When I graduated from high school, I went to college to study English.
Writing and reading had always been something I loved to do. They grounded me and made me feel at home. English was the one subject I liked in school — the one class where I felt confident and at home.
When people asked me what I was going to do with an English degree, I’d say things like “teach” or “I want to get into publishing,” just to sound like I had my life together. But the truth was, all I wanted to do was write. I loved my poetry classes, I journaled every night, and writing a paper felt natural and came easy to me. However, I was told over and over how hard it was to make a living by just writing. So I’d stuff it further and further in the back of my soul because I believed it would be an unattainable goal and that I should come up with a new career choice.
I believed it was something I’d never be able to do
And so, I took a job in the fashion industry after graduating. After all, I loved fashion. It had always been a passion of mine. I soon learned that just because you love something doesn’t mean you should turn it into a career.
I began to hate my job. The hours were relentless. While everyone was playing, I was working. I was living on caffeine and bad takeout and my social life was nonexistent. My job was demanding, and the pressure to keep up was making me resent something I used to love.
After getting married and deciding I’d stay home with our children, I felt like the second part of my life had started. I’d always wanted to be a mother and it felt so right. Yes, it was tiring, but staying home with our three kids gave me purpose, and I was never sorry I’d left my fast-paced career.
I never forgot about writing, though
When my kids were little, I’d sit and write a few ideas for children’s books during their naps. I even wrote one once, then came across it a few months later and threw it away.
When all my kids were in school, it was time for me to get real with myself — I loved my children but being a mother wasn’t enough for me. I wanted more. I wanted to have more of a purpose.
The voice inside me kept telling me that I was almost 40 and that I should just continue to be a mom. I hadn’t worked outside the home in so long, and there wasn’t much out there I could do.
That all changed one Friday night about six years ago
I sat down at my computer to figure out how to get more people to read my blog — something I’d been doing off and on as a hobby — when I started watching a video about how to write for certain websites.
I thought about the facts: I loved to write and I was a mother to three, so writing for parenting websites would be a perfect fit. I stayed up late that night writing an article, and when I hit the submit button, I was full of hope.
I heard back from the editor a few days later, and my story had been rejected. That happened many more times, but I kept at it. I’d send my kids off to school and sit down at my computer and write and keep trying.
When I got my first piece accepted, I was so overjoyed I couldn’t contain my excitement. I told everyone I knew, but more importantly, I kept writing and kept submitting.
I got lots of rejections. I wrote for websites for free. I wrote for places that didn’t pay unless my piece performed well. I’d research local magazines, find out who the editors were, and submit my best pieces to them asking for a shot.
Then, after about eight months of writing, I made enough to pay our mortgage and all of our utilities in one month. That was a huge deal because I hadn’t contributed financially to our family in almost 13 years.
I loved writing so much I never got tired of it. I never run out of things to write about. I poured myself into it.
My dream career didn’t happen until I was over 40
Now, at 46, I’m financially independent as a single mother of three. There isn’t a day that goes by when I don’t think about how fortunate I am to be able to say I truly love what I do, and it has been something that has seen me through some really dark times, like my divorce.
It’s never too late to start something you’ve always wanted to do. It doesn’t even have to be a career. You can do something like running, or learning how to lay tile (which is next on my list of things I want to learn).
It doesn’t matter how many years you’ve been on this earth. All that matters is that you have the willingness to try.
It will be so worth it, I promise. I literally have no idea what my life would be like right now had I not sent out all those stories and ideas and kept bouncing back from the rejections.
Don’t think for one second you're too old to do anything. Think about it: By not trying, it’s never going to happen anyway, so you might as well spend your time doing those things you’ve always wanted to do, or that thing you miss doing but are wondering if it's too late for it. It's not and you should. Just remember, people don’t have an expiration date.
