I did everything I was told. Worked hard, went to college, got the degree, and landed the "good job".
I emigrated for it, 16 days after my dad died. There was no time to grieve.
Two months later, my husband was diagnosed with cancer. We survived on one salary, thousands of miles apart, and I kept showing up.
When the pandemic hit, I spent two years away from my family and friends. Still, I kept going.
In 2022, burnout put me in hospital, and I started a master's from that same hospital bed, thinking that was the answer.
In 2023, I finally broke. And this time, I didn't drag myself back.
Somewhere in the quiet after, it hit me. A "good job" was never the same thing as a good life. And now, it barely keeps up with the price of everything.
Running my own business was never the plan. But I started building something from the skills I already had, and in 2025, I left teaching.
Now I don't have a "good job". I have a good life.
It's probably not your plan either. But it could be, and it's closer than you think. You've already spent years building the skills it takes.