Kelly (The world shut down, and with it, my career prospects vanished)

Written by Kelly

It’s not like me to sit down and write something out. Honestly, writing has always given me anxiety. I’ve avoided it or put it off as long as I could, only to have the anxiety grow. So, the fact that I’m sitting down to write this now means it’s something I truly need to get out.

To say my life didn’t turn out the way I thought it would is an understatement. I know I’m not alone in feeling this way, but this year has been a time of enormous change for me, and I feel compelled to express it.

This Thursday marks five years since I graduated with my master’s degree. Back then, I was filled with excitement and hope, ready to embark on a career in a field I loved. I’d just finished an inspiring internship with an organization whose mission aligned with mine: protecting and advocating for the marine environment. I was surrounded by passionate, like-minded people, had just been awarded a SCUBA training grant to advance my certifications. Everything felt like it was falling into place, and I was eager to dive into a career in marine science communication and outreach.

And then March 2020 happened.

The world shut down, and with it, my career prospects vanished. Jobs in marine conservation seemed non-existent. I went on unemployment and spent months desperately searching, applying, and being met with rejection or silence. I felt absolutely defeated. The organization I interned with hired for a position without posting it and didn’t even consider me—a slap in the face. I was willing to take any job, even low-paying positions, just to stay in the field. But opportunities were scarce. On the rare occasion I heard back from an employer, the answer was always the same: “You need more experience.”

Nine months of this passed before I finally found a job close to home—technically within the environmental field.

Fast forward four years, and I’m still in that same job. A job that feels like a dead end. I work under a supervisor with multiple sexual harassment claims against him—a man who is not only incompetent but somehow earns more than me and keeps his position. Make that make sense. There’s no room for growth where I am. I feel like I’ve pigeonholed myself into a role I never intended to take. 

I’m an environmental educator for a state park, a position I got as a seasonal hire before being made permanent. At first, it felt like a case of being in the right place at the right time. Now, it feels like the opposite. State jobs have a way of trapping people. The salaries are terrible, but the benefits are great and supposed to “make up” for it.

 Promotions are rare, and moving up often means moving out—to another park, another location, another life. I’ve tried to move up. This year alone, I applied to three state park jobs, each requiring lesson plans and interviews. Despite my effort, I’ve been turned down every time. Sometimes, I suspect these roles are already spoken for, with interviews held just to fulfill a legal requirement. I’ve even had one of my lesson plans stolen during this process.

I feel stuck. Disgruntled. Uninspired.

My current role as an environmental educator involves teaching essentially the same three lessons every day to different school groups, which has become mind-numbing. Opportunities for professional development are limited, and when they do arise, my schedule often conflicts. My union offers tuition assistance for college courses, but I can’t take advantage because of my varying work hours. I’m not being challenged or fulfilled anymore. This job has become nothing more than a source of income –it no longer serves me in any meaningful way.

And now, I’m left questioning everything:

What if I had gone straight into the workforce after undergrad instead of pursuing a master’s degree?

What if I had majored in a more practical field, like medicine or business?

Was grad school a waste of time and money?

These thoughts haunt me. They make me wonder if I’d be better off financially or further along in my career had I chosen differently. Would I love my work as much in those fields? Does that even matter when I feel so unhappy now? My passion for environmental science and conservation feels withered, almost extinguished.

 I’ve stopped applying to jobs regularly because it feels like a waste of time. My degrees—once a source of pride and the product of hard work—now feel like meaningless pieces of paper.

To make matters worse, my mom passed away from Covid—a virus that didn’t even exist five years ago. She was my number one supporter, and now she’s gone. Without her, I feel untethered, lost, and unsure of where to turn. Don’t get me wrong, my dad is incredibly supportive too, but it’s just different. Losing her has left a void that feels impossible to fill.

I don’t know what I’m hoping to achieve by writing this. Maybe I just needed to get it out. I have no passions left, no clear direction, and no one in my immediate life who seems to truly understand. People offer advice, but it often feels irrelevant. I sometimes find myself wanting to reach out to former classmates, professors, and mentors, but the interactions feel transactional, and I feel guilty about that. They were once friends, and now it feels like I’m only reaching out when I need something.

I’ve reached a point where I don’t know what to do. 

I’m not just grieving my mother; I am grieving the person I used to be, the dreams I once held, and the future I thought I was building.

Is this just adulthood?