After years in private practice, I worried that stepping away meant failure. I worried that by letting go of long-term therapy work, I was letting go of my identity. But what I’ve found in my new job is something I didn’t know I was missing: relief, purpose, and peace. I now work as a behavioral health specialist in an emergency department at a hospital.

I still help people—but now, in a way that doesn’t consume me. Most of the people I meet are poor, overwhelmed, and hurting. Many are grateful just to be heard. In these brief but meaningful encounters, I see how much can be done in a single moment of kindness, clarity, or calm.

There’s something sacred about being needed—but not needed forever.

I no longer carry the weight of long-term emotional labor. I offer what I can in the time I have, and then I let go. There’s no pressure to be someone’s “everything,” no insurance panels to chase, no unpaid hours or blurred boundaries. Instead, I have something I hadn’t felt in years: a consistent paycheck, benefits, and the ability to leave work at work.

It turns out that stability is healing too.

The ED didn’t strip me of my identity as a therapist. It reminded me that I am more than a title or a treatment plan. That showing up for people in their hardest moments—even briefly—can be enough. That I can still be useful, present, and effective, without losing myself in the process.

This chapter has given me back:

• My evenings
• My mental clarity
• My belief in the good I can do without running on empty

And above all, it has reminded me that I’m allowed to make choices that are good for me—even if they look different than what I imagined.

I didn’t fail by leaving private practice.

I reclaimed my life.