Recognizing the Need for Career Transformation

You often know it’s time to switch careers when your work feels mechanical. At fifty-five, while serving as a family therapist in a suburb of Philadelphia, I encountered this realization.

The first indication of my exhaustion came when I accidentally scheduled two clients for the same time slot. I remember apologizing profusely to both clients in the waiting area at 3 p.m., feeling their disappointment. It was disheartening to think that I might have disrupted their therapeutic journey, particularly for the one who urgently needed assistance and decided to reschedule.

This wasn’t an isolated incident. Some of my patients were unsure if I was coming or going. If I were in their shoes, I would have sought a new therapist immediately. After all, who would want to continue with someone so disorganized?

But it didn’t stop there. I missed multiple appointments, misjudging traffic on I-95 more than once, which led to cancellations that I had to communicate to the office secretary. On another occasion, I neglected to add a patient to my calendar. The universe was sending me a clear message: It was time to pursue a different career, one that would reignite my happiness. It was time to allow a younger, more driven therapist to take my place.

I realized my heart was no longer invested in therapy. The passion I once had for helping individuals, couples, and families had faded. Continuing in this role would not benefit either my clients or myself.

Reflecting back to 1982, after earning my Master’s in Health Counseling, I worked at a facility for eating disorders. I vividly remember watching a family therapist conduct a session through a glass window, recording it for review later. I aspired to emulate the pioneers in the field—figures like Whitaker, Minuchin, and Virginia Satir—who were renowned family therapists. My education led me to graduate from two esteemed family therapy programs, where I earned post-graduate certificates.

In the early 1990s, Pennsylvania began licensing family therapists, and I was thrilled to be among the first to receive my license. It marked one of the happiest moments of my life. Later, I became certified to supervise other therapists.

However, after three decades in the profession, both as a therapist and supervisor, I found myself lacking new challenges, leading to a decline in my passion. While I took pride in my achievements, I felt unfulfilled, as if there were no further goals left for me in this field.

Therapy sessions began to feel interminable, and I often found myself longing for a nap. I noticed my impatience growing, listening to clients as their voices became monotonous or overly loud. It wasn’t their fault; I appreciated their efforts to seek help. Yet, as I gazed outside at the serene stream in the park, thoughts of starting a fresh chapter filled my mind.

In those final months, I tried to maintain a facade of professionalism. Dressed in traditional khakis, polished black shoes, and a smart sweater, I walked deliberately from the office to the waiting room, attempting to project positivity despite my internal discontent. A therapist is expected to exude enthusiasm and motivation, but inside, I yearned for the comfort of home, where I could unwind with music.

It was a sad realization to witness my career slipping away.

Then came the moment of clarity: during a therapy session, I felt the earth tremble beneath me. It was an earthquake—something I had never experienced in my many years in Southeastern Pennsylvania. This event became another sign for me. It felt as though the universe was guiding me toward the land of earthquakes, California.

After the double-booking incident, the tremor, missed appointments, and daydreaming during sessions, I recognized that my time as a therapist had come to a close. I submitted my thirty-day notice and set my sights on California, joining countless others seeking to transform their lives. Unlike them, I wasn’t chasing wealth or fame, but rather a renewed sense of purpose and vitality. I envisioned a sunny, warm environment that could rejuvenate my weary spirit. It would undoubtedly be challenging, yet I believed it would be mentally and physically restorative.

Ironically, obtaining my Family Therapy license was one of the happiest days of my life—just as relinquishing it to embark on a creative writing journey has become another joy.

P.S. I still cherish my clients and send them positive thoughts whenever possible.

Here's a therapeutic poem by Mark —

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Chapter 1: The Signs of Burnout

In this chapter, I delve into the early signs that signaled my need for change.

Section 1.1: The Double Booking Incident

Accidentally scheduling two clients for the same time was a pivotal moment that made me question my career path.

Subsection 1.1.1: The Impact on My Clients

Chapter 2: A New Beginning

The first video, "How to Change Careers - Everything You Need to Know," provides insights and tips for making a successful career transition.

The second video, "How to Change Your Career After 50," offers valuable advice for those looking to shift their professional paths later in life.