Lately, I’ve been contemplating what my next steps will be when I return to the U.S. at the end of the summer. I won’t lie—just thinking about it triggers overwhelming anxiety, often leaving me in a state of paralysis. This, of course, is counterproductive to what I should be doing: actively seeking opportunities, refining my resume, and submitting applications. The reality is that finding the right job will likely take time, and I need to be proactive.
I keep considering different possibilities—various roles I could step into, whether they align with my previous experience, require learning a new skill, or draw from my educational background. And I’ve realized that there are plenty of options. Over the years, I’ve done everything from cleaning houses to photography to research and data analysis. While I may not be a specialist in any one field, the combination of my knowledge, skills, and experience makes me a valuable asset to any team—or so my cover letter confidently states.
Yet, deep down, I know that what I truly want no longer involves working for someone else.
The most fulfilling work I’ve ever done was counseling people. Though my experience in the field is limited to practicums and an internship during graduate school, those moments stood out as the most meaningful part of my academic journey. I’ve reflected on why that work resonated so deeply with me. People are drawn to therapy, counseling, and coaching for various reasons—not all of them altruistic. Some seek to feed their egos, others desire control, but many genuinely want to help. While I believe I fall into the latter category, I also recognize another, more personal motivator beneath the surface.
At its core, my desire to guide others stems from wanting to become the person I never had. A mentor, a supportive figure, a voice of reassurance—someone who provides the safety and guidance I once longed for.
Even though I haven’t yet completed my master’s degree, I refuse to let that stop me from utilizing the knowledge and skills I’ve gained. Education extends beyond formal degrees; it’s built through experience, observation, and relentless effort to understand life and human nature. I asked myself: What is one thing I needed most during my hardest moments? What resource could have made a difference for me, then and now? The answer was simple—a safe space.
A place of refuge. A sanctuary to turn to when life feels overwhelming, when everything seems to be unraveling, when control slips through your fingers. A space to breathe, to release tension, to feel seen and understood. A gathering place for those who need a moment of stillness amidst the chaos.
That’s exactly what I would call it: Safe Space.
In many ways, we already seek out our own safe spaces—a therapist’s office, a trusted friend’s home, a quiet coffee shop, or even a familiar aisle in TJ Maxx. But safety doesn’t have to be tied to a physical location. The most enduring safe space is the one we cultivate within ourselves. Because, as the saying goes, wherever you go, there you are. And if you don’t feel safe within your own body—if your mind is your harshest critic, if your emotions dictate your every move—then even the most welcoming environments can feel threatening.
What I truly want is to help others build that internal refuge. To guide people in embracing every part of themselves, fostering radical self-acceptance, and cultivating a deep sense of inner peace. Because only through self-compassion can we begin to feel truly safe in the world.
Right now, this remains a vision—a dream with an extensive to-do list that I am slowly, painstakingly working through. But deep down, I believe it will become a reality. With patience, persistence, and small, intentional steps, I know this will come to life.
I want to build this for you, my loves. This is the legacy I wish to create—not just for myself, but for my daughters and for generations to come.
Much love,
XO, Mom
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