And Why My Path Is Shifting
I didn’t choose social work because I had all the answers. I chose it because, for a long time, I needed someone who didn’t exist for me.
Growing up biracial—Black and white—I often felt caught between identities, never fully seen or understood by either side. I didn’t feel like I was enough for either side and often found myself in the middle. There were moments when neither side fully understood my experiences, my questions, or the weight I was carrying. Add racism and discrimination to that mix, and the loneliness deepened. What I wanted most during those years was simple: someone who could listen, relate, and truly see my point of view without asking me to explain or defend it.
I wanted to become the person I once needed.
That absence stayed with me.
Over time, it shaped my desire to help others. I realized I wanted to become the person I once needed. Someone who could create space, especially for those who don’t fit neatly into one place. Multiracial, multicultural, misunderstood. People whose stories don’t fit into one box.
Social work felt like a natural extension of that calling. I wasn’t interested in fixing people. I wanted to listen. To guide. To advocate. To sit with individuals as they made sense of their lives and experiences. Therapy, in particular, felt meaningful because it offered the opportunity to say: you don’t have to explain yourself here.
But as much as this path was rooted in passion, it was also rooted in something else—trying to fill a void I never received myself.
After failing my state licensure exam (four times), I was forced into a season of reflection. One that was uncomfortable, humbling, and clarifying. I had to ask myself hard questions about sustainability, stability, and what I truly need right now—not just emotionally, but practically.
Helping others will always matter to me, even as the path shifts.
I’ve come to understand that while helping others will always be part of who I am, it doesn’t have to look the same in every season.
Right now, my priority is stability. Income. Creating a stable life that gives me space to breathe, grow, and feel secure. That realization doesn’t erase my passion—it reframes it. I will always enjoy listening. I will always care deeply about justice, equity, and change. Those values don’t disappear because a path shifts.
For now, I’m allowing myself to pursue a different direction. One that meets my current needs while still honoring who I am. Time will tell if I choose to retest. I’m not closing the door completely; I’m simply not forcing myself through it before I’m ready.
This season is teaching me that purpose doesn’t have to be proven through struggle. Sometimes, choosing yourself is the work.
And sometimes, choosing a new path is not giving up—it’s choosing to stay whole.
If this season of change feels familiar, I’d love to hear from you. Whether you’re redefining a dream or simply finding your footing, you’re welcome to share your thoughts or experiences in the comments.
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