The Blog
No polished success stories. No toxic positivity. Just honest, practical insights from someone who's been through the pivot — more than once.
“Decide what kind of life you actually want, then say no to everything that isn't that.”
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I was determined this year was going to be better. But once again finding a job proved to be difficult. I found myself at tax contracting company once again doing taxes. It was a little bit better then the previous year. I pretty much remembered everything I learned and was much more confident in my abilities. One thing no one tells you about being a customer service representative is that if your scared the customer can hear it in your voice. The first year I was really scared that they would ask a question that I didn't know the answer too. These 4 months doing taxes went OK. When it was over, I was inspired to look for the nexxt thing.
“Every pivot is proof you haven't given up on yourself.”
For a long time I thought I was the problem. The jobs that didn't work out, the managers who didn't like me, the rooms where I never quite fit. It took years to understand that a strong personality in the wrong culture isn't a flaw. It's a mismatch.
While the healthcare job search continues, I picked up something unexpected: data labeling specialist, training AI models. Flexible hours, work I find genuinely interesting, and a reminder that my path has never gone in a straight line.
I am a certified EKG Tech with a phone screen in two weeks and more questions than answers about what comes next. This is what it looks like to be in the middle of the story.
Almost every EKG tech on the floor had a BS in Exercise Physiology. The pay was $17 an hour. The commute was an hour each way. I have a phone screen coming up — but I'm already asking what comes next.
I finished my cardiac care clinicals and became a certified EKG Technician. I chose an urban hospital. I saw things I wasn't prepared for. And I started asking questions that my ethics class had only scratched the surface of.
I applied to Nuclear Medicine. The interview was a panel of five. I knew within minutes it wasn't going to work — not because of my answers, but because of who was in the room. Another rejection. And a decision to finish what I'd already started.
Spring 2026 was a backup plan semester — phlebotomy and cardiac care, just in case Nuclear Medicine didn't work out. One class nearly broke me. One gave me real confidence. I learned the difference between quitting and protecting yourself.
Fall 2025 was filler classes — ethics, computers in healthcare, public speaking online with a four-person audience requirement. I got a 4.0. And I did some of the deepest thinking I'd done in years.
After the MLT rejection I thought about dropping out. Instead I took A&P 2 with a cardiologist who actually knew how to teach, survived a useless online careers class, and set my sights on something bigger: Nuclear Medicine.
The advisor told me I would surely get into the MLT program. I interviewed, I prepared, I thought I did okay. Then the rejection letter arrived — and suggested I consider graduate school. I already have two graduate degrees.
I finished my first semester back with a 2.63 GPA. C's in both four-credit science courses. Not the grades I wanted. But with my transfer credits, I was eligible to apply to the MLT program. So I did.
I met with an advisor and landed on Medical Technician — lab work, hospital setting, minimal prerequisites. Then I actually started the classes. And my old friends low self-esteem and test anxiety showed up right on time.
I walked into a classroom in January 2025 as a 51-year-old woman with two engineering degrees and a decade of re-entry behind me. I was the oldest person in the room by a wide margin. I didn't care.
I turned 50 in 2023. I had two engineering degrees that weren't opening doors. After years of proving I could work hard for other people's companies, I started asking a different question: what do I actually want to do with the rest of my life?
I applied to a company on LinkedIn without knowing who they really were. It turned out to be a contractor for a massive firm — paying $40 an hour for the same tax work I'd been doing. $25,000 in four months.
I stayed with the tax company through 2023. The job was good. But the bigger story that year wasn't work — it was watching my kids head off to college, knowing you never get that time back.
The state hired me as a cyber security intern. I learned the software, learned to predict threats, and watched a program slowly unravel from the inside. Some people got jobs out of it. I got confirmation that government was exactly as chaotic as I thought.
Great metrics. Awards. A manager I respected. Amazon gift cards for extra hours — which felt better than cash. And a 401k contribution. After everything, I had landed somewhere that recognized what I brought to the table.
I looked for other jobs and didn't find any. When the tax company invited me back for fall season, I said yes. The customers were a different breed — and I learned you can't send a tax link into China.
After years of toxic managers, surveillance cameras, and 90-day trials, I finally landed somewhere good. Great management, work from home, a team I actually liked. The customers were unhinged — but the job itself? The job was great.
I was let go at the end of February 2020. Three weeks later, the whole world shut down. For once, being unemployed wasn't the worst thing happening.
I had two offers. I took the one with the shorter commute. It was the wrong call — and I knew it about two weeks in.
I worked 10-hour days then went straight to lean manufacturing class until 10pm — four weeks straight — to land a job at $18.75 an hour in late 2019. Third shift nearly broke me.
After the chaos of 2016, I finally found a job I kept for two years. A distribution plant, an air-conditioned office, and a schedule that worked for my kids. The catch? Management that treated workers like they were disposable.
Five jobs in one year. The last one — a seasonal UPS gig right before Christmas — turned out to be the one I needed most.
Day one was a Hollywood-style welcome — music, free swag, fancy presentations. By week two, the glitter had worn off completely. And then my son ended up in the hospital.
There's something surreal about walking the halls of a hotel before a single guest has checked in. I got to do that — and it was genuinely one of the coolest experiences of my re-entry journey. The pay, though? That was a different story.
After four months back at tax contracting office doing taxes, I was more confident, less scared, and ready for what came next. 2016 was the year I started believing I could actually get there.
That question used to make me freeze. Now I have an answer that's honest, confident, and actually makes interviewers lean in. Here's exactly what I say.
It's not just 'do I belong here?' It's 'did I ever belong here?' Re-entry imposter syndrome hits differently — and it needs a different fix.
Most LinkedIn advice is written for people who never left. Here's a practical guide built specifically for women returning after a career break.
Readiness is a myth we tell ourselves to stay safe. The women who successfully re-enter the workforce aren't more prepared — they're just more willing to be uncomfortable.
Budget management. Crisis response. Stakeholder communication. You've been doing all of it. Here's how to translate the last few years into language that resonates with hiring managers.
“You are who you train yourself to be, not who you hope to become.”
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