My career was stolen from me
For a time, I felt my first career was stolen from me. But today I reflect on how maybe I made more conscious choices and exercised more agency than I realized.
My first career was youth ministry. I went to school for this and moved several times for it. I ran some pretty complicated ministries in some pretty major cities.
I loved youth ministry, and there were times when it felt like the perfect job for me. I got to be with people, I got to perform (keeping middle schoolers engaged requires regular performance!), I got to teach, I got to be creative, and I got to exercise my executive function in the day-to-day vision casting and running of the ministry.
It also just so happens that I like teenagers. And this is a demographic that most people try to avoid at all costs. For a couple years, I sat on the youth committee for the denomination’s national convention. I was a woman with a seminary degree, so this made me a bit of a unicorn in the ministry world, and I didn’t have trouble getting interviews when I was looking for new jobs. I even had churches seeking me out.
Then, within the span of a few months, it all came tumbling down.
I resigned from the church I was working for because toxicity and abuse were impacting my physical health, not to mention my mental health. I was already in a few conversations with churches by the time I left, and I felt sure I would have a new job in youth ministry before long.
But one interview after another, something in my gut just didn’t sit right. I couldn’t put my finger on exactly what it was, but it was intense enough that I decided to take a break from interviewing, committing to revisit it after I had given myself some time to recover from the job I had left.
I told myself I was taking a break, when really I knew it was over. I just couldn’t face that reality yet.
The explanation I gave myself was that I was just traumatized and needed to heal before I could go back to working for another church. Now I can say that with the extended break, all of the questions and contradictions and discomfort I had while working for the church had a chance to bubble to the surface. I couldn’t ignore the toxicity in the institutional church any longer, and after a year, I knew I couldn’t go back.
For a time I felt like this job I loved was stolen from me because of abuse and trauma. And I guess that’s one way to look at it. But today, if you took out all the toxicity and abuse and offered me a job in youth ministry, I would say no without blinking.
Six years later, I can observe that that career ended on a tragic note and I wish it hadn’t ended like that, even though it wasn’t my fault. And it’s incredibly surreal to think the life I’ve created for myself—a life that I love quite a lot—no longer has room for youth ministry and the lifestyle that work requires.
Things happen that change the trajectory of our lives. Some things are outside of our control. But just because something we love is taken from us doesn’t mean there aren’t new things to love.
I grieve the loss of my first career. But I also am delighted with the career I’m building now. I don’t regret the time that I spent in youth ministry, but I hands down would never go back.
Many things can be true at the same time. And often we have more choice than we realize.
If you’ve experienced a career loss, I’m curious how you see that loss now? What did it lead to for you? What doors did it open?
If you’re an ambitious or creative woman looking for trauma-informed support while your navigate your life and future: