Trusting the process, and finding alignment
As I get further into my 20s, I’m starting to understand how much life is shaped by just a small number of significant events. It’s the rare and important moments where everything shifts. At 26, I’ve had a few defining ones—choosing to move across the country from Virginia to Wisconsin after school, the breakup of a long relationship, and most importantly: my decision to quit my job and trust that things were going to work out for the better.
At the time, I was working in a corporate pharmaceutical development lab. A job that, on paper, looked like the right thing. It was the line of work I got my degree in, offered a steady paycheck, and was stable and respected. But every day I woke up to go to that job, I felt a heaviness in my chest and a discomfort in my gut. The language used in corporate makes you feel like there are no other options—that it’s worth trading your time for money so you can do the things you like in your free time (which you’re often too drained to enjoy, because you’ve spent all your energy just motivating yourself to be there). I felt further and further from myself, and I don’t think I even realized at the time how unhappy I was.
When I made up my mind to quit, and finally said the words, I felt overwhelming relief. There was a little fear, but no panic—no anxiety. Everything went still, like my cells were exhaling. The universe had been waiting for me to say it, and my body was saying, thank you.
That was the first time I truly practiced free will. The world didn’t fall apart—it kept moving. And for the first time, it was moving with me, not against me.
Since then, I’ve been learning to use my gut as a compass—and it’s led me to places I never could have imagined. It brought me to COPA, where I feel more aligned than ever. It guides me in my mural work and into a version of creativity that doesn’t just fulfill me—it expands me. It led me to the Princeton Club, where I have a schedule that supports both my art and my wellness. And it led me to move in with my sister—a relationship that’s reconnected, grown, and become a source of support.
None of these choices made perfect sense on paper. But my gut knew. And every time I’ve listened, I’ve landed somewhere closer to the life I’m meant to live.
I used to imagine intuition as being loud—like a strong feeling in your gut or a surge of discomfort. But for me, it’s more like the absence of tension. A moment of calm. The body saying, this is right, even before the mind catches up. A small disclaimer: the feeling is almost always accompanied by fear—but it’s a good fear.
The more I trust my gut, the better my life becomes. Not overnight. Not perfectly. But undeniably.
I’m not saying everyone should quit their job. But if you feel that quiet discomfort, that subtle misalignment, that gut whisper that says there’s something else... maybe it’s worth listening.