Free Your Spirit

I want to preface this blog post by saying that it has taken me a while to write this. I have been undergoing a transformation period over the last few months, and in the process, these words have been floating around in my brain as I tried to fit the pieces together. In the last couple of weeks, the words have finally been making their way out of my head and onto this page. Therefore, this entry is extremely valuable for myself, since its creation developed in real time as I went through a recent journey of career hardships and self-reflection. In summary, my most recent job turned out to not be what I had expected, nor what I had signed up for. I have been struggling with this since the beginning of the year. To be frank, the company as a whole has been struggling; it is a healthcare startup that misspent/overspent millions of dollars. To say the least, I am no longer employed at that company as of this month. 

I have heard of individuals experiencing epiphanies through deep meditation and self-reflection after feeling stuck for so long. As I write this, I can happily say that this recently happened to me. After leaving my job at the beginning of this month, I felt a strong inclination to pause before jumping into another job or field altogether. I was extremely frustrated, and tired of putting my heart into career paths that end up not working out - whether due to the job itself not being right for me, or for the company not being right for me, or both (this particular time, it was a lot of both). I have been taking time to ask myself  some deeper questions: “Why can I not experience a sense of fulfillment in my career?” “Why do I put my everything into jobs, but never feel like it is what I am meant to be doing?” “Why do I continue to feel like I have so much to offer, yet I cannot seem to translate my potential into long-term success that feels meaningful?” “Am I just going to cycle through jobs every 2-3 years for the rest of my life?” “No matter how great of an employee I am at whatever position I have, why does it not feel so great?”

These are the tough questions I have been sitting with and marinating in for hours on end over the last few weeks. Since psychologists and psychiatrists always say that the majority of our answers can be found in our childhood, this is where I began my journey of self-reflection.

I remember being a genuinely happy kid full of life. I loved elementary school and naturally developed close friendships. I can vividly recall memories of enjoying myself and feeling true happiness. I can feel the positive emotions, sense of well-being, and peace. I was goofy, smart, kind, creative, and had no problems being my true self. This is what I admire in children - their innocence and willingness to fully be themselves, because they simply do not know any other way to live. 

Then, when I was around 10-11 years old, my dad became ill with a crippling neurological disease. This traumatic experience occurred during a crucial part of my development - the beginning of puberty. My dad passed away in the summer before the transition to middle school, when I was almost 13. I realize that it does not take a genius to know that this affected me mentally. I have always been aware of this, but have never actually managed to fix the broken parts of myself. Ever since my dad became sick, I have been battling anxiety and depression. These conditions run in my family, so I knew that I was already predisposed to them. I also developed other lovely mental health issues such as extreme self-judgment, OCD, eating disorders/disordered eating, poor body image, perfectionism, lack of confidence, lack of self-worth, and feeling like I don’t belong. I went to therapy after my dad passed away, but I wasn’t even a teenager yet. I did not understand, nor was mature enough to comprehend the psychological trauma I was in the midst of. I was simply trying to survive middle school, which is tough enough in it of itself. I also wanted to avoid mental health medications, because of the stigma surrounding them. I did not want to be someone who was reliant on a drug in order to feel better mentally. I completed my therapy sessions with a very surface-level understanding of what I was going through.

I suffered through middle school desperately trying to fit in. I ignored my morals, values, and conscience. I wanted to be friends with everyone and fit in everywhere. I often did manage to have several different friend groups of extremely different types of people.  On the one hand, the fact that I was able to have a large variety of friends made me feel accepted. On the other hand, what I did not consciously realize was that being a “social chameleon” takes a lot of energy, and requires someone to change their personality depending on who they are with. Even though there was a part of me that felt accepted, I still felt like an outsider. Like I was going through the motions to be a part of something, trying too hard to force something that should occur naturally. Looking back, I can clearly identify how I would alter my sense of humor and personality to match those around me. The only people who truly were my real friends at one point were no longer friends with me, due to my own actions and behavior. As I altered myself to fit in with everyone, the positive innate qualities that I used to have inevitably began to fade over time, and were replaced with negative qualities. The people who were considered “cool” or “popular” often did things that were not good or moral. Since these individuals were who I thought I ultimately needed to be accepted by, my good values and intentions were lost. Or, they were at least silenced and buried. The real me was still there somewhere, but was being snuffed out by the negative parts of me. I remember that I always felt the gut instinct that something was off or not right, but I ignored this intuition so that I could fit in. The irony is that although I “fit in”, I felt like I didn’t belong anywhere. It was inauthentic and forced. I fought this internal battle all through the rest of school. I stopped doing things that made me happy, and only did things that my “friends” were doing, things that they enjoyed. I was no longer doing things I used to love - song writing, singing, journaling, art. Most of the activities I did after my dad passed away were just tools for me to fit in with others. I did not see it this way at the time; I thought I was doing what I needed to do in order to belong. This showed up in innocent ways, such as suddenly becoming obsessed with rock music because a boy I had a crush on loved rock music. This also presented itself in other not-so-innocent ways. For instance, one of my groups of friends started to smoke cigarettes. Even though I hated cigarettes and of course knew how unhealthy they were, I began to smoke a little so they would think I was cool (this particular hobby did not last very long, thank goodness). Shortly after this, I started to like a boy that was rebellious and very dark. He was far from the type I would ever truly be into, but I was desperate to be accepted by everyone, and I also was in a phase of rebellion. Therefore, I was drawn to him. I got into what he was into so that he would like me more. This did not involve drugs or alcohol, but other types of “activities” that were rather alarming. He was into cutting - as in cutting himself. Sadly, as much as I hated it and was grossed out by it, I began to cut myself in order to impress him. This was a huge contrast to my true self, as seeing anything gory made me sick to my stomach. It is unbelievably alarming that I went to these measures because of my own lack of self-worth. I remember that one day, in the middle of school, I cut up the top of my hand as a way to show that I was a cutter (even though I really wasn’t). I cannot remember the item I had used, but I do remember making numerous cuts on my right hand. I also remember there were quite a few people around who witnessed this disturbing scene. It is astonishing to me that I did not end up in the counselor’s office. Then one day after school, I took a razor and cut my upper thighs in the shower, as my next method of proving myself to this boy. I remember feeling sick to the point where I almost vomited in the shower. I sent him a picture of what I had done, and felt validated by his expression of approval. Luckily, the sane and good part of me didn’t allow myself to cut deep enough to cause any scarring (at least there was that small win). I had impressed him, which was my goal. This was the last time I partook in self-harm. But I continued to date this boy, which eventually became way too scary that I finally ended things with him (this took him a while to accept).

The years went on, and I continued to do things that other people thought were cool, or things that I saw the “cool” people doing. I continued to date boys that I now realize I didn’t have a true connection with - I dated them so that I could be accepted, or for the simple fact that they liked me and I wanted to be with someone. I now see that I was completely codependent on others, and relied on external validation to determine my worth. 

Years continued to pass by, and the real me was buried under false identities, just begging to be heard. Sometimes I would feel a flicker of the true me, and would even let her come out - it’s not like I never did anything good. But overall, the darkness would win. I would ultimately ignore the real me and stuff her down deep so that she wouldn’t get in my way. 

After high school, I thankfully snapped out of the bad behavior. I used to look back and think it was a miracle that I moved on from my rebellious, immoral phase. But now I see it for what actually happened - I was no longer surrounded by the toxic environments that I had let myself be influenced by throughout middle school and high school. When those negative influences were gone, I naturally stopped feeling the need to partake in any of that negative behavior. Although I am happy and relieved that I stopped acting that way, I now understand that the reason I stopped was the same reason I had started in the first place - my desire to fit in and be accepted by others. After graduating high school and leaving that negative environment behind, I now felt the pressure of the next step I was “supposed” to take in life - going to college and getting a big girl job. Since this is what was expected of me, this is what I put all my energy into. My obsessive all-or-nothing thinking led me down a scholarly path that from the outside seemed admirable. I went to college, majored in nutrition, and achieved a cumulative GPA of 4.0. However, taking a deeper dive into this period of my life, there are several red flags. First of all, I only applied to Kent State University. Why did I apply here and nowhere else? Because my boyfriend at the time, who was a year older than me, went there. I didn’t even hesitate about the decision. Second red flag was my choice in major. I of course did not realize this at the time, but there were a couple of  reasons that I had chosen nutrition as my major. One: after years of ignoring my true self, I had no idea what I was actually interested in. Two: the eating disorder I had developed along the way dictated a lot of my decisions. I had an obsession with calories, exercise, my weight, and how my body looked. Unfortunately, I just thought that healthy living was my passion and destined to become my career. I dedicated all of my time to studying, so that I could get that perfect 4.0 GPA. I isolated myself, only hung out with my boyfriend and his friends, and did what I thought was the right thing to do. 

I remember my graduation day so clearly. I was named Summa Cum Laude and should have been thrilled to have accomplished this amazing feat. However, as I looked around the large room full of other graduates and their families, I was surprised to realize that I did not feel any happiness. I felt no pride, no sense of accomplishment. The emotions that I felt were emptiness, loneliness, anxiety, and concern that I did not know what to do next. Everyone seemed so excited to start their careers, but I was not. Now what was I supposed to do? What I did know was that I did not want to be a dietitian like I had thought I wanted to be for the last 4 years. But I did not understand why. How could I have been so driven to graduate with a degree in nutrition, but then not feel like actually getting a career in the field I worked so hard to enter? I realize now that it is because a part of me deep down knew that this was not the career I actually wanted. Looking back, I can see that I had gone to college and chosen my degree for the wrong reasons. I had been so immersed in the obsession to get perfect scores and was so caught up in my mental health issues. Once I achieved the goal and was externally validated, I immediately found myself feeling lost again. 

After college, I cycled through jobs. I worked minimum wage positions and started my own health coaching company (I was still trying to make that career work since I had spent so much time, money, and effort on it for 4 years). I eventually got my first big girl job being a WIC nutritionist. I ended up getting promoted and even exploring other aspects of working at WIC. I became a lactation educator and started teaching lactation classes. I strongly considered becoming a lactation consultant, but ultimately decided not to (yet another instance of me trying so hard to find my dream career). I found myself stuck again, feeling like I was not where I was meant to be. I longed to find the career that I was destined to be in. I drove myself crazy, and reached a point where I could no longer deal with my mental health issues. I expressed my concerns to my doctor, who immediately prescribed me anti-depressants and anti-anxiety medications. For the first time, I agreed to start taking mental health medications.

I accepted that sometimes, we need mental health medications, and this is ok. I understood that some individuals do not naturally produce as many feel-good hormones as other people, and since depression/anxiety ran in my family, I figured that this was my problem as well. If only there was a way to test serotonin levels, just as things like blood sugar, sodium, and cholesterol levels could be tested. I accepted that I needed mental health medication just as others need medications to help with their physical conditions. Now, I still believe that a part of this is true - sometimes we do need medications to help us mentally. I wanted to try to end the mental health stigma. The meds did help me feel better, which was a relief. However, I still felt that nagging voice inside of me saying that the pills weren’t necessarily the answer. I felt that the medication was treating the symptoms, rather than actually solving the problem that was causing the symptoms. I knew that something deeper was wrong that was not being addressed. But I didn’t know what it was. And at the same time, I was just trying to live a normal life. One thing that I did do right was that I found the person I am truly meant to be with. The person who would become my husband a few years after graduating college. Over time, I continued to take my medication, and just live life to the best of my abilities. 

While working at WIC, I experienced something that I had not felt in a very long time - a passion was ignited. A large portion of our clients were Hispanic. The first time I had a Spanish-speaking client and needed an interpreter, I was completely mesmerized. I immediately began to teach myself Spanish. I used online courses for beginner level, then intermediate level, then advanced level. I listened to Spanish-speaking podcasts, watched Spanish shows, and read Spanish books. I volunteered to teach ESL to Spanish speakers, which allowed me to use the Spanish I learned in order to help the students translate from their native language to English. I volunteered at a clinic to interpret and translate nutrition education from clinicians to low-income Hispanic patients that did not have health insurance. I absolutely loved learning Spanish, but with the busyness of life and the need to pay bills, my passion stopped evolving. It remained a side-passion that received different levels of attention from me, depending on what I was going through in my everyday life. 

I was blessed with two healthy pregnancies, with no medical complications. However, my mind and body were absolutely miserable during each pregnancy. Both times I had chronic back pain, sciatica, muscle spasms/cramping, nausea, vomiting, swelling, and numbness. The physical symptoms were so bad that I could barely walk down the hallway. All of this, in combination with the fluctuation in hormones, worsened my depression. Postpartum depression was awful for me, especially after my daughter (second baby). Looking back, I can clearly see that all of these factors created the perfect storm. The physical, mental, and emotional pain had become somewhat normal for me - I definitely was not numb or anything, but I basically accepted that this was my baseline. This was my normal. I had felt this badly for so long, that I didn’t consciously realize that it was not ok; I thought that it was just how life was. Was I able to have fun and enjoy myself? Yes, of course. I wasn’t a crying mess all the time, but my overall mental well-being was not good. This actually happens very frequently with moms - maybe not to this extent, as everyone experiences things differently - but the whole process of gradually losing your sense of self, as you give all your energy and time to another being that is completely dependent on you. This is common, but not widely talked about, as there is this pressure for moms to love every second of taking care of a newborn. I became more lost than I was prior to my pregnancies. My son was born in 2019, and my daughter in 2022. COVID hit shortly after my son was born. I had been working in the social services field at a non-profit organization, assisting low-income individuals with obtaining housing. The agency where I worked received millions upon millions of dollars in COVID grants for rental and mortgage assistance. It was absolute chaos. In the midst of this chaos, my supervisor resigned (I do not blame her whatsoever), and I interviewed for the supervisor position. I was motivated to receive a promotion because we wanted to have another baby. I got the position, and our agency just kept on receiving endless grant money. I was the program manager, overseeing all of our regular programs (which was around 10-15), and I was also responsible for handling the several COVID grants we had. If one of the grants was close to running out of money, we were simply given more money. We helped a lot of people in need, which was wonderful. However, with free assistance comes fraud. Many clients provided false information and documentation in order to qualify for the grants and receive thousands of dollars in rent or mortgage assistance. Part of the eligibility requirements was that the client needed to write a hardship statement explaining how they were financially impacted by COVID, and to provide any form of proof that they might have had (many of the grants did not even require proof of hardship - they just required an explanation). At one point, we were receiving around 20 new applications a day. There were not many of us, either, as it was extremely difficult to hire people at this time. Every week, I read close to 100 hardship statements. I would constantly be helping our team figure out if clients qualified. I met so many clients that were at their wits end, desperate for assistance for their family. My heart broke for them. It was an extremely emotional experience. On the other hand, I felt like a detective, reviewing skeptical applications with a fine-tooth comb to determine if it was fraudulent. I handled situations where clients were aggressive, angry, and disrespectful. Many clients harassed us trying to get their application approved, and would become upset with us in the process. Hundreds upon hundreds of phone calls, voicemails, emails. Clients coming to the building in person to curse us out. I dealt with this stress every single day - postpartum after my son was born, throughout my pregnancy with my daughter, and postpartum after my daughter was born. Trying to maintain my pumping schedule, trying to not let the stress affect my milk supply, trying to handle client situations, trying to handle employee situations…I reached my breaking point. I had a mental crisis and hit rock bottom. The scariest part of it all was this fog that I felt all the time, like I was dissociating from myself. Shortly after, I left my job and the toxic environment behind. The aftermath from my mental breakdown was one of the most difficult things I have ever gone through in my life. I knew that I was a good person to my core, so why did this happen? I knew there must be a piece to the puzzle of myself that I was not finding. Why could I not figure it out? I knew that in order to recover and live a happy life, I needed to figure out what was causing these scary issues. I entered the world of personal development, and went on a journey of growth. I was on a mission to discover what my core issues were, so that I could finally fix them. 

This was in March of 2023. As time went on and I walked through my self-help journey, I made significant progress with my mental health. In October of 2023, I got a job as a bilingual health coach at a remote healthcare startup. I really enjoyed this job for a while, especially because I was able to finally use my Spanish more than ever before - it was the first time I actually allowed myself to make a career choice that involved a passion of mine! But the job kept moving further away from actual health coaching, and closer to feeling like a sales position. As I mentioned in the beginning, this company unfortunately made poor financial decisions, causing them to crumble. Their main focus became hitting these unattainable metrics in order for the company to be able to stay afloat. It ended up clashing with my values so much that I left the job earlier this month (it is currently June of 2025). Then, a few days later, the company laid off about half of its employees. It turns out, this ending was a blessing in disguise, as I had gotten off of a sinking ship. Do I believe that I would have been one of the ones that was laid off, and therefore could have applied for unemployment? Yes. But I try to not think of that, especially because in the long-run I am glad that I left on my own terms. 

Over the last few weeks, I have been working so hard on myself, to figure out what to do next. I made a promise to myself that I would not just jump into another job, and I would take a little bit of time for self-discovery. I have done hours of reflection, meditation, praying, and journaling. I have listened to and have read personal development content from the experts in the field. Through my self-work and self-reflection of my life back to childhood, I have realized that a major portion of my mental health issues were the result of my true self being continuously stifled. The real me began to get buried after my dad passed away. I was not as happy and carefree as I used to be, after all of the awful things I experienced when my dad was sick. I developed crippling anxiety and depression. I became so fearful of everything. This is when I started to be codependent on other people, and external factors, in order to feel positive or safe. I stopped writing, I stopped doing artwork. I stopped letting myself enjoy my passions, and instead I tried to force myself to enjoy other people’s passions. I lost myself, my creativity, and my spirit. I ignored my intuition. All of the things that made me unique no longer had a voice. The light within me gradually became dimmer and dimmer over the years, until it finally was extinguished. No wonder I have felt lost for so many years. No wonder I feel like I am not aligned, like something is off. I have been enduring an internal battle for 20 years. My true self needed to be uncovered. 

So I have been focusing on allowing myself to be me again. It sounds cheesy, because we hear things like this all the time: “Be yourself”, “Do what makes you happy”, “Don’t worry what others think”, etc. But sometimes those types of sayings don’t really resonate while you are in the thick of it. I took everything back to the basics. What do I actually enjoy? What are MY opinions, regardless of anyone else’s input? What are MY passions, no matter how trivial or random they are? I started to get back into drawing, coloring, writing, reading, singing. I let myself be fully passionate about Spanish, and practice out loud when others are around. In just this short period of time, I am feeling a spark inside me coming back. My spirit is saying “Finally! Thank you for acknowledging me!” I’m going to keep being myself, and doing things that I love. I’m excited to see how much more progress I can make. 

If you ignore your passions, your creativity, your opinions, and your overall true personality, you become a shell of yourself. I’m so grateful that even though I reached the point of a mental breakdown, that there was this part of me deep down that was still fighting to be heard. And I’m especially glad that I finally started listening to it again. I can’t wait to provide an update on my progress, as I continue on this difficult but absolutely rewarding path to self-discovery.