QUARTER LIFE CHAOS: How My Crisis Returned Me to Myself
"You’re 25... what could you possibly be stressed about?"
If I had a dollar for every time I heard that, I probably wouldn’t have needed to quit my job in the first place. And sure, from the outside looking in, 25 is young. I have my whole life ahead of me. But that’s never how I’ve felt.
I’ve always carried a weight on my shoulders that made me feel older than I was. Becoming a mom at 19 accelerated that even more. I had one year of “freedom” after high school before everything changed. One year of doing what I wanted without worrying about anyone else. And then—boom—I found out I was pregnant.
I’ll never forget that day. It was surreal. At 20, I gave birth to my son—two weeks after my birthday—and had to grow up fast. Like really fast.
College, Chaos, and the Curveball
I was in class three days after giving birth. No exaggeration. I literally left the hospital and drove an hour to campus to pick up my books. (Why I didn’t have them shipped? I’ll never know.)
I didn’t even feel aligned with college. I had no desire to live in a dorm or deal with roommates—just not my vibe. But I went anyway, mostly because after finding out I was pregnant, I wanted more for myself. I wasn’t sure what that “more” was, but I knew I needed it.
At the time, I thought I wanted to work in medicine—maybe a physician assistant. But after taking a business elective, something clicked. I fell in love with the idea of building something of my own. And that was the beginning of my obsession with entrepreneurship.
Living Someone Else’s Plan
When I was younger, I had a whole vision for my life by 18 or 19: married, five kids, career on lock. (Spoiler: none of that happened.)
By 24, I was working in the dental field—a job I didn’t hate, but one that drained my soul. I loved the industry, loved my coworkers, but every time I sat down to “click-clack” on that keyboard, I felt like I was in a simulation. Like my life was slipping through my fingers in the form of insurance codes and angry patients.
I remember thinking, Is this it?
Is this what people settle for—20+ years of robotic workdays, hoping retirement comes before your spirit fully gives up?
My Breaking Point
I had a vacation planned—three weeks off. I mentioned it at work, didn’t sugarcoat it, and got written up before I even left. That was just the beginning. My son, who has special needs, had therapies scheduled, and I needed to adjust my hours.
Instead of understanding, they hit me with another write-up. "You don't ask—you tell." You’re damn right I tell. I’m not asking permission to care for my son.
At that point, I was juggling real estate, too. They told me I had to prioritize them. I was like, Prioritize YOU over my child and my dreams? Absolutely not.
I drafted my resignation email... then hesitated. Until my son—true story—hit the keyboard and sent it for me. I took it as a sign. That was my last 9–5 job. And I’ve never looked back.
Everyone Had an Opinion... and I Stopped Listening
Of course, my family panicked. "What are you going to do now? Go back to school? Get another job?"
Nope. I was finally going to do what I wanted.
One of the biggest lessons I learned? Don’t let people who’ve never bet on themselves project their fears onto you. Just because they gave up on their dreams doesn’t mean I will. And I stopped sharing my plans with anyone who couldn’t hold space for my vision.
Surround yourself with people who see you the way you see yourself. That’s what changed the game for me.
Becoming Her: The Woman I Was Meant to Be
It wasn’t just about leaving a job. It was about shedding a version of myself that wasn’t authentic. I started reconnecting with who I truly was—the dreamer, the visionary, the deeply organized, big-hearted, high-striving version of myself I had tucked away.
I journaled. I went back to therapy. I reflected. I untangled my own beliefs from the ones I was conditioned to carry. I asked: Are these really my thoughts, or were they planted by someone else’s limitations?
I started to reframe everything:
“I can’t succeed as my own boss” became “I already am.”
“I need a real job to be stable” became “I define stability on my own terms.”
Where I Am Now
Since quitting that job in November, I’ve already nearly doubled what I would’ve made there in an entire year. But more than that—I’m free. I can be there for my son. I don’t need to ask permission to live my life.
I stopped explaining myself to people who don’t get it. I stopped asking people who’ve never built something of their own to validate my vision. And I’ve never felt more in alignment with who I am.
For the Girl in Her Quarter-Life Crisis…
If you’re in the thick of it—feeling like you’re spiraling, like nothing makes sense—let me leave you with this:
Reflect. Journal. Do a brain dump. Get to the root of it.
Ask yourself: What beliefs am I holding that don’t belong to me?
Start replacing those lies with truth.
Be your own biggest fan—even when it feels scary.
My quarter-life crisis didn’t ruin me. It returned me.
To my dreams.
To my values.
To my voice.
And I promise—it can do the same for you.