Erica's Editing Room

I feel like my dreams have been shattered. Like I have no purpose anymore. The thing I wanted to do so badly—to be a school counselor—has been put on hold. Maybe it’s over for now. One of the hardest lessons I’ve had to learn is just how quickly life can unravel. You think you’ve got it all figured out—set your goals, make your plans, and convince yourself you know exactly where you’re headed—only to watch everything change in an instant, leaving you back at square one, questioning everything. That’s where I am now, trying to piece it all together. I thought I had my future mapped out, especially when I started grad school. My goal was clear and simple: graduate and be a school counselor by 30. That was the dream, the vision I worked toward every single day. I still remember my last year of grad school like it was yesterday. Thanks to an internship at the school that hired me, I was already working in the field. It felt like everything was falling into place. I couldn’t believe my luck...

  I find myself stuck in a cycle of grief. I’m angry at myself for not doing better, for feeling like a failure. I catch myself bargaining with thoughts like, "It could get better," or "It’s not that bad." Denial keeps whispering, "This isn’t really happening." And depression? Depression feels like it’s taken up permanent residence in my body. Yet, I haven’t reached Acceptance. All of this turmoil—this pain—over a job. A job that I had wrapped my entire identity around. When I was 17, I almost lost my mom. She survived but was left brain-damaged and completely blind. During that time, I didn’t have anyone to turn to. We lived in Florida, far from family—just me, my emotionally distant stepdad, and my mom. Those months between November 2009 and 2010 were some of the hardest, and most confusing, days of my life. They made me realize that there are kids just like me—without someone to lean on. I knew then that when I grew up I wanted to be the adult I needed ...