Looking back, I lost or quit many jobs when I was younger without fully understanding why. I would overanalyze each situation, breaking it down into little things that seemed to justify the outcome, but I never truly saw the root cause.

Growing up in the 1970s, mental health was not something openly discussed. I wasn’t on medication, and I had no way of knowing what was really happening. I didn’t have access to Google, nor did we have computers at home. Sure, I could go to the library, but where would I even begin? What book, what topic? What would I tell a doctor? So, I chalked it up to normal life, I thought changing jobs frequently was just part of my path.

Years later, I finally started to see a pattern. The common denominator in my job losses wasn’t always the companies or the work; it was me. That realization hit while I was at the best job I’d ever had. It offered the most growth, extensive training, recognition, top pay, and great health benefits.

I know what you’re thinking: Don’t mess this up. And I tried not to.

After years of hard work and promotions, I moved from assembly to engineering. That’s where I truly thrived. I had an intuitive ability to interpret Smith chart patterns and translate them into mechanical solutions, often in my head. Some engineers would disagree with my ideas, and though I tried to explain, they couldn’t always follow. Eventually, I’d say something like, “The test data supports me,” and that usually ended the debate.

I began traveling across the U.S., filling in for engineers. The job kept growing in responsibility and pressure. I was running on very little sleep, unaware of the toll it was taking. Eventually, I had a major disagreement with the VP of Engineering, and we mutually agreed to part ways. That was the first time I recognized a repeating pattern in my career, and it wasn’t a good one. I still wasn’t medicated.

I continued down the same path with a new company, now traveling full-time. The lack of stability, combined with unmanaged mental health, pushed me closer to burnout. I began pushing the envelope with engineering solutions and had the test data to back it up, but despite my success, this job ended the same way: conflict and departure.

Then came another opportunity, same field, more travel. By the end, I was home just two days a month, trying to raise a family. The final straw was a massive panic attack, accompanied by other symptoms that overwhelmed me. I resigned and returned home immediately.

I made a lot of mistakes. But from those mistakes, my mental health journey began.

I started working with specialists, got on the right medication, and began learning how different jobs interacted with my new treatment plan. Yes, there were side effects, and yes, I was saddened to see my career shift in ways I hadn’t planned. But I wouldn’t change it.

The truth is, it’s never too late to begin focusing on your mental health. If you haven’t started your journey yet, I’m proud of you for even thinking about it. Take that first step, you won’t be disappointed.