It’s been four and a half months since I put in my resignation and left my teaching job for a Communications position in the corporate world. Of course, it wasn’t easy saying goodbye to my teaching dream, a dream I’d had since a little girl and thought would be my forever. Still, I knew it was time to leave education for a variety of reasons which I wrote about in my article about quitting teaching.

Over the past few months, I’ve had so many teachers reach out to me about my experience. I think like many in the education field, they’re ready for a change but terrified to leave. It’s hard to leave any job you invested so much time and effort into. However, with teaching, there’s a whole other level of guilt and stigma. People assume you’re a bad person for not wanting to fight the good fight anymore. I’m here to tell you that’s simply not true.

Perhaps more worrisome for those thinking of exiting education is the propaganda we are told as teachers—that we have the best jobs because of the time we have off and our pensions. We worry that it would be a fool’s errand to try to find something better. We’re made to believe that the struggle in our job is normal, to the point that we sacrifice our mental health and physical well-being sometimes.

Four and a half months into my new job and I can tell you I don’t regret leaving for one minute. Are there moments when I’m like, “Holy shit! I left!”? Yes. All the time. Are there moments where imposter syndrome kicks in and I wonder if I can actually do something different with my career? You bet. Are there times I miss my friends from the school I taught at for ten years? All the time.
Leaving teaching hasn’t been a walk in the park in the sense it has taken a lot of courage. Change is never easy. However, I can also tell you that when former co-workers see me around town now, they inevitably say the same thing: “You look so happy.”

And I am. I am happy in ways I didn’t realize were possible. I am calm and collected in ways I haven’t ever known in my adult working career. I am a different person in ways that make me so thankful I found the guts to leave.

I’m here to tell you the truth about leaving teaching, the truth that perhaps don’t want you to hear. I’m here to warn you about what it might feel like if you do make that choice, good and bad. Mostly, I hope I’m here to inspire change—if you feel the need to leave, I hope you can find the strength to do it here.

It won’t be easy—but from where I’m standing, I wish more teachers knew how worth it the change would be.

Here are the seven major things I’ve learned since leaving teaching.

1. You shouldn’t feel physically ill at work.

In my final years of teaching, a sinking feeling in my stomach became the norm. I would walk into the building, and my gut would instantly sink. I felt nauseous and had headaches all the time. I was exhausted to the point that after work, all I wanted to do was sleep. Hobbies fell by the wayside except during summer because I just didn’t have the energy for any of it.
Now, in my new job, I walk into the building and feel energized. Truly. Physically, my health is so much better, probably partially from the fact I’m not walking around stressed every second of the day. Most of all, I actually feel like I enjoy my evenings again because I’m not sleeping every spare moment I have. I come home and have energy to exercise, to run errands, and even to pursue different hobbies I’d abandoned.

It's easy when you’re in the middle of it all to think that how you feel—sapped of energy, half sick all the time, and just run-down—is normal. I’m here to tell you that it’s not. Sure, there are days I’m tired or days I wish I could just stay home all day. But I don’t feel that same kind of illness I felt from being burnt out in the education field.

2. Your weekends should be just that …weekends.
During my ten years of teaching, I thought I enjoyed my weekends. I’ve now realized I didn’t. I understand now how free I feel when I clock out on Fridays. I don’t think about my job again until Monday morning. I don’t stress about the upcoming week or replay all the scenarios that happened in my head all weekend. I simply step away from work and enjoy my time off.

More than that, I enjoy my Sundays now, too. I no longer wake up on Sunday morning fretting about the return to work. I truly enjoy every moment I’m away from work because there is a distinct, clear boundary between my personal life and my work life like there never was during teaching. In fact, in education, it’s often seen as selfish and shameful when you put up that boundary. Ignoring student and parent emails all weekend? But what if they need help with something? Not preparing your lessons for the next week? That’s unacceptable. And what about that stack of papers you didn’t have time to grade? The students need that feedback.

Having weekends off again, really having them off, has reminded me that work life balance can exist, truly. And it’s been a freeing feeling to enjoy them once more.

It’s a Warped World When It Comes to Women’s Weight

I’ve been seeing so many Facebook posts lately that have jarred me to the core—because they’ve all demonstrated that when it comes to women’s weight and social expectations, we’re living in a warped world.

Certainly, this isn’t a shocking revelation. We’ve been talking about the role social media plays on our self-image for years. We’ve all seen the before and after retouching photos that remind us what real women’s bodies look like. We’ve subscribed to the motivational body love accounts and sworn to ourselves we’d chant positive mantras when we look in the mirror.
Still, sometimes it feels like we’re fighting a losing cause because it really is a distorted world we live in. It’s a twisted view of women’s weight and ridiculous expectations that are reinforced over and over and over again. No wonder so many of us can’t escape from the demented rabbit hole.

Repeatedly this week, I’ve been seeing evidence that as a society, we have a true problem that we need to address when it comes to the expectations we put on women regarding their weight.

When a woman thinks she has to remain the same size and shape she was at 18 for her entire life—despite fluctuating hormones, life circumstances, stressors, and aging—it’s a warped world.

When a woman thinks her husband has the right to say he doesn’t love her anymore because she’s put on some pounds—and she believes that—it’s a warped world.

When a grown woman finds herself swamped with murderer-level guilt over a cookie, a piece of cake, or an extra glass of wine—it’s a warped world.

When women spend billions of dollars on potions, pills, weird underclothing to suck it in, diets, and exercise machines that look like torture devices—it’s a warped world.

When a woman thinks the number on her jeans determines how worthy she is of unconditional love and support—it’s a warped world.

When a woman walks into a room with her eyes averted and head down because she gained some weight—it’s a warped world.

You’re not here.

The words tumble through my heart like an oil-laden ocean, like gritty rocks that eviscerate your leg as you hit the bottom.

No matter how many cookies I bake or gifts I buy or times I let the Christmas carols reverberate, the stark truth stands. You’re not here. You’re gone.

Everyone tells me to live in the memories, to remember you were loved, that we loved. But love and memories don’t fill the gap your absence left. They don’t warm the blackened night. They don’t illuminate that wondrous star that seeks to guide.

You’re gone, and I’m here in your empty spot, aching for something that can’t be. The futility of the wish doesn’t make it dissipate. The heart is foolish but strong.

The holiday hustle and bustle distracts me for a while, but in the Silent Night moments, I am drowning.

Still, I trudge on, knowing time won’t heal this wound. It will simply mask it, a patch that allows me to limp forward. A bandage that stops the life-threatening injury from completely usurping my life force—just barely, it feels sometimes.

I hang the mistletoe and drink the hot chocolate. I numb myself when the holiday movie comes on you used to love. I brace myself as your favorite cookie sends grief washing over me. I readjust the bandage on the wound, put more pressure on it, and try to keep from flat lining. Sometimes, if I’m honest, I wish I would succumb to the rotting injury that is grief.

But tonight, I took a moment to separate from the Christmas carols and sap of the tree. I stepped onto my deck and let the bitter cold envelop me. I exhaled a cloud of guilt, of regret, and of melancholy. And standing there, looking up at the same stars that graced our memories, I inhale you. The love we shared fills me, embraces me from the inside out.

I realize the truth I’ve almost forgotten. I realize the magic that is still alive.

Because it’s true, you’re not physically sitting here at the holiday dinner.

You’re not stealing my scissors or hiding the tape as we wrap gifts.

You haven’t helped the elf take flight this season or sang out “God Rest You Merry, Gentleman.”

You’re not glowing with the thought of that gift you bought me and are hiding.

Still, the magic is still there, perhaps even bigger this year. Because the magic is this: against all the impossible odds, you ARE still here.

You’re settled into my weary bones. You’re wrapping my heart in the love I know still exists between us, even though we’re farther apart than we ever were.

You’re here in the courage I find to go back inside, to wash down the candy cane with eggnog like you taught me. You’re here in the magical moment I realize I can carry on the traditions.

You’re here, still, always, because as I realize now, love does not simply vanish. Love is not banished to memories. Love subsists, even when the body does not.

You’re here, so I find the power to uncover a sense of magic. Not the same magic, of course. But magic, nonetheless.

Because you were here, and because you still are, I know I must find the magic for the both of us this season.

You’re not here—yet you are. And that, perhaps, is the biggest sign of holiday magic there is.
 
~To all who are grieving during the holidays. The magic will be different, which is okay. But it’s also okay to still find a version of the magic, no matter what that looks like.

Author L.A. Detwiler

If you don’t have kids, you’re missing out. Your life is less.

As a 35-year-old who has been happily married for 11 years, this statement has been spouted to me more times than I’d like to count. Especially around the holidays, there is this overwhelming sense of pity for my husband and me that we don’t have kids, that we don’t experience holiday magic.
But I’m here to say: Our lives aren’t less magical because we don’t have kids.

I know, I know. This can be a controversial statement. Let me be clear: I am not judging anyone who has children or saying I can understand what that undoubtedly magical experience is. I am not here to say my husband and I live a life of luxury (We do not. I know many couples with children who travel 10x more than we do, have a much better social life, and live in houses much more worthy of a magazine than we do). I’m not here to say having kids is a mistake or that your holidays aren’t magical if you have them.

I’m simply here to say that you don’t have to have children to have a magical holiday season … or life, for that matter.

​

I write this not to stir waves of controversy or even pity. I write this because I know somewhere out there is a woman in her twenties or thirties or forties who worries that because she doesn’t want children, her life will be less.
​
I write this because I know there is a married couple out there who is being hounded about children to the point they wonder if maybe they can’t find happiness with just the two of them.
I write this because I think social media tries so hard to pit the childfree against those with children when it doesn’t need to be that way.

There is not a limit or a recipe for happiness, for holiday magic, or for fulfillment in this life. There Is not one path that is better—there’s just the path that is best for you.

I think the more we talk about that, the more we understand that there are so many ways to live this life, the more we can be happy for each other and, most importantly, find happiness, real happiness, for ourselves.

Happy holidays, wherever you are in life and whatever you’re doing,

Author L.A. Detwiler

L.A. Detwiler is the USA Today Bestselling author of numerous novels including The Widow Next Door.

​You’re the girl with the seat on the corner, straddling the legs awkwardly as you try to fit into the swatch of leftover table.
 
You’re the girl invited to the party—sometimes—but never the one at the center of the crowd who everyone turns to see walk in.
 
You’re the woman in the meeting who tries to speak up but is always an afterthought to the more boisterous voices in the crowd.
 
You’re the one who has never had a friendship bracelet, a best friends forever necklace, or someone to drink mimosas at brunch with.
 
You’re the one on the edges, the fringes of the group. You’re the one always trying to step into the inner circle a little more but never quite making it work. And, if you’re being honest, it’s hard being the invisible girl on the fringes who never quite fits in enough to be called one of the crew but isn’t completely on the outskirts, either. You’re somewhere in the middle where you just feel invisible.
​
Life in your twenties or thirties isn’t like the movies—we all know that. It isn’t always filled with the girls’ trips and the best friends you can call and confess your sexual exploits to or go for drinks after work in that work-to-weekend look. There’s really nowhere to where that sparkly shirt to or anyone to call for a mani/pedi date or a girls’ brunch. For so many of us, female friendships aren’t the thing of a chick lit novel. Even though social media tries to make us think otherwise, many of us women in adulthood struggle with female friendship. Even the somewhat dysfunctional friendship in Firefly Lane seems out of our realm because we don’t even have a Tully to love/hate.  In honesty, many of us smile in the group photographs or at the luncheons—but behind the mask, we just feel alone and, quite frankly, like there’s something very wrong with us.

As one who has consistently been on the fringes of female friendship her whole life, I’m here to tell you that the more and more I talk to other women in person and online, the more I realize that this isn’t a rare occurrence. So many of us women feel exactly this way—like some sort of female friendship predilection alluded us in the gene pool.

Some of it certainly is a result of the chaos that is adult life. Whether it’s our careers, kids, significant others, pets, families, hobbies, or just life in general, things are hectic. It’s difficult to make friendship a priority sometimes, and for many of us, it just falls near the bottom on the list of priorities. Connection, true connection, requires time, and that’s something a lot of us don’t always have the opportunity to put in.

For some of us, the lack of friendship comes from hesitancy and walls. Many of us have tried to be vulnerable in the best friends’ necklace kind of way only to be backstabbed. Once you’ve been hurt by someone you thought would be a lifelong friend, it isn’t easy to trust again. Even when we feel someone getting close or find a potential friend, we sometimes sabotage it because we don’t want to risk getting hurt. Female friendships are complicated relationships, even though the movies want to make you think that’s not the case.
​
And sometimes, it’s just that who we are differs significantly from the mainstream. We might try to be who we really are only to get weird looks from the main group of women in our lives. We may feel so different than the women in our workplace, our families, or our hobbies that we just feel it’s easier to gravitate to the edges so we don’t risk being embarrassed. Our teen years often remind us that not fitting in is a shameful thing, and we carry that with us into adulthood.
But I think there are lessons to be learned here. Maybe it’s not about trying to escape from the edge to worm our way toward the center of the group. Maybe, instead, it’s about learning to love the fringes and own the fact that we belong exactly there. 

So many blogs and articles I’ve read try to give you advice on how to fix your friendship woes. They tell you where to meet new friends, how to play nice, and how to make those connections. But I’m here to tell you—don’t change who you are to fit into the girl group. Truly. I think the real answer to our lack of friendship is to accept who we really are and be unapologetic about it, even if that means we have to stand outside the circle sometimes.

The older I get, the more I realize this: Maybe some of us don’t fit in with the traditional female friendship model because we were never meant to. Maybe the popular, girls’ trip girls aren’t actually our crew. Maybe we were meant to accept our otherness to inspire others, to connect with those who also feel invisible. Maybe it is when we own our placement on the fringes that we can really abate the loneliness and find our true sense of connection.

In truth, maybe more of us need to learn to be a Wednesday Addams as portrayed in the Tim Burton adaptation. We need to stand firm in our outfits that don’t match the others. We need to stop smiling to impress others, stop trying to be part of the crowd. We need to learn to dance at the party to our own rhythm and not care who is watching or poking fun at our eccentric moves. We need to learn to love the fringes sometimes and own our otherness. We need to bask in our weird, our different, our aloofness in order to not only reach our own greatness but to attract the kind of friends who will accept us for who we are. Even Wednesday eventually finds a friend in Enid, not because she changes who she is or tries to fit in but arguably because she stays unabashedly true to herself.

I think more of us need to be a Wednesday and step into our truth, our own version of ourselves, and know that it’s okay if that puts us on the edges sometimes. Happiness can be found in all sorts of ways, and connection doesn’t have to be the trip to the winery and movie nights like social media portrays.

In short, those of us who struggle with female friendship need to learn that the best friend we can ever have is ourself. We need to learn to validate ourselves and not seek validation from others. Wednesday doesn’t look to others for approval—she is fine with being who she is and unapologetic for her own sense of worth.

This isn’t to say we don’t all need connections or should push people away on purpose. It’s more about being your own friend first and foremost and learning to love who you are, even if that doesn’t make you popular. We all need to learn that we don’t have to have girls’ trips and mimosas to be valued. Being alone sometimes doesn’t have to feel lonely. And, in truth, there are worse things to be than to be alone—like being someone you’re not.

I think the lesson we can all learn from Wednesday is this: Keep showing up exactly as you are. Keep putting yourself out there, sure, and keep looking for connections when you can.
Keep sitting at the edge of the table if you have to … but don’t be afraid to take up more space. Keep speaking up in the meeting, but don’t be afraid to get a bullhorn if you need to because you know your ideas are valuable.

And don’t be afraid to walk into the center of the party if you’re on the edges. Some people won’t get you. That’s fine. Because I promise that somewhere, there’s a girl on the edges just trying to find the courage to do just that—and maybe that’s the encouragement she needs.

Maybe if more of us on the edges stepped into the spotlight in an unapologetic way, if we showed our otherness and our weirdness, if we showed we aren’t afraid to stand alone—maybe more of us Wednesdays could find each other.

In short, you don’t have to be the popular girl or the girls’ night girl or the one the others laud in order to be happy. I think the world needs more Wednesdays.

Or, in other words, the world needs more of you, girl on the fringes, exactly as you are.

L.A. Detwiler is the USA Today Bestselling author of The Widow Next Door with HarperCollins UK as well as numerous other thriller novels. Follow her on Instagram for more advice for modern women, inspiration to chase your dreams, and book recommendations. 

Leaves under our feet and blue sky above our heads, we saunter into the empty solitude of the tiny park near our house. My Great Dane Edmund cannot keep his feet moving fast enough underneath him to keep up with his excitement. Nose plowing through the piles of leaves as his tail wags, the park is a beacon of curiosity and contentment.

However, it’s really nothing special, in truth. A few play areas for kids, a few pavilions, and lots of trees. The paved path loops through the entire park, and we rarely leave the road.
Edmund is, admittedly, not a huge fan of nature. He appreciates sniffing the grass, the trees, and the forest creatures from afar—he enjoys this park because it is an urbanized version of nature. Still, his entire body relaxes when we are at this small abode.
​
The typically anxious, always on high-alert Great Dane settles into himself and the freedom I offer him on his leash to just sniff, to just be a dog. To Edmund, our weekly jaunt to the park near our house is an adventure, a reminder of how the world is there purely for exploration.
If I’m being honest, though, our weekly trip to the park isn’t just for Edmund—it’s for me, too. For while the park is a chance to get out and explore for Edmund, it’s a chance for me to get away. It’s a place of true quiet, where even the traffic fades into the distance in favor of the heron’s calls overhead. It’s a place that doesn’t require anything of me—not money, not interaction, and certainly not status. It’s a place where I can breathe in the silence and exhale all of society’s pressures as I take in the vastness of the trees, the leaves, and the fact that nature doesn’t care about any of it.

Watching Edmund explore this simple place near our house, I’m always reminded that the world really IS a vast, wide-open place waiting for us to notice it. And I’m also reminded that even though exotic trips and locales are exciting, you don’t have to jet-set to Paris or the Caribbean or Egypt to find marvels. There is exploration and adventure to be done right in your hometown that doesn’t cost a thing. There is inspiration around you if you take a moment to unplug and appreciate it. There is always something new to see, to marvel in, to revel in, if you’re willing to go out and find it.
You don’t have to go somewhere to special to realize how special life is. That’s the lesson I’ve learned from this tiny, humble park near our house. That’s the lesson I come back to every single week when I come with Edmund to this holy ground of sorts—because isn’t it just so easy to forget all of that in the hustle and bustle of life? Don’t we all need a reminder sometimes of the words my favorite poet Whitman says when pondering the meaning of life:

Answer: That you are here.
That life exists and identity.
That the powerful play goes on,
And you may contribute a verse.

The best piece of advice I can give you, modern woman, is this:

Walk with your head held high.

Literally, I mean walk with your head held high, your gaze confident.

Even when you're unsure or worry.
When you know their whispers are about you.
When you're not sure where you're going.
Keep your head held high.

When they're not listening to you.
When they ignore your worth.
When they joke about the size of your thighs.
Keep your head held high.

When your self-talk says you're too stupid,
too ugly,
too loud,
too bitchy,
Keep your head held high.

When no one is on your side.
When you're invisible.
When you've lost your voice.
Keep your head held high.

I see too many women 
walking small,
eyes down,
crumpled into themselves
like their existence
requires an apology.

Hell No. 

Walk with your head up,
your eyes laser focused ahead.
Walk with your shoulders back,
tall and proud.
Hell, add a red lip and
really come into your own.

Walk with your head up 
owning your worht and
your space.
The thing is, when you do,
they'll notice. They'll pause.
They'll question. 
Confidence breeds
respect.

But you know what?
It isn't even about them.

It's about you.

Because when you walk 
like you've already got the
crown on your head, you'll
believe it.
You'll kick that fear aside.
You'll ignore the hate.
Because when you walk with your head
up and take up the
space that's rightfully yours, they'll
remember who you are.

​So will you.

Hustle culture snatched you up after high school, its venomous claws turning your head the way it wanted. Its mantras replay over and over, a twisted, cyclical trap.

Life's for achieving.
Money is for collecting.
Everyone's opinion matters.
Reputation must be guarded.
More is your standard.

So, woman in your 20s, you keep chasing it all like a discombobulated chicken. You constantly try to improve your looks because pretty girls get ahead. You make sound career choices and never say the dreaded "no." You collect the Instagram photos from worthy locales but also try to remember to save for retirement. You have fun so you can hoard those "wild party moments" to retell later in life but you're also wise because one slipup could mean disaster for your reputation. You make friends and do the brunches. You keep an eye on the biological clock like everyone tells you to. You network and pick a house. You decorate it like you're Martha Stewart and try to keep up with the household while working all the hours. You fall in love and win his heart. You win over his Mama, too. You play house and buy a house and climb the ladder only to climb it again and you never, ever stop for a breath because to pause, even more a moment, is to be left behind.

In short, you run yourself ragged until you barely recognize who you are or even what the hell you want anymore. Because that's what we're supposed to do. 

Right?
​

You do it all because you're a modern woman--and then poof. One day, you realize the "best decade of your life" is over, and it wasn't all that great. You realize you didn't use enough sunscreen like your Mama told you and now you've got too many wrinkles. But more importantly, you realize that you spent so much of your 20s doing what everyone else wanted you to do--that you forgot to live for yourself.

You hoarded the things, the moments, the achievements. But you stand in your cluttered house of knick-knacks and collectibles and ask yourself: what does it all mean? What does it matter?

And that, my friends, is how so many of us wake up in our 30s dazed, tired, and quite frankly, lost.

I used to be that hustle girl, always reaching for more. I chased the full-time job and the path I thought would lead me to happiness. I collected money and things (and also cats, to my husband's chagrin). I tried to be the "good girl" who did all the things and never let anyone see my frown. I chased the hustle culture, always trying to level up. Most of all, I spent my 20s fearing my 30s--because according to society, 30 was old for women, was the point where you had to have it all figured out.

I cried copious tears over the 30 candles on my birthday cake and fell for the lie we're told in our 20s--we become convinced that success is life's currency, life's true measure. 

For some, we measure that success with our bank accounts or the number of designer bags we can afford. Others accumulate job titles. Some of us use houses or cars or lovers as our marker. Regardless, "More," is our mantra, and hustle is both our motivation and our curse in our 20s.

However, as a 34-year-old, I've gotten far enough to learn this: the real currency in life isn't money, fame, or success. It's peace. Because peace is the only thing that can add up to real, genuine happiness.

Peace is that long, slow breath when you look failure in the eye and know you'll be okay.

It's rest and grace for yourself when the world keeps shouting "Not enough."

It's acknowledging that collecting all the bags, money, and titles in the world doesn't mean shit if you're too burnt out to enjoy them.

Peace is understanding second or third or tenth best isn't losing. 

It's living in the moment and inhaling the beauty of stillness, of calmness, of satisfaction.

Peace is having the courage to say: I'm enough. It's enough.

Peace is the currency, the true goal, the true answer.

Sometimes, I think maybe we have to go through the hustle of our 20s to learn this lesson, to really learn it in our bones. Sometimes, I think it was because I was so lost and tired when I got to 30 from trying to be everything for a decade that I finally understood.

But to the women who are in your 20s right now, maybe this doesn't have to be your plight. Maybe you can learn from us. Maybe you can find the answer sooner. Maybe you already have. 

I hope so. I hope you can rise above the culture that demands more. I hope you say "yes" to less, to being enough, to living with enough.

I hope you know life is more than collections and money and material things. I hope you find the value of peace early on and understand how many possibilities open up for you when you truly embody it.

To you, women in your 20s, I say: find your peace. Find it early. And then, never let anyone tell you any other way to live. 

Lifeless.
That was the word that had started to come to mind when I thought about my days. Not the kind of lifeless that stems from a day or two of being tired or from a tragic time. It was the kind of lifeless that broiled up daily from a deep-rooted, all-encompassing emptiness. I had stopped feeling passion about anything anymore. I had stopped feeling joy. More importantly, I had stopped feeling like myself.
​
 It was my husband who helped me come to my full awakening that the deep despondency I was feeling about my job wasn’t normal. He noticed how it had become an unspoken rarity for me to tell him I had a good day at work. More often than not, I would come home crying from the stress, anxiety, and frustrations from my job. And sure, I had summer vacation—but I found myself living only for those months. Nine months of the year, I had become an overwhelmed, angry shell of who I really was. So, after many job applications, rejections, self-doubts, and months, I did the unthinkable. I left teaching.

I am an ex-teacher. It’s a title I never in a million years thought I would possess. Ever since I was a little girl teaching stuffed animals on the stairs with my tiny chalkboard, teaching was my dream. Mostly, I wanted to teach because I’ve always believed in the power of education. I love the doors and possibilities that open up with education, and I wanted to incite that spark in others. For about seven years, I did just that—and that light inspired me, too. I felt passion for my work and built connections with my students that still stand today. I created engaging activities, graded papers, taught about Shakespeare, and did all the teaching things. I felt alive.
​
But, for those of you in education, you know there was a shift even before the COVID word began to leak into our daily existence. About seven years into my career, it became apparent that education had changed. The students had changed. And with those transformations, something broke in the education system—and in me. 

I could go on and on about what I think is wrong in the system that is, in many ways, collapsing around so many. I could talk about the lack of respect and the move from encouraging intrinsic motivation in students to extrinsic and sometimes non-existent motivation. I could talk about how our grading systems are diluting all the true purposes of learning. I could go on and on about how we are failing our teachers, but we are also failing our students by not preparing them for the fact that life is hard. I could talk about how the school system has become a giant excuse factory that allows unacceptable, unsafe behaviors to be harbored in our classrooms and how teachers are held responsible for every hostile facet of an environment that surfaces from such naïve philosophies.

I could talk about the scary moments I’ve had and the even scarier fact that so many moments had no consequences for the students. I, like so many educators, could also give you too many stories of times I felt completely de-humanized, disrespected, and even unsafe in the classroom to the point I felt constantly sick to my stomach. I could tell you about how I felt stuck, trapped in a profession with little upward mobility or recognition for hard work. I could tell you things that would make you afraid for the future of the education system.

But if you’re a teacher thinking of leaving, you know all this already, and I’m not here to write a dissertation for a public that already is ready to crucify educators for every misstep, misspoken word, or claim about the faultiness of student behavior. I’m here to tell you about the other side of things—the side so many of us dream of but are afraid to go and explore.

In truth, I made the decision to leave teaching years ago when my heart started to die a little bit each time I walked into that classroom and saw a total sense of apathy growing in the students. It was the final school year when my decision was made. I was trying to inspire students to chase dreams and live their best lives, but at my core, I wasn’t living mine. I didn’t recognize the person I had become—anxiety-filled, tearful, depressed, and often ill. I finally decided to listen to my inner voice and my favorite mantra:

“You are not a tree.” I made the change.
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On the other side of the teaching wall, I want to tell you this—I’m happy. Truly, unrecognizably happy. I no longer dread going to work. In fact, I enjoy what I’m doing. I’ve found a job related to my ultimate passion, writing, and it feels like a dream to get to do this work every single day. I no longer find myself napping for hours after work from exhaustion and sadness. I no longer feel sick to my stomach when I walk in the front doors, and I no longer feel disrespected or blamed for things out of my control. I now have opportunities for growth and learning that excite me.

I want to share with you some things I’ve learned from my shift from teaching. I’m sharing these things because I know there are a lot more out there like me—feeling broken-down, despondent, and tired but too afraid to say something. I know there is a hero-complex in teaching where it makes you feel like a bad person to even suggest you want to leave or that things aren’t perfect. I also know there is a deep curiosity about what it really is like on the other side of the education system.

I also want to make it clear that I came from a school with great administrators. The issues I experienced weren’t because of them. They were supportive and kind. It’s just that they, too, are encompassed by a broken system. They can’t be expected to singlehandedly change an entire educational structure, either.
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I hope that these insights I’ve had help someone else who is trying to make the difficult decision to leave. I’m not saying leaving is right for everyone. Certainly, we need dedicated educators to stay, to fight the fight, and to make changes. However, I also don’t think that’s the path for all of us. I don’t think it’s selfish to want something different for yourself. So, here are the things I’ve learned these past few months since leaving my classroom for the last time.

​In education more than any other job, there is a feeling of guilt for leaving the profession. I think it’s because during our careers, we’re constantly reminded that we’re there for the kids. Every new task, every insurmountable hurdle, every exhausting week, we’re reminded that we’ll do anything “for the betterment of the kids.” We’re told often that you can’t pour from an empty cup—but that’s exactly what we’re encouraged to do. If you’re not sacrificing your health, sleep, and social life for the kids, you’re not doing enough. This “never enough” mentality rules us, plagues us, and preys on us. Because here’s the thing—we go into teaching because we do care and we do want to make a difference. And that’s what makes leaving feel that much harder.
 
We’re made to feel sometimes like we’ve abandoned the great cause. We’re made to feel like we’re lazy or uncaring for wanting a job where we’re respected and recognized for our efforts. We’re made to feel like we’re terrible teachers for leaving.
 
I struggled with that for a while when I first left. If I was really such a good teacher, why didn’t I stay and fight the good fight? Shouldn’t I raise my voice and try to make changes? But here’s the thing I’ve come to understand now—the good fight is rigged. That’s not to say it’s hopeless, but I’m here to tell you that if your mental health and well-being is suffering, fighting the good fight isn’t fighting any good fight at all.
 
The kids are important, certainly. But I’m going to say something controversial in education—you’re important, too. You matter, too. Your well-being, your motivation, your passions, and your dreams all matter. It isn’t selfish to want a new dream.

​When I became a teacher, I knew the kids would be disrespectful. We had entire chapters in our college textbooks devoted to how to deal with students with behavior issues. Still, in the past few years, things have taken a dark turn.
 
I think we come to a point as teachers where we are inundated with such a toxic, verbally abusive environment that we begin to believe that’s how it is everywhere. We begin to think we aren’t worthy of respect or that somehow, it’s just part of the job. We’re sworn at, accused falsely, told we’re worthless, challenged, and disrespected all in the name of “that’s kids for you.” We’re told that we have no power, told that we have no say in our own classrooms, and told that we’re not even worthy of human decency. This is no longer a rare occurrence, either. This is something that happens multiple times a day in classrooms, to the point that it has become the norm.
 
The scary part looking back? We start to believe it. We believe it’s normal to be called a bitch or told because we’re women, we aren’t respected. We believe it’s normal to be afraid of being cussed out, having violence in our classrooms, or being told we don’t know what we’re doing despite numerous degrees and years of experience. We take it with a smile because that’s what we should do.
 
Certainly, when working with teenagers or younger, you know there’s going to be disrespect. But when day in and day out, you’re verbally abused, told you don’t matter, and talked to in ways that would never be acceptable anywhere else, all without consequences at times, it takes a mental toll.
 
Now that I’m in a professional corporate environment, I want to say this—it’s not normal. Not even close. And now that I’m somewhere with professional standards, I’ve come to walk with my head a little higher. I’ve come to be appreciated for my talents, my skills, and my experience. I’ve come to understand that teenagers or not, it’s never okay to be talked to the way I was on a daily basis.

​This is another eye-opening find I’ve had since leaving the classroom. I no longer dread Mondays. I no longer feel that sickness in the pit of my stomach when I walk through the door. I no longer count the hours until my next day off.
 
I’m just steadily happy. Every day, I feel like there’s something to look forward to. And most of all, even when I have a hard day at work, I’m not wiped out completely to the point I need to sleep the night away. I leave work, go home, and have the energy and passion to pursue what I love. I’m working on my hobbies again. I’m exercising more. I’m sleeping better. The quality of my life when I’m not at work has exponentially improved. I’m just plain happy—both at home and at work.

It’s still crazy to me sometimes to think I left teaching, the only thing I ever dreamed of doing. But the thing I’ve learned these past few months is that dreams change sometimes, and that’s okay. I know this article might sound like teaching is hopeless or that I think everyone should leave education. Let me be clear—I don’t. If you still love teaching, if you think it’s still worth the negatives, then by all means, keep teaching. We need passionate educators to continue moving the education system forward. We need educators to light a fire for learning in our students. I still am thankful we live in a country that believes in free education for all.

However, if you’re connecting with some of the negatives I mentioned, then I hope this article gives you pause. There are all sorts of reasons we tell ourselves we need to stay in education or in any job, really, that we’re no longer happy in. We think about the wise choice, the less risky choice, the comfortable choice. Was leaving teaching easy? Not at all. I sacrificed some things like my summers, my pension, and the stable comfort of knowing exactly what I was doing. Change is always slightly uncomfortable and terrifying, and this was no exception. It was hard starting over and learning a new job. It was hard leaving my friends. It was hard leaving behind the students I had connected with.

Still, do you know what’s harder? Going to a job every day where you feel dead inside. Going to a job where you don’t remember your worth anymore or where you feel sick to your stomach every day. Going to a job you no longer fully believe is right for you.
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Leaving teaching will never be easy. There will be internal and external struggles. But, standing here on the other side of my choice, I can tell you I made the best one for me. I’m now in a job I love, a job that lights me up again. I’m in a job where I walk through the door and feel respected, heard, and appreciated. I’m in a job where I feel like I am empowered to make a difference without swimming upstream all the time. I’m in a job where I feel energized and not exhausted. 

There will be some who will read this and be angry. There will some who will read this and think I’m a bad teacher for leaving. There will be some who will be rooting for me to fail. But that’s okay.
 
I’ve learned from leaving teaching that especially when you’re an educator, everyone will have an opinion about your choices. The only important one, though, is your own. So, to the educators who are thinking of leaving teaching—I hope you learn to dismiss everyone else’s opinion and listen to yourself. And, if that inner voice tells you it’s time to go—I hope you go with your head held high and excitement for what’s to come. Because the greatest lesson I’ve learned since leaving the classroom? It’s a great big, wide world out there beyond the classroom, and when it feels like it’s time to go, it’s okay to head out into the great unknown and explore. As the Walt Whitman poster that was hanging in my classroom said, “Now voyager sail thou forth to seek and find.”
 
Sail thou forth, dear teacher. There’s a wide horizon waiting for you.

Lindsay (L.A.) Detwiler is a USA Today Bestselling thriller author, former English teacher, and a Communications Specialist from Pennsylvania. Her novel The Widow Next Door, published with HarperCollins UK, hit the USA Today Bestseller's list. She has numerous other bestselling published novels, including The Diary of a Serial Killer's Daughter and Remember When.

*If you are looking for help and courage to make the change, I highly recommend checking out the Teacher Career Coach (This isn't an ad at all...I just followed her on IG and loved her content). She really helped me find the courage to chase my new dream. Check her out on Instagram @teachercareercoach

Staring into the mirror, a popular quote from My Big Fat Greek Wedding came to mind: “Look, I was going through a phase. I was Frump Girl.”

If you haven’t seen the movie, it’s essentially about a girl who wakes up in her thirties to realize she’s not living the life she wants. She goes through a physical transformation, starts taking classes, and falls in love. It’s a movie about blossoming, essentially–but at the beginning of this year, I felt like I’d made a transformation into Frump Girl, not from it.

So many of us have our own stories of struggle from these past few years. The pandemic didn’t really do anyone any mental health or physical health favors. So many of us gained weight, got depressed, and struggled with who we were. Years later, we’re still living in the aftermath. So many friends, colleagues, and acquaintances I know have expressed struggling with their identity and confidence in the past year. 

I also fell prey to the pandemic in some ways. Staying at home, while a blessing for my introverted nature, also led to some unwanted side effects. Weight gain, unhealthy habits, and social isolation played their part in my transformation into Frump Girl. Add to that a husband who lost his job right before the pandemic and my mastiff, my best friend, dying, and it was a recipe for a mid-thirties crisis. 

In the past few months, though, I’ve managed to crawl out of my frumpy, slumpy mindset–all without spending thousands of dollars on quick fixes. I wanted to share what worked for me in case you, too, find yourself in a season of frump. 

Check out my best tips that worked for me to get me out of my slump. To be clear, it wasn’t about looking physically better like so many posts tell you on Pinterest. This isn’t a post about how to be the sexiest version of yourself or how to meet society’s beauty standards. It’s more about confidence. It’s about rediscovering who you are and how you can show up in the world as your best self. Check out what helped me do just that below, and steal any ideas that inspire you.

I want to say that I am not sponsored by any of the brands or items I mention ( I wish!). I am sharing things I truly love. 

1. Find inspiring podcasts

    It’s a common mantra in the motivational field that you become who and what you surround yourself with. While watching The Kardashians all day might be a fun escape, it might also not be what your struggling mental state needs. When I was at my lowest, I sought out podcasts and social media that made me feel like I could conquer the world–not like I was lacking.

My all-time favorite podcast is definitely the Rachel Hollis podcast. I know she doesn’t resonate with everyone (who does?), but I love that she is a high-achiever who speaks to women. She really talks a lot about chasing more in your life and going after your dreams, which is something I love.

I also recently found the Manifestation Babe, which is a bit more of a hippie-trippie ride. Still, I found myself interested in spirituality in different versions in the past few months, and manifestation was something that kept coming up in a lot of my social media feeds. 

Whatever you choose to listen to, find something that you look forward to listening to and that fills you with motivation. Instead of watching the news before work, I started listening to podcasts to start my day off on the right foot. It’s made a world of difference in how I see things.


2.    Add three healthy habits to your routine

Unless you’re living in a celebrity-sized mansion, it was almost impossible to get enough steps and physical activity in during the stay-at-home phase of the pandemic. For many of us, the habit of lethargy followed us even into 2022. Weight gain was a common issue with so many of us as a result of 2020.

I am not a fitness junkie by any means. In fact, my family likes to tease me that the only ‘B’ I ever got on a report card was in gym class. Still, there have been enough studies and my own experience to tell me that staying physically active and healthy improves your confidence. I don’t care how much you weigh or what size your clothes are, and you shouldn’t, either. Still, when you work on your health, you walk differently. You feel better in your clothes, and you feel better period.

For me, as someone who hates eating healthy and working out, I challenged myself back in February to add three healthy habits to my routine. I picked:

1. Take vitamins every single day.
2. Drink more water.
3. Work out at least 20 minutes a day in addition to walking the dog.

This felt doable, and it’s something I’ve stuck with even now. This summer, I worked more on cleaning up my nutrition to support these three, but to start, this was what I focused on. Nothing crazy or impossible. 

I challenge you to pick three healthy habits as well. They don’t have to match mine. Maybe one of your healthy habits will be to journal every day in support of your mental health. Maybe you’ll trade your iced coffees for green tea instead, or maybe you’ll add a salad to your dinner each day. Pick three smaller health goals and run with them–and be sure to give it time before you discount the benefit. I didn’t see a change in my mood or health for several months. It takes time, truly.

If you are looking to add fitness to your routine, one app I loved was FitON. I still am using it because it has so many workouts…and the FREE version is absolutely perfect. You can stay on the free plan forever and still have plenty to do. None of the workouts are locked (the paid version just gives you the ability to choose different music and to download the workouts). I never get bored, and there are seriously workouts for every level. I’ve been loving the Pilates workouts lately. 


3.    Turn to Non-Fiction
As a bookworm, another way I know to get out of a slump is through reading. During my hardest periods, I picked up non-fiction specifically to boost my mood. You can find books out there on any topic you want to get inspired about.

My favorite is again by Rachel Hollis: Girl, Wash Your Face and Girl, Stop Apologizing. I love these books for women because they help you get out of your own way. 

I also picked up several manifestation books about positive mindset that really helped. Another book I strongly recommend is The Gap and the Gain by Dan Sullivan and Dr. Benjamin Hardy. If you are a high achiever who feels like you are never accomplishing enough, this will change your whole mindset.


4. Make a Goal Wall

You’ve probably heard of visualization boards or manifestation boards. I’ve turned my bathroom mirror into my own version of this so that every morning, it’s the first thing I see. It’s also what I look at while I’m getting ready, and this helps me stop negative self-talk.

On my mirror, I have several things:

1. My all-time, biggest, wildest dream at the top of the mirror in huge letters (Mine is to be a NYT Bestselling author). 
2. The word I identify with the most/ my passion: Writer
3. A list of bucket-list type goals I’m working towards right now, big and small
4. A photograph of my happiest moment with my mastiff Henry
5. A photograph from Outlander because I’m obsessed and it makes me happy.

Sometimes, when I find a quote I love, I’ll put a post-it note on my mirror. Sometimes, I change my goal wall or add to it. The point is that every morning, the first thing I see are my goals, what I’m aiming for, and things that light me up. It’s hard to feel frumpy or like you’re in a slump when you’ve literally got your eye on where you’re headed.

Don’t limit yourself, either, when you make your lists or goals. The bigger the better. I firmly believe that goals and dreams are what keep us inspired, motivated, and get us off the sofa. 



5. Change up your fashion
After the pandemic, I found myself in a fashion slump as well. Sweatpants and baggy shirts had become my uniform, and this frumpy style did nothing for my confidence. To get out of this rut, I did a few things.
 
I started looking on Pinterest for outfit ideas. I thought about what the best version of myself would wear, no matter how ridiculous it seemed. I stopped worrying about what others thought I should wear or what was practical. I thought about what outfits would make me happy.

Next, I started upgrading my wardrobe. One of my favorite places to do this is Stitch Fix. Yes, it’s very pricy. Truly. It’s not something I do all the time. Still, the stylists are great at sending pieces that fit your style but also push you out of your comfort zone. There were so many pieces they sent that I never would have tried on but that looked great and made me feel awesome. They are always my favorite pieces. They are an investment, but I can tell you that all of my Stitch Fix clothes are my favorites and have lasted years. I swear I am not sponsored by them, but if you want to give them a try, I do have a code here where you can get $25 when you order your first Stitch Fix Box. (Full disclosure: I do get $25 if you sign up as well, so thank you in advance if you do sign up and help me add to my wardrobe.)

You don’t have to spend a fortune to enhance your style, though. I also adore shopping at T.J. Maxx, Ross, and Burlington because I get so many amazing brands and styles for a fraction of the price. I actually bought a few top-notch brand shoes at Burlington for only $30 total. Poshmark is another place to look for high-quality brands at a fraction of the price. I just bought myself my dream Michael Kors purse for $50. 

It’s not about how much you spend or the brands, though. Truly. It’s about dressing in a way that makes you feel confident. Sometimes, it’s just about mixing up your look to something new and exciting.



6. Take some quiet time to think

This sounds like a ridiculous tip that is too simple, but one of the best ways I got out of my funk was to take some quiet time to think. I used this time to think about the following:

1. All that I’ve accomplished so far
2. Visualizing my big, wild dreams
3. Thinking about who I really am at this moment

Sometimes our “frumpy” feelings come from the disconnect between who we were and who we have become. Our sense of identity doesn’t always catch up with our changes, so taking time to really reflect on these questions can help us feel more steady and stable. I try to take a few minutes by myself to go for a walk with the dog and just think–no technology, no music, just me. Another place I love is my hammock. I find that if you can find a place outside to do your thinking, it really does soothe the soul somehow.

Find your own quiet space and take at least ten minutes a day to just be. I promise you’ll see a big difference.


7. Invest in beautiful undergarments

I used to think buying bras and underwear that were nice was a waste of money, but truly, if you’re looking for confidence, this is a great way to give yourself a boost. Ditch the grandma panties and find something that makes you feel sexier or more put-together. Get fun patterns or colors you wouldn’t normally. Invest in luxurious feeling fabrics. This is a simple way to boost your confidence without making a big show of it to the world.

8. Try something new

Monotony is a confidence killer. If you need to break out of a slump, try mixing up your routine in a small way. This can take on so many forms.

• Try a new brand of coffee in the morning or get a new makeup product.
• Take a different route home or on your walk.
• Try a new restaurant that you’ve never been to, or get something off the menu you normally wouldn’t.
• Go on Pinterest and try a new hobby, craft, or skill.
• Check off something on your bucket list.

I have found that the best way to get out of a funk or depression was to try something new. A couple years ago, I finally checked off horseback riding from my bucket list–and it was my favorite day. My soul literally felt lighter after that experience because it was new, exciting, and challenging. In the fall, I also started candy making, which was something I always wanted to learn but never did. It’s something I do just for me (and for family and friends so I’m not eating all the candy), and it’s just soothing.

Find one small way to mix up your routine today. Do something that scares you a little. Take a class to learn something brand-new. Trying new things truly does feed the soul and gets you out of your boring routine.



9. Makeup and skincare

Having a skincare routine has helped me feel less frumpy, even on days I don’t wear makeup. There are so many options out there for every budget. I love Drunk Elephant for a splurge, but the Inkey List at Sephora has tons of affordable options that I think are great dupes. Get into the habit of taking care of your skin, though. Even just the ritual of layering on the serums and creams, something you do just for yourself, can help boost your confidence.

I also find that makeup is a fun way to get out of a rut. I love trying new looks. Pinterest and TikTok are great places to look for fun, achievable looks. Get a new palette with bright colors to try or, my personal favorite confidence boost: a bold, red lip. I think a red lip makes every woman strut a little differently.

Again, it’s all about trying something new and boosting your confidence. Little changes go a long way.


10. Talk to a friend 

The best piece of advice I can give you if you are in a slump is this: talk to someone about it. I think so many times, social media makes us feel like we have to only show our smile to the world. We see all of our friends’ successes, gorgeous vacations, beautiful photos, and we think we can’t be vulnerable. We don’t want others to know we’re struggling. We lie and say we’re great when inside, we’re dying.

Be brave enough to talk to someone–a spouse, a friend, a family member. Tell them the truth about how you’re feeling. Or, if you don’t have someone you feel comfortable talking to, find a group online that you connect with around a common interest. Feeling a sense of belonging and being able to be honest with others is what life is all about. 

I think you might be surprised, too, to find that if you are honest with others about your struggles, you perhaps will find you’re not alone in feeling like you are.


At the end of the day, whether it’s because of a world pandemic, a personal struggle, or just adult life being hard, we’ll all fall into a funk at some point. The key, though, is to avoid staying there. You do have control over finding ways to escape your funk, and they don’t have to break the bank. Still, if your funk is lasting a long time or if you’re just not getting out of it, don’t be afraid to seek professional help as well.

Life is hard, and we all struggle from time to time. Still, life is also beautiful, and you owe it to yourself to feel that beauty again. Pulling yourself out of a rut or a funk and getting back to feeling fabulous takes work. Still, I hope that you find the strength to do just that because, truly, you already are fabulous. You just need to believe it again.

For more inspiration, please join me over on Instagram or check out my motivational poetry on Amazon under L.A. Henry.




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