“Taking a Chance on Myself” - Leaving What I Worked So Hard to Build

There’s a moment in everyone’s life where the whisper inside gets louder than the fear.

A moment where comfort stops feeling like comfort and starts feeling like a cage you’ve outgrown.

For me, that moment came after years of climbing the ladder of titles. It came after years of pouring myself into systems, teams, crises, staff, meetings, clients, buildings, audits, policies, budgets, and programs that relied on me more than I relied on myself.

Having the quote on quote “boss title” was so important to me. I was chasing it. I went from clinical supervisor roles to Clinical Director roles to Director of Mental Health & Clinical Services and overseeing multiple programs at once.

It was a title I fought for.

Sacrificed for.

Was so damn proud of.

A title that validated my grind, my heart, my leadership, my identity.

And then… I walked away. Life events happened and I realized I was in a position that did not care what I was going through. Not to mention, the stress was killing me it felt like. I went from feeling like I was cruising and crushing the role to being in the hospital three different times due to “stroke like symptoms” towards the end of my career.

 Taking a chance on myself meant letting go of the very stability I had built.

 Leaving my position wasn’t just a career change….it was a shedding of an identity.

It was saying goodbye to the version of me who thought title meant safety, who thought responsibility meant worth, who thought leadership meant holding everything together even when I was falling apart.

It meant stepping down from something I knew how to do,  something I was good at…into a space where I was suddenly a beginner again.

I didn’t just step off the ladder.

I stepped into the unknown.

Taking a chance on myself meant grieving.

 People don’t talk about the grief that comes with leaving a role you poured your entire self into.

I grieved the routine.

The staff I mentored.

The programs I helped build.

The clients whose stories changed me.

The structure that kept me grounded.

I grieved the version of me who found purpose in keeping everything together, even when it was breaking me.

 I grieved what I thought my career “should” look like.

Taking a chance on myself meant starting from square one.

One day I was a director responsible for major programs, staff, strategy, budgets, and systems.

The next day I was Googling:

“How to start a private practice.”

“How to file for an LLC.”

“What needs to go on a therapy website?”

“How do I even get clients?”

Suddenly I wasn’t the expert. I wasn’t the leader in the room. I wasn’t the go-to person. And to be honest, that really hit hard for me. I love being needed and being the person that everyone went to. Even if at times it drove me absolutely crazy.

I was the newbie again.The student. The learner.

The woman standing at the beginning of a path she’d never walked.

And it was terrifying.

 But it was mine.

Taking a chance on myself meant trusting that my purpose was bigger than my title.

 The mental health world taught me everything:

How to lead. How to show up for people.How to handle crisis.How to supervise, create, manage, advocate, and build.

 But it also taught me something else:

I was outgrowing the system I once felt called to serve.

I wanted more freedom.

More creativity.

More alignment.

More autonomy.

More space to build something with my heart and my name attached to it.

I wanted a life I didn’t need to recover from every weekend.

I wanted to help people in a way that felt sustainable and authentic to who I am now not who I was five years ago.

Taking a chance on myself meant honoring the whisper that said, “There is more for you.”

There is a very specific fear that comes with choosing yourself.

A fear that tells you:

“What if you fail?”

“What if no one comes?”

“What if you were safer where you were?”

“What if this is too big for you?”

But there is also a truth, just beneath the fear:

What if this is the life you were meant to live?

So I listened to the truth.

I walked away.

I let myself start again.

I let myself be new.

I let myself be afraid.

I let myself dream.

Taking a chance on myself meant building something I can call my own.

A private practice is more than a business.

It’s a reclaiming.

It’s choosing: my voice, my vision, my boundaries, my pace, my values, and ultimately my joy.

It’s choosing a life that lets me be present with my family, with my health, with myself.

It’s choosing freedom over fear.

Alignment over approval. Purpose over position.

So what does taking a chance on myself look like now? 

It looks like:

              •            building a practice from scratch

              •            making mistakes and learning as I go

              •            trusting myself in ways I never have before

              •            finding my confidence in new places

              •            honoring the woman who outgrew who she was expected to be

              •            stepping into who I was always meant to become

I’m no longer chasing titles.

I’m building a life.

 And I finally feel like I’m home.