When You Know It's Time

From the moment we become aware of the world around us, we start hearing whispers about our future. In some Chinese and Korean traditions, babies are presented with objects on their first birthday, and what they pick is said to predict their destiny. In Western culture, the signs are more subtle but just as present. Parents open college funds, teachers praise us for being “good at math” or “so creative,” and slowly, a quiet expectation settles in: Your job will define your life.

It becomes the great unifier. The question that hums beneath our day-to-day: What am I? Who am I? And what will I do that matters while I’m here?

I was always a good student. Grades felt like a reflection of my worth. I chased perfection on paper. Honor roll, clubs, extracurriculars.. believing success was just on the other side of a degree. So I did the “right” thing. I moved from Pennsylvania to Florida at seventeen, certain I’d become something. I got the degree. I played the part. And I racked up a lovely amount of debt along the way. But it was fine. I had made it.

Until one quiet night, it hit me: I’m not happy.

I had the job that matched my degree, but it didn’t fill me. My friends had moved back home. I was alone in a city that no longer felt like mine, asking, Is this it? All the movies, all the glossy brochures of adulthood had promised fulfillment if I just followed the rules. I had. And still, something was missing.

So I changed the script.

I picked up a serving job, something totally outside my realm, to meet people and chip away at my debt. And that one small decision shifted everything. In that restaurant, I met people from every walk of life. I learned things I was never taught in school: how to manage chaos with grace, how to read a room, how to really see people. My psychology degree taught me theory. Serving taught me how to apply it.

I met travelers, creatives, and wanderers. People who worked to live, not lived to work. They weren’t trapped by titles or timelines. They saved, they explored, they learned. They saw serving as a bridge, not a dead end. So I followed their lead.

Success, to me, used to mean ticking the boxes: job, house, partner. Now it means something else. It means filling my cup with life. Watching a sunset in a new place, trying a flavor I’ve never had, listening to a stranger’s story, and feeling changed by it. It means being soft and strong, curious and kind. I don’t want to be remembered by a title. I want to be remembered by my laugh, by the way I love my people, by the way I see the world through my lens.

And let’s be real.. It’s not always easy. Choosing an untraditional path can feel like swimming upstream. While friends get engaged or buy homes, you might be deciding between cereal or mac and cheese for dinner. There’s pressure. There’s fear. There’s a comparison. But when I stopped measuring my life by someone else’s milestones, I found peace in my own pace. I am now chipping away at a master’s degree to help people’s overall wellbeing. I want to be someone people feel comfortable with, feel my empathy and warmth and can also give them hard truths when warranted. It’s always been a goal of mine and I am happy I took a break to find what felt right to me in this chapter.

Contentment is a rebellious act in a world that profits off our dissatisfaction. It takes work to unlearn and relearn what matters to you. For me, that meant reshaping my life around joy, not expectation. It meant tossing out the name tag that tried to shrink me down to just one thing. We are layered. We are ever-changing. We are becoming.

Reflecting on how I got here, I realize I am twenty-six and still feel nineteen. And every woman I know says the same. We never really outgrow our insecurities or dreams; we just carry them differently. These days, I care less about saving for “someday” and more about savoring the now. A new coffee flavor. The warmth of a hug from a friend. The sun on my skin.

I don’t have all the answers, and I’m not claiming this path is for everyone. What I do know is that whatever road you’re on, there is always room to pivot. No decision is too small. No moment is too late. Your life belongs to you, and the plot twists are often the best parts.

So buckle up. I’m cheering for you. I’m proud of you. And I hope, more than anything, you know you’re not alone.

Cheers to you.<3

Rheana