Reinvention Isn’t a Detour — It’s the Path

A love letter to every version of me that kept going.

I used to think something was wrong with me for not sticking to one path. For starting over. For walking away. For pivoting when everyone else seemed to be climbing.

But now I know:
Every so-called “detour” — every job I outgrew, every chapter I grieved, every title I shed — was not a failure. It was a return.

For years, I thought stability meant success. That if I just stayed grateful, worked hard, and performed well, life would eventually reward me — with certainty, security, and maybe even a quiet kind of joy.

But here’s what no one told me:
You can be wildly competent, deeply loyal, and still be suffocating.
And sometimes the breakdown isn’t when you lose the job — it’s when you keep showing up to something that’s slowly breaking you.

Since college, I’ve worn more hats than I can count: waitress, tutor, cold caller, bank teller, wellness consultant, content creator, executive assistant. I’ve stood behind counters, sat in boardrooms, and held the weight of other people’s lives with a smile. At times I felt powerful. At times I felt invisible.

Each job taught me something.
But none of them felt like home.

On the outside, it looked like I was constantly reinventing myself. But on the inside, I was searching — sometimes desperately — for a place where I could finally exhale. I kept hoping that the next pivot would lead to a deeper kind of fulfillment, but the ladder I was climbing never quite reached my soul.

It wasn’t until I began studying therapy this year — learning how to hold myself the way I held everyone else — that I realized the path I’d been walking wasn’t broken. It was mine.

Now, in grad school, I finally feel like I’m walking toward my purpose — not to arrive, but to become. I don’t have it all figured out. I’m still a work in progress. But the difference is: I’m no longer outsourcing my worth to job titles or perfect plans.

The road here was anything but clean.
But maybe that’s what makes it mine.

What’s one chapter you once called a detour… that you now see as part of your becoming? Feel free to reply, leave a comment, or simply sit with the question. I’d love to hear what you’re ready to honor.

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Next up: a story about grief, devotion, and the quiet ache of not letting go.

But for now, I’m holding space for the path that brought me here — every detour, every goodbye, every lesson.

And maybe… yours too.