There are years that move in straight lines. Then there are years like mine, the kind where everything tilts a little and asks you to slow down long enough to notice what is actually happening. If you’ve been reading Help, Send Coffee, you already know this past academic year didn’t unfold the way I imagined. I started strong. I pushed hard. I tried to make a program fit that simply wasn’t meant for me. When the burnout arrived, it wasn’t the kind you fix with a weekend off. It was the kind that settles into your bones and makes you question your choices, your timing, your capacity, and your hope.
So I stepped away. I didn’t make a dramatic announcement. I didn’t try to spin it into something inspirational. I just set school down because I couldn’t hold it anymore. And I wrote about it, because writing is how I make sense of things that feel too heavy to carry alone.
Leaving SNHU wasn’t the hard part. The hard part was admitting that I wasn’t okay. SNHU wasn’t wrong or bad. It simply wasn’t mine. The pacing didn’t match my brain. The structure didn’t match my life. The experience didn’t match the kind of learner I’ve grown into. I’m someone who needs depth and connection. I need to feel like I belong in the work I’m doing. And I didn’t feel that there.
There is a particular ache that comes with stepping away from something you’ve invested time, money, and hope into. It feels like failure even when it isn’t. It feels like giving up even when you’re actually choosing yourself. But here is the truth I learned the hard way: sometimes the bravest thing you can do is stop. Stopping isn’t quitting. Stopping is listening. Stopping is healing. Stopping is clearing space for the thing that is meant for you.
For me, that thing was waiting at UNH. I didn’t realize how much I missed being a Wildcat until I became one again. UNH is where I learned how to think. It’s where I learned how to write. It’s where I learned how to ask better questions and expect better answers. It’s where I learned that education can feel like community instead of obligation. Returning now, older and steadier and more grounded, feels like stepping back into a version of myself I thought I had outgrown. She’s still here. She’s just wiser. She’s tired in a different way. She’s ready for something that feels like home.
This isn’t a restart. It’s a return.
My first course back is HLTC 800, Health Care Delivery and Innovations. It feels almost poetic that this is where I begin again. The class explores how healthcare systems are built, how policy shapes care, how innovation becomes reality, and how leaders manage change inside complicated systems. It’s the kind of learning that doesn’t float above real life. It sits right in the middle of it. It connects directly to the work I do every day in Patient Family Relations where the cracks and strengths of the system show themselves in real time. This isn’t abstract. This is lived experience finally getting language. I’m excited because I’ll be working on an actual MS in Healthcare Management, not just an MS in Management with a concentration in Healthcare. Everything I study will be rooted in Healthcare, not just business.
Going back to school after stepping away isn’t a redemption story. It’s the moment where you finally trust yourself enough to choose the right thing, even if the path wasn’t linear and even if the pause felt uncomfortable. I’m not returning because I’m supposed to. I’m returning because I’m ready. I’m returning because I want to finish strong. I’m returning because UNH feels like the place where I can grow without losing myself in the process.
Here’s to the next chapter. Here’s to being a Wildcat again.
Help! Send Coffee! 