My Biggest Mistake and Best Advice

I have few true regrets. My experiences have made me who I am today, and I don’t want to know who I’d be without them. When I think about what I would change if I could, I only think about my own poor decisions and behavior. In this month of graduations and Mother’s Day, I want to share the full cautionary tale of my single biggest mistake: not planning for a long-term career.

To say I grew up in a traditional household is an understatement. My father has always been the breadwinner, and though she has a bachelor’s degree, my mom stayed home to raise my two siblings and me. Throughout my childhood, my dad repeatedly imparted to us that a wife should not have to work if she didn’t want to, even if that meant the husband worked several jobs; and that it was flat-out wrong for a mother to work full-time, because kids needed a parent at home. I definitely benefited from my mom’s full attention, and I’m thankful my parents loved us (and each other) and had the means and desire to actually parent us. Thankfully, they also told me from an early age that they expected me to get a college degree. But that degree and any career I would have was framed as a contingency plan, a way to support myself until I started my “real” job of wifehood and motherhood.

In college, I became part of a very conservative Christian denomination. Their teachings about women and submission escalated my dad’s philosophies to a spiritual mandate. When I married, my whole existence would be secondary to what was best for my husband and kids. I bought in, and so at the very moment when I had the most power over the trajectory of my future, I forfeited it. Looking back, I know the bottom line was fear. While I was afraid of poverty if I pursued a career I actively wanted (my natural talents and interests have never lain in lucrative areas), I was equally afraid of finding a career I loved and inevitably having to give it up. If that happened, I might not be able to sacrifice cheerfully. I might resent my family. And I had learned that resentment – and personal ambition – were spiritual poison. So I chose a generic major that I enjoyed, and planned to wait out my remaining single years in a safe office job.

After graduation, I joined a temp agency and shortly landed a permanent position. I didn’t care much about what kind of work it was – I was just happy to have an adult job that paid me enough to get my own place and be independent. At 25, I got married. Around that time, a considerate co-worker took me aside to encourage me to start planning for my future at the company. He asked what areas I might be interested in and talked to me about mentorship and 401Ks. That conversation was another giant road sign that I drove straight past. I appreciated his thoughtfulness and wanted to perform well at my job. But privately, I believed my professional career was almost over. Sure, my husband was still finding himself and relying on my steady income, but soon I’d be able to leave the corporate world, start fulfilling my God-ordained role, and maybe do some creative work on the side. It was right around the corner!

Well, I never made it to the corner. My husband spent the next five years finding himself – in different jobs, different directions, and eventually, different women’s beds. Dealing with all that made me too weary and depressed to take on a career change (the few times I brought up wanting a change, he responded, “Everyone hates their job”). The depression also convinced me I had no marketable skills and no one else would hire me. When my marriage ended, the long, long process of my rebirth began. I decided if career was all I was going to have, this was not enough for the long term. I started pursuing freelance writing and exploring various opportunities within my company and on the side. But I was still unsure of myself, and nothing came of any of it.

I finally reached ten on the pain scale the week of my 35th birthday. A friend accepted an exciting job offer, and I was blindsided by a tidal wave of jealousy and clarity. I suddenly realized I had never confidently gone after anything. I was still playing by the rules I had internalized, being a good girl, submissively marking time in my suburban house and my little cubicle waiting for God to “provide” for me. For the first time ever, I understood my own strength and autonomy. I was ready to burn the old narrative and write a new story for myself. When I talked to my parents about it, they told me that whatever I wanted, they would be there to help me make it happen. Their support was the last push I needed to start upending my life.

Within a year, I had moved into the heart of the city, found a more progressive church, and tried to start dating again. But no career development was panning out, outside or inside my company. In fact, my existing job was becoming more constrained and stressful. I had a panicked sense that a window was starting to close. I couldn’t stop working and go back to school, but I decided to register for the Certified Paralegal exam. My title had just been changed to paralegal, and I saw no downside in trying to become a real one on my own. I’ve always tested well and had nothing to lose except the fee!

Thankfully, I got my CP credential in November 2016 on the first try. With demonstrable proof that I wasn’t a one-trick pony, recruiters suddenly started calling. I believed in my own worth in a new way. When another big corporation invited me to interview, I was hesitant at first. But the people were great, and most importantly, the company seemed truly committed to developing its employees. If nothing else, I would have options for learning and advancement. So, almost six months ago, I accepted their offer and made the jump, knowing it was the next right step.

“The next right step” is my general philosophy these days. I have no idea what my life might look like in five years, or what I might be doing. But I’m fully aware and alert to opportunities, and I don’t intend to let them pass me by. I’m increasingly passionate about calling out a warning to younger women – especially young Christian women. I doubt most of them are as naïve as I was, but I’m compelled to say anyway:

♥ Don’t hide your light under a bushel. You are an individual created in the image of God with unique traits and abilities, some of which might fall outside the narrow confines of what Christian culture defines as a woman’s role. God did not give you those gifts by accident. He does not require your passivity. He does not expect you to make a permanent ghost of yourself in the name of submission and humility. He wants everything you bring to the table, so bring it with confidence.

♥ Don’t hand over the steering wheel. Yes, seek wise counsel and be humble, but YOU are the one who has to live with the outcomes of your decisions, so don’t let anyone decide for you.

♥ Don’t bet everything on factors outside your control. The only path you have any control over is your own. Leave room for hopes and dreams involving other people, but don’t make them your Plan A. Expect to stand on your own two feet.

♥ Don’t expect things to unfold exactly as you plan, even if you plan well. Unforeseen turns are part of what makes life interesting. Be open to changing directions.

♥ Don’t be afraid to fail. Failure is a great teacher and the only way to get really good at anything. Sometimes the right choice involves failure. As my poet laureate Lin-Manuel Miranda once said:

When you got skin in the game, you stay in the game
But you don’t get a win unless you play in the game
Oh, you get love for it. You get hate for it
You get nothing if you wait for it, wait for it

If I’d had this good foundation and some assertiveness at 22, I could have been building something meaningful all this time. I try not to think about the skills I’d have or what I could be achieving right now. I do believe that nothing is wasted, but I still grieve the years I can’t get back and the fact that I will always be behind. The only way I can redeem the time is to encourage others not to make the same mistakes. If you love something, go after it. Take the opportunities that are within your grasp. Be the protagonist of your own life, not just a supporting character in someone else’s. Don’t wait for life to happen to you.