Rebranding the Dream

I remember my first full-fledged anxiety attack so vividly.

I made an honest mistake at work one day. I truly thought I was doing something right – I had seen my superiors set the example. I was so excited to follow their example. But one thing went wrong. I was so disappointed with myself for not seeing the future and preventing the unknown from happening. But I couldn’t show it. I had to follow protocol, stay professional. I was a public face. I had to stay calm. After the event wrapped up, I met up with my coworker who set the example. I was still transitioning out of the public face I had to wear and coming to really feel some feelings about what just happened. I wanted to talk to them about it.

That’s when I got yelled at. By someone I respected immensely. Someone I wanted to be when I grew up. I was scolded, told that my calm attitude was wrong, invalid, and straight up inappropriate. That I ruined everything. That I had no idea how badly I messed up. I had to stand there and take it. My face turned numb. I had to return to the public eye mere minutes after that verbal abuse. The mere minutes after that, I get news that my dog was covered in tumors.

It felt like it came on so fast. In retrospect, it was a very slow and steady buildup. I had no tools, no help, no idea that I was suffering from two mental illnesses. And in that moment, I was hyperventilating. Sobbing. Gasping. Trying to hide this incredibly embarrassing moment from the person who pushed me over the edge.

I was sent out to my car to calm down, then return back to work.

That was the day I started toying with the idea, “maybe my dream job isn’t so dreamy anymore.”

There’s so much that goes into a decision like this one. One that closes the door on an opportunity you sought after your entire life. One that you hoped and prayed you’d be able to accomplish someday.

That’s heavy stuff. At the time of writing this, I’ve been out of the field for almost 2 years. Yet, I have stopped to wipe my tears and do calming breath work three times now.

I was in the field for 3 1/2 years. I know this may not seem in line with the tone of this story so far, but I am so proud of the work I did in those years.

I was really good at what I did. I loved it, I lived it.

But it did not love me back.

What a hard thing to accept. And when you’re trapped in a feedback loop of praise —> opportunity —-> rejection , it can be pretty hard to get to that acceptance on your own. Darn near impossible, actually. Remember, this is my dream job after all. I’m probably just overly sensitive, right?

No. I’m perfectly sensitive. It makes me, me. The environment I was in for 3 1/2 years was not conducive to what makes me myself. My team’s support seemed to stop at the gates when we left for the day.

I am always looking to grow. I want to always be learning. It wasn’t until I left my job that I realized I don’t need anyone’s permission to want to achieve more. It was often perceived that way. I would be praised, placed on a pedestal as a shining example of what should be, then when it came to opportunities of growth? I was snuffed.

I was constantly chasing opportunities for growth that continuously deflated right before my nose.

“How can I improve?”

“You’re doing great! Keep it up, you’ll get there!”

I believed that for so long. I kept convincing myself that it just wasn’t meant to be each and every time I was told to stay where I was.

But after that anxiety attack incident, I had a nice long talk with my brain.

The way you’re being treated? None of it is your fault, Becca.

The reason you’re not able to grow? You don’t have a supportive team that believes in you. They don’t want to lose a perfectly agreeable sidekick.

That’s when I decided I didn’t want to be the sidekick anymore.

4 years of college, internship hours, a lifetime of work to come to this conclusion. It was devastating, heartbreaking, and for a while, I felt like I let everyone down.

But guess what? I have since learned how to change the narrative.

I entered college knowing exactly what I wanted to study, exactly what I wanted to do with my degree.

Then I freaking got my dream job right out of college.

I left on good terms. I left on my own accord. It just so happened I had a sick family member that needed some live in help, so I put in my resignation letter, packed up for a week long professional growth workshop, then spent some time with family away from a place that I had once dreamed of, but now feared.

I’m in a much better place now, mentally and physically. I have the clarity and the tools and the support system I need to work through the grief and trauma of this situation. It’s been hard. And it continues to be.

But I’m so, so proud of myself.

I guess this is what happens when it’s 2am and you still can’t fall asleep.