blog posts, and other random crap over the years.
In high school, I absolutely loved English Lit. When it was time to write an essay for my AP English exam, one of the questions asked me to write about a daring author. I chose to write about Jane Austen because she said,
“Write about what you know.”
I found boldness in taking mundane life and making it into something special. And I suppose the deeper layer was that while I longed to write professionally, I was also super afraid that I had nothing to say. Like I had no expertise, no special skills, no creativity.
Full disclosure, I can’t even remember any Austen books, but her words write about what you know landed in such a visceral way. It was like she was giving me permission to just be me.
When it came time to go to college, I wanted to major in English Lit or Philosophy. My parents told me that these majors were not practical. They steered me towards Journalism with an emphasis in Public Relations.
My brain embraced the journalistic style. The who, what, where, when, how, and why of it. I loved the investigative interviewing skills, and I loved the structure. It was simple and clear and made sense to me. There was a container, and, within that container, I could be creative.
There was this other side of me that was deeply connected to humanity. Growing up, my mom volunteered with at-risk youth and she often took me to volunteer with her. I admired her. And I wanted to be like her. So when it came time to do my internship, I opted to work in the admin office of a youth and family services nonprofit. I was a PR intern so I basically wrote stories about people doing good things in the community. I felt this hunger to be more hands on, and actually do the good things in the community. I talked to my boss and asked how I could get into a direct service role and she said,
“Oh, you want to go to the dark side.”
She laughed, and I don’t think I really got it. I was like 20. For context, I am now 46. She helped me get a role with at-risk teenage boys at a transition shelter. The boys had just come from juvie and then were staying where I worked until they got into foster care, or another longer term placement. Those boys tested all my patience, but I loved it. It was so rewarding. It paid terrible like 8.25 an hour, I want to say. I learned a ton. They pushed every boundary. At first I would get so pissed and I would yell at them. I quickly learned that they loved getting a rise out of me, so they basically won if I got riled up. So I became calm, cool, and collected no matter what happened and they hated it. And it worked. And it has served me well and still does - those lessons.
When my intern supervisor said goodbye to me, while I went to the darkside, she said,
“Be sure to tell your boss to let you write.”
Weeeellll, beyond progress notes, the opportunities for writing did not come.
I never ever stopped writing.
After I left that job, I wanted a writing job, but it was hard to come by. I filled my time doing lots of people-based jobs - leasing apartments, selling college, being a server. It always felt like a part of my soul was missing.
When I was a server, that was one of my favorite times, because it gave me a chance to just hang out with regulars, have fun, build relationships, and connect. I am a connector through and through.
Growing up in the Midwest, I learned early the value of being hospitable. And I am proud of those roots.
In my job as a server, I got an opportunity to freelance for a newspaper and to do an internship writing about people reconnecting after years without contact thanks to new social platforms. That was all back in 2004.
Fast forward, I went through some mental health challenges, probably to do with feeling out of alignment. To find more purpose, I became a peer support specialist and helped other people who were struggling. I liked it. I quickly moved up through the ropes and became a supervisor and a trainer. And then I decided to get my Master’s Degree in Clinical Mental Health Counseling. This was in 2013.
Going through the classes, I didn’t feel super excited by it. It felt simple and natural, but didn’t have the draw I wished it did. I failed my first final project because I fundamentally disagreed with the worldview of my professor. I wanted to drop out. I really did. But, I had come so far, and all the well meaning people in my life encouraged me to keep going. So I did.
I graduated and then because there is so much red tape in the therapy world I had to get an associate’s license (LAC) which I didn’t want to do. But against my better judgment I did. Well, then the next step is to get several hours of client work while undergoing supervision for two years and then get your independent license (LPC). I was kicking and screaming and everything in me knew I didn’t want to be on this path. But, I did it anyway. It was 2022 when I got the LPC. It felt like a weight holding me down at the bottom of the sea.
I did not like any of the jobs I had as a therapist. Not really. The things I liked were blogging and being on a podcast, but I did not get paid for those things. I only got paid for seeing clients.
I was desperate to get out of this system that felt like a jail cell. I started my own private practice. Now I recognize that starting a business because you are desperate and running away is not a good look, but I couldn’t see another way out.
Again, I liked blogging, creating the company website, and creating curriculum. I did not like seeing clients. I felt so trapped
I heard a therapist burnout coach on a podcast and hired her, but she did not help me figure out a way to make an income that was sustainable. It was depressing.
On a final hail Mary, I took a position in collaborative care supervising a team of therapists in primary care settings and it was not what I had hoped it would be. I felt like my hands were tied. Therapists on my team would tell me they were overwhelmed and burnt out, and upper management would tell me,
“People are overusing the terms burnout and overwhelm.”
So folks, if you are still with me, this is when I said,
“No more.”
I quit. At my 90-day mark, I told them this was not the right fit. I gave them a three month notice.
During that time, I tried to get myself ready for what was next. I took a certification on change management and business analysis. I even tried to hire an elite coach to help with my resume etc. Well, she turned out to be a huge scam.
May 29th was my last day at that job. May 31st I let my LPC expire. I had no plan. I know this is not recommended, but I literally would rather starve then continue to feel misaligned.
Since leaving the job and letting the chains of that credential expire, I have allowed myself to be on Sabbatical - a true sacred pause. To return to what grounds me - writing, jogging, volunteering with cats, taking roadtrips, hanging with people I love.
My friend and I started a Pockets of Joy podcast on Spotify to honor the moments of joy within this crazy world.
I started Just Write Field Notes LLC to become a platform for me to write and for me to showcase and help other writers shine.
And then I realized I cannot put pressure on these creations to perform. To make money.
So starting at the beginning of October, it has been throwing spaghetti at the wall, with job applications, in hopes that something will land.
Not to brag, but in the past, people have marvelled at how easily I have gotten jobs. Well, welcome to the Wild Wild West of 2026. It has NOT been easy.
Today is October 28. I have put out 35 applications since October 2nd.
I have discovered that I am BOTH a connector and a creator and I need both to thrive.
My creative side stalls out when I don’t have connection and community.
So I am applying for things that feel sustainable. That give me enough breathing room so I can still create.
I had to make it into a game. Because if it’s not fun, I don’t want to do it.
So I created a spreadsheet called Job Treasure Hunt. I started color coding it. Red = Rejected, Green = I am excited about this possibility, Yellow = I have moved beyond the first step of the application, and if there is no color, it’s just a blah application that I put out there since it's a numbers game. The more I go through this process the more clarity I get on what I want and what I need. Sadly, I only have one yellow so far. I do have a lot of greens.
I thought I’d peak out from under the weight of this liminal chapter and share a little with you. I hope to God you are not facing similar struggles. These are unprecedented times and I think sharing our stories helps us not feel so alone and isolated.
