Becoming a 🦋

letting my inner child play everyday

When the Old Roads End

I used to think I just needed a break. That once the burnout passed and the healing was done, I’d come back to a healthy, balanced place in design, a place that cared about creativity the way I do. I told myself it was just a couple of bad workplaces. It couldn’t be the whole industry, right? Maybe I’d just had bad luck.

But these last two months of applying for jobs in tech have taught me something hard and honest: the world doesn’t pause for your healing. Life keeps moving, and sometimes it hits you hardest when you’re already on your knees. Only the brave keep going. Only the ones with a clear “why” can see rejection not as a wall, but as a sign that maybe the door ahead was never meant to open.

For twelve years, I’ve been forcing those doors open—pushing, proving, performing the same old dance. And I’m tired. I’ve fought with grit, tears, and sweat to get here. I’m not a nepo baby; I’m the daughter of an immigrant who came to this country so I could build a better life. For a long time, my dream was about titles, paychecks, and proving my worth, showing the world how shiny I could be.

Was that materialistic? Absolutely. Was it wrong? Maybe not.

That version of me was doing her best, chasing what she thought mattered. I’m grateful for her.

But today, I’m somewhere different—humbled, stripped down, and somehow still standing. These past months have tested my identity, my values, and my sense of worth. I don’t have it all figured out, but I do know this: I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.

The new artistic road I’m walking doesn’t promise money or status, at least not yet. But it’s mine. It’s uncharted and a little terrifying, and still, I feel a fire inside me that hasn’t burned like this in years. Not for the past, but for what’s next. It won’t be easy or fast, and I might lose everything I once thought mattered. But I’m more alive now, in the painful chaos of transformation, than I’ve ever been.

Hopefully soon, I’ll have better news to share. But for now, I’m here—trusting the unknown, learning a new dance.

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