I keep repeating, “I am good at a lot of things, but not all things are good for me.” It’s been my mantra for navigating my career transition and figuring out what’s next. It’s what I tell myself when I am tempted to cave to the fear and submit 20 applications to jobs that will inevitably tank my health again. It’s what I choose to believe when I feel that lingering anxiety of trying to explain that I no longer want a career I had for almost 15 years. It’s the phrase I hold tight, as I worry one day someone else will confront me about this choice or press me with how ill could I have actually been (very, but it was invisible to most).

There is an ache that comes with trying to maintain that perspective, though, in the in-between. New dreams and goals are hard, too, just in different ways. I’ve submitted applications and interest where I could see myself fitting, where I could see myself even thriving, potentially. I haven’t gotten very sad losing out on another legal job. I almost feel as if I dodged another risk, and can reflect on it as a sign that it is no longer for me, it no longer serves me.

But, when it’s something fragile and new—writing, editing, publishing—it takes work to maintain perspective. I am still trying to picture myself in those selective ranks with a voice that matters, either of its own accord or in elevating others. When there are losses of opportunities I never had the chance to hold, even briefly, there’s the slow, insidious creep of “What else could l have done?” This is quickly followed by, “Maybe there was nothing wrong. Maybe I am just not enough.”

Because of experience, though, I can interrogate that thought pattern and not buy into the imposter syndrome I dealt with for far too long. I can say, “I’m disappointed, but this is not hopeless. I will keep trying.” I can choose to believe there will be a time when it works out. Until then, I will keep writing and learning. I will navigate this with grace and keep looking for opportunities that help me find a path to where I hope to be. I will find joy in the in between for what it is—the chance for opportunities, including to slow down, to appreciate what I have (love, family, passion, words to share), and to keep such precious things when the next door opens.