I Have a Journalism Degree but I'm Not A Journalist

After getting my bachelor’s degree in journalism from a top university in Texas and attempting twice to get a master’s in journalism from two different schools, I have learned one important thing.

I don’t want to be a journalist.

Well, I guess I learned more than just one thing. A funny thing I’ve realized about learning lessons is that it’s rarely ever easy. Sometimes something dramatic has to happen to knock us off our current path before we can stagger to our feet and try again. For me, that something is my mental health.

I was first diagnosed with anxiety and depression when I was nineteen years old, between my freshman and sophomore years of college. That diagnosis changed my life. It changed my outlook, attitudes, and perspectives. It changed me.

However, I stuck with my journalism degree from freshman to senior year. I loved my hands-on courses. I loved my professors. I loved storytelling through photography and the written word. I was going to become an editor of my own magazine someday.

I was told that finding a job after college and navigating the career market in my field would be hard. They weren’t kidding. After struggling for months and chasing opportunity after opportunity, I became discouraged.

Then someone took a chance on me. A local entrepreneurial consultant saw a struggling but determined woman in her early twenties and asked me to be his assistant. I was apprehensive. I’d been trained as a journalist and knew nothing about administration. But this man picked me. He could have had any smart student from the local college. But he chose me. And so I accepted. This astounds me to this day.

Because of that chance, I discovered my knack for administrative work. It didn’t come easy. My broken brain was able to work with what I had to do the best that I could. My time management improved. I learned to ask questions. Most importantly, I started to gain confidence again. Both in myself and in my abilities.

Eventually, all good things must come to an end and my position was no exception. I attempted to work my way into retail and try grad school. Those years were hell on earth. To make a long story short, I encountered roadblock after roadblock and it took everything for my brain not to shatter into a million pieces. But I learned how to work with people. I learned the importance of swift accuracy. I learned patience.

But enough was enough. One mental breakdown at Chipotle later and I was done.

Last October, after a brief stint as a freelance writer and social media research intern, I was approached with a familiar offer. A dean at the local university reached out and asked me if I needed a job. The role? A full-time administrative assistant position. I was apprehensive and unsure once again. Full-time? I was used to part-time only. How could I sit in front of a computer all day?

I applied and interviewed. A week or so later, I got the call while eating at my favorite restaurant in town. I almost screamed, right there in front of everyone.

I was given another chance.

Everything has a learning curve. But the most important thing is to be willing to learn. To be willing to be taught. To be willing to listen.

I am not a journalist. But I’m still determined to write. I still want to take my storytelling skills and put them to use. I want to use everything I’ve learned to work with and help others, as well as push myself to be the best me I can be.

Yesterday I found out that I had been accepted into my college’s Master’s of Business Administration program. Once again, a chance to try something new. I start this summer.

The journey is all about learning. The journey is all about discovery. The only thing we can expect is that the journey is unexpected.

I am not a journalist. But that’s okay. I am still breathing and I still believe I have a purpose on this planet. And I’m on the journey to figuring that out.