It took four years of me exploring new cities and various jobs after college to realize what I wanted to do for a career. The idea struck me in a “light bulb moment” (or “ladybug moment” as I like to say) one morning while riding the Chicago “L” train to work. The years of confusion over what I would do when I grew up suddenly appeared as if someone opened my head and dropped the answer inside. I would go back to school to become a social worker.

I did not know much about social work before this moment, but something about the idea just seemed to fit. I needed to learn more about it.

Two flimsy gray walls, three filing cabinets and one rarely used dry-erase board make up the landscape of my work cubicle. My mind travels often to places I have been and those I long to see, yet this is the daily scenery starving my adventurous soul.

I used to love my job. That was before it became three positions in one.