Mental health doesn't take breaks. You either get right or you end up crashing and falling apart. And that's exactly what happened to me. I had to go through two weeks of psychiatric evaluation. Before I knew it, I was receiving supplemental income and seeing a psychiatrist. It took five years. But those five years were so worth it, because now I spend my time with my own dogs, and other peoples pets for a living. I truly wouldn't have it any different.

For years, my biggest dream was simple on paper and impossible in practice: earn my master's degree, solidify my Instructional II teaching certification, and grow into the kind of educator my students deserved. Twice, I got into graduate programs. And twice, I found out I was pregnant right after. Each time, I chose what felt like the only option: pause the dream and pour everything into being a present mom and a full-time teacher. I watched classmates post graduation photos while I graded papers on my couch, telling myself, "Someday." Eventually "someday" started to sound like "never." When I was accepted into the program where I graduated, I had just given birth to my third child. Logically, it was the worst timing. But something in me shifted. I realized that if I kept waiting for the "perfect" season, my kids would grow up learning that mom's dreams were negotiable. So I enrolled anyway. Nursing a newborn between discussion posts, writing papers in the car during soccer practice, waking up before dawn to finish readings — it was exhausting, imperfect, and exactly right. Coming back to this dream and actually finishing it rewired my confidence. It reminded me that I am not "just" a mom, "just" a teacher, or "just" anything: I am allowed to expand. Earning my master's didn't just advance my career; it sharpened my sense of purpose. Now, when I talk to my students about perseverance, I'm not speaking in cliches. I'm speaking from the middle of it, showing my kids and my classroom that sometimes the bravest thing you can do is pick an old dream back up and decide you're worthy of seeing it through. Next stop: Cynthia Valenti, Ed.D.

Dreams don't always happen while you sleep; sometimes they become your alarm clock….saying wake up, it's time to move forward.

When I was in college, I took a freshman writing class. In this class, I learned to write essays and short stories. I believe the class was meant to teach us how to write academic papers, but I don't remember that part of the course. I learned something else. I realized that I enjoyed writing. It was one of the few undergraduate classes I earned an A in, and for a while I thought it might be something to pursue. As the semesters passed, writing slipped quietly into the background. My coursework became heavier, my responsibilities greater. I still created stories in my mind, but I rarely put them on paper. Writing felt like a dream I couldn't afford. I needed to find a major and a career that offered financial security. Four degrees and two careers later, life brought me to a place I never expected. After I sustained a Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI), I started writing again. I wasn't writing as a hobby but as a lifeline. Throughout the healing process, I found myself writing down everything that was happening to me. I wrote about my symptoms, confusing medical advice, and my feelings and emotions about being a patient who is also a bedside nurse. At some point, I realized these writings had formed the foundation of a book. As a woman willing to try anything, I found the courage to turn them into a memoir to help at least one person navigate their own TBI experience. I've completed the first draft and the book proposal. The goal is to be published in 2026. As I have been writing this book, old story ideas have resurfaced, and my imagination has woken from a long rest. I have been writing other stories and noting ideas for future books. Writing didn't just help me heal; it reminded me who I was before life grew busy and practical. Now, I'm working toward making writing my third and final career. It feels bold to put this on paper, but it also feels right. I've learned that dreams don't expire; sometimes they wait for us to catch up. And after all these years, I'm finally stepping into the dream I left behind.