My time as a supervisor and program manager was both incredibly rewarding and deeply exhausting. I poured myself into the care of the patients we served and was equally committed to the well-being of my staff. Managing a diverse team naturally comes with interpersonal challenges—conflicts are inevitable, even among your most dedicated employees. But I’ve always believed that problems are opportunities for solutions, and I worked hard to foster that mindset.

My most recent role in the corporate world introduced a level of stress I had never experienced before. This was compounded by emerging medical issues (brought on in large part by the stress itself), my responsibilities as the president of a national volunteer organization, and the ongoing journey of parenting a neurodivergent child who experiences the world in beautifully unique—and sometimes challenging—ways.

The tipping point came during a series of software transitions that caused widespread disruptions. While some level of turbulence is expected with any major system change, these updates severely affected payroll in my department. Some staff members were unintentionally underpaid, leading to real fear—including the possibility of homelessness. For me, that was unacceptable. I found myself working nearly around the clock—filling in for absent staff (as people were calling out more because of this), manually calculating payroll, educating HR on discrepancies, and proposing actionable solutions.

If that situation had lasted a week or two, it might have been manageable. But after several months, my physical and emotional health began to decline, and I knew I needed to make a change. That’s when I made the decision to step away and start my own independent practice.

Starting something new is never easy. There are countless unknowns, and growth has been slower than I hoped. Fortunately, I have other income streams—through my work as a magician and artist—which help supplement my practice. Still, we’ve had to adjust as a family, living more intentionally and spending more consciously. I carry guilt about not yet matching my previous income and occasionally feel like I’m letting my family down. But I’m also still here—and finally prioritizing my health—and that counts for something.

I think too often we feel pressure to present a polished version of our lives, to make everything look shiny and perfect. The truth is, I am successful—just not yet at the level my aspirations aim for. I share this to embrace vulnerability, practice transparency, and allow space for my own processing. If you’re in a similar place, I see you. And you’re not alone.