Around the time that I turned 18 and my friends went off to college, I started getting the dreaded question. The one we ask far too much to teenagers just stumbling into adulthood: what do you want to do with your life? For me, I’d already narrowed it down to two options. I could do therapy or writing.
These two professions made the most sense. I’d grown up fascinated by mental health and human psychology. From a young age, I was always the dude people talked to when they had problems. The future was vague and shapeless, but if I squinted, I could see myself doing therapy of some kind. It made sense.
On the other hand, writing lived in my DNA. Continue reading…