The Role Was Right, But It Still Felt Wrong

There’s a quiet confusion that sets in when you land the job you worked so hard for, only to realize… it’s not actually working for you.

I’m a Director of Admissions, a role typically found in private schools. It sounds important, and technically, it is. I answer phones, send emails, design content, give tours, conduct interviews, assess students, and enroll families, all in the name of keeping a school alive and well. In education, I’m considered the revenue generator. Outside of education, people hear my job title and ask if I teach.

The role offers a lot: stability, good pay, and community. It comes with a level of impact and visibility I tend to crave. But somewhere along the line, the title stopped feeling like a badge of honor and started feeling like an outfit I couldn’t quite get comfortable in.

The higher I climbed, the clearer it became

For a long time, I assumed the discomfort would fade once I got to a leadership position. I figured it was just the pressure I felt (i.e., the long hours, the emotional output, the sales-y push). Or that maybe I just hadn’t found the right school yet. But then I switched schools... twice! And I got promoted. And what became clear is that the title and the place weren’t the problem. The role itself simply wasn’t a perfect fit.

It’s not that I couldn’t do the work. I’ve done it well for years, even made a name for myself. But I began to feel the difference between being capable and being aligned. This role demands the use of skills I’ve mastered but don’t enjoy. It leans hard on analysis, logistics, and nonstop interfacing with people. And while I can smile through a school tour and build out an enrollment funnel with the best of them, it all pulls from a part of me that runs on fumes.

I’m naturally introspective, creative, and warm, but not particularly energized by constant extroversion. I’m equal parts analytical and artistic; a thoughtful strategist who loves beautiful things and meaningful stories. And this job is mostly numbers, pressure, and performative enthusiasm. The kind where you walk families through a campus while internally wondering how to make a program sound compelling when you weren’t in the room for its creation, and don't always agree with the direction.

Even when I feel proud of the work I do, it doesn’t quite feel like me.

The slow ache of misalignment

Misalignment doesn’t always come in loud moments. Sometimes it’s the quiet dread of Monday mornings. The quick temper you never used to have. The exhaustion that lingers, no matter how much sleep you get. It’s the way every task feels so much heavier than it used to.

I used to feel tethered to this role, like it was my crown jewel. Now, I can feel myself detaching, almost like my spirit is trying to sneak out the back door hoping the rest of me will follow. I’ve started seeing the job less as a career and more as a bridge. A good bridge, absolutely. A necessary one. But not the final destination.

There’s a certain grief in that, especially for high achievers like me. I don’t like feeling stuck. I don’t like admitting that something I built a whole career around might not be for me anymore. And yet, here I am.

The dream that keeps tapping me on the shoulder

Even while I’ve been coming to this realization, I’ve been building my dream in the background. Running a branding agency — NewVision Creative Co. — helping coaches and creatives craft their digital presence and tell better stories. Building brand strategy frameworks, managing client projects, and creating social content that actually resonates.

Also helping my husband build his vision, from football social media to his brand, Respect the Whistle. Designing merch drops, building websites, editing video, and managing launches all with purpose and polish.

That version of me feels alive. Not always rested, not always balanced, but deeply in tune with myself. There’s joy in those tasks, even the tedious or confusing ones. There’s energy. There’s vision.

And once I started tasting what alignment felt like, it became harder to pretend I didn’t notice the absence of it elsewhere.

The identity shift that saved me

For a long time, being a Director was part of my identity. I clung to the title because it meant I had arrived. But lately, I’ve been allowing myself to let go of the title and the need to impress. I’ve stopped tying my self-worth to a job title. I’ve stopped believing I have to be in the room where everything happens in order to be successful.

Now, I see this role for what it is. It is something I can do well, but not forever. Something I can be grateful for, but not beholden to.

This job supports my family and allows me to build my business without rushing. It’s the reason I’ve been able to pay down debt, take vacations, and invest in myself. But it is no longer the center of my world. And that, in itself, feels like growth.

The not-so-glamorous middle

I haven’t quit. I haven’t gone full-time in my business. I’m still applying for roles that better match my gifts, ideally something in marketing, branding, or communications. And while I wait, I’m building. Slowly and strategically.

Yes, I still answer phones.
Yes, I still write emails that I wish I could add more creativity to.
Yes, I still attend meetings in which I have no opportunity to provide feedback.

But I’m also creating and designing. Helping people tell better stories. Helping myself step into mine.

The subtle signs that something needs to shift

If your job looks good on paper but feels off in your body, you’re not imagining things. And you’re not alone. Misalignment has a way of making everything harder than it has to be. And not in a dramatic, throw-your-laptop-out-the-window kind of way, but in a slow, soul-draining way that makes even the simplest task feel like a mountain.

Maybe your dreams are whispering louder these days. Maybe you’ve started a little side project just to remember what joy feels like. Maybe you’re not as patient, not as engaged, not as proud. Maybe the problem isn’t you. Maybe you’re just ready for something different.

A quiet, hopeful ending

I don’t have a perfect ending to this story. I don’t even have an ending! I’m still in the middle. But I do have a clearer sense of who I am and what I want.

I want to feel proud of my work again. I want to use my gifts, not just my skills. I want to spend my time creating things that light people up, that bring clarity and beauty to the world. I want to keep building NewVision. Keep helping my husband elevate his brand. Keep saying yes to the work that feels like mine.

And I want you, if you're reading this, to know that if your job no longer fits, it’s okay to name that. It’s okay to shift, to shed, to stretch. You don’t owe your life to a role that drains you. You’re allowed to move toward something better, even if it takes time.