So You’re a Tech Worker Who Wants to Be a Therapist…

(Views are my own, and are not affiliated with my university or training clinic).

Hi. I’m Jenn. I’m a child of immigrants, extroverted introvert, coffee lover, hiker, native San Franciscan, and resident of sunny San Diego.

I’m also a former tech worker who transitioned into the mental health world to become a therapist.

Over the past few years, I’ve experienced a variety of reactions to my exit from the tech world. Skepticism, inspiration, and curiosity, to name a few.

Additionally, I’ve had people throughout my network reach out at one point or another, wanting to know the mechanics of my move, with an underlying question — how does it feel to be on the other side? And in that question, is a bundle of other, smaller questions: What’s it like to start over in a career? Was the meaning worth the convenience I gave up? Would I do it again, knowing what I know now?

In the beginning of my journey, I was on a personal high from how brave and maybe reckless this move felt — even though it was years in the making. That fueled me to have conversations with people who were on the precipice of where I was going. I wanted to show people that there was an alternative to the “stuckness”, the “golden handcuffs”, the “quiet quitting” that is so prevalent in the tech world.

Looking back on these early days of leaving my client accounts behind and becoming a student on a campus again, I was driven by passion and ego. I was "that person" who walked away from Barry’s classes, food delivery, and all-expenses paid business trips. I was "that person" who shifted from venting about tech, to choosing a world of personal growth, introspection, and cultural shifting. I got out and knew that one day I'd be yelling, “Hey! There’s an escape route over here!”

However, as time went on, the demands of my transition made advising conversations more draining for me. I’ve never doubted my decision, and I find more fulfillment in my work than I ever have. This is not a job to me; it’s a calling, a preferred way of being in the world, a generative practice where all the material of my life is applied to healing the world. I would make this move over and over again.

At the same time, there are some very practical and existential questions I am now sitting with, like: do I have enough energy today for an hour-long advisory phone call? What would it be like to split my time between therapy and consulting, to set the stage for having a family? Am I just another voice in “influencer” culture, if I post my learnings to social media? How do I re-establish financial comfort, knowing that I am committed to being a therapist and healer, moving forward?

As I sit with these questions, I’m noticing a need to sit with my own questions first, before comforting other people about theirs. There is value in community, and there is also value in defining what you're responsible for, in others' lives.

A lot of people frequently share they're concerned about the cost of school. A lot of people are worried about not “making as much” or “supporting the lifestyle” they’re used to. A lot of people constantly dip their toe into the pool of possibilities, but they’re not really ready to swim. A lot of people struggle with the tug-of-war between comfort and purpose.

These challenges are resonant, because they were all things that were on my mind for years. I was terrified of leaving the tech world as I continued to advance in my client expertise and my salary. As the only child of an immigrant single parent, I felt safe in the cozy embrace of financial comfort, which we didn't have when I was growing up. As a tech worker, I could buy any experience I wanted, I had an impressive amount of dining points on my Chase Sapphire card, I bought staple wardbrobe items from Aritzia (#blessed), I helped my mom after her Covid layoff, and I had a sizable savings account. When I held all of these privileges in my mind, leaving tech felt like leaving freedom behind.

So, I worked with a financial planner to make sure I did things carefully and sustainably, since I would be paying my entire way through school. I took online Psychology classes through UC Berkeley, to gauge my willingness to be a student again. I reviewed therapy programs that interested me, choosing Marriage & Family Therapy over Counseling because I wanted to work from the lens of systems and relationships. I co-founded a mental health employee resource group at my former company, giving me a chance to explore more structured projects on wellness. All of these micro-decisions helped me build a case in my head, to listen to my heart. And with that, I took the leap and officially enrolled in the MFT program at the University of San Diego, starting school in September 2021.

I still had all my fears about losing certain types of freedom - but with the "doing", came new definitions of freedom. And with full transparency, I can't motivate or persuade anyone to take that leap if they're not ready. So as much as advising is enjoyable for me, it is also imperative that I remind people to truly want what they want, rather than waiting for others to want it for them.

And I won't lie to you; this transition has been a long road, with unpredictable weather. I eat sardines with crackers for dinner, quite often. I’ve canceled on friends numerous times because I was more tired than I expected. I constantly negotiate with myself about whether I want to see someone I love, invest more time into treatment planning, or give myself time to rest. I put a lot of my clothes in bins, because opening a new bin every few months makes me feel like I’ve gone shopping. I’ve had anxiety about difficult cases. I’ve had insomnia when my schedule ramped up faster than I expected. I’ve had imposter syndrome when treating new diagnoses. I’ve been humbled by my learnings, over and over.

And also, I’ve also felt true meaning for the first time in my career, to the point where the word "career" feels hollow. I’ve felt deep, inimitable joy. I’ve felt indescribable gratification, witnessing a breakthrough or a change of heart or a person's reconnection to themselves. This industry has its challenges, but they're challenges I'm interested in solving. Everything I ever researched or cared about on a personal level, has found its way into my work. I’ve come in with a strong corporate skillset, the result of so many people's time invested in me. I’ve felt connected to humanity, to the point of tears. I’ve felt re-energized by the sheer force of will in a person committed to improving their lives. I’ve felt more hopeful than ever, that so many of us are making the world a little more stable, a little more spacious, a little more welcoming. I've celebrated wins, victories, and dreams, strengthened by the experience of our lives being more than just problems.

And as I sit with these experiences, feeling more aware of my humanity than ever, I feel less of a need to sit with the concerns of capitalism, broken systems, and fear. I want to focus my precious, limited energy on the stories I am hearing, and the story I am personally creating, which required so much sacrifice and community to manifest.

So, as an extension of this energy-protecting, I'm moving away from narrow narratives about “therapists being poor” or “therapists always burning out”. There is some reality in these words, and the fears they represent are legitimate. But they're incomplete stories. As someone who is making less money than I have historically, I have also grown more in touch with my needs than ever. Every day is filled with variety and opportunity. I am a more evolved human being, and I have developed an inner compass through my training that has given me so much peace and wisdom about the human experience. This inner compass has calmed me, when I am impacted by ideas like "salary" and "security" almost every day; while I often listen to my colleagues' frustrations about what's broken in the therapy industry; while I listen to yet another person share that they're afraid to make the leap from corporate to mental health. So if I were to zoom out beyond financial concerns or discomfort with change, I would emphasize that there is no transition in your life, no career of "purpose" or "fit", that will free you from the responsibility to cultivate your own inner compass. By investing this time into myself, I now spend my time as the author of my life, rather than someone who is waiting for everything to magically come together, or for opportunities to fall out of the sky and save me from malaise.

For this reason, I'm choosing to bookmark my story in this article, to show respect and humility for people on this journey. I understand the fear, and I'm here to tell you that instead of getting rid of it, you can live with it, and make decisions alongside it.

I am also choosing to value my time in a new way, charging a sliding scale consulting fee when people reach out to ask for the lived-experience knowledge I've gained through sacrifice, money, and time. This is not only a business practice, but a communal invitation to others, to support my self-advocacy.

Of course, not everyone wants to engage in paid consultations, and for this reason, I've decided to pen some questions below for anyone who is in that unique liminal space, torn between the security of a paycheck and the temptation of a new career. I encourage you to answer these questions for yourself, even if you have friends you consult, or loved ones whose advice can feel definite. Although these questions are specific to becoming a therapist, you could use them interchangeably for any career change you're curious about.

Questions to?consider

1. What do you know about therapy that feels important enough to even humor the idea of a career change?
2. What strengths or passions have you offered to the corporate space, that you’re feeling could translate to the mental health space?
3. What are some stories you might be holding about what it means to be a therapist? Where are these stories from? Do you believe them?
4. You’ve had the (money, lifestyle, financial stability) in this current life. What have those resources contributed to your life? What might they have minimized or subdued in your life?
5. If you feel connected to yourself currently, is there some part of that connection you fear will be lost in starting a new career?
6. If you don’t feel connected to yourself currently, what do you think a transition to mental health will do for that connection?
7. What do you know about different ways of being a therapist (MFT, LPCC, therapist/coach, therapist/consultant)? How would these options or different paths influence your decision making?
8. Are any parts of your life “held hostage” by your finances, that might be affected by starting a new career? How important are these areas for your decision-making? Are there any back-up options or resources that others would know about in this area?
9. Is there a future you’re assuming you’d have by starting over, or by becoming a therapist? How does this compare to previous assumptions you held about your future 1 year ago, 5 years ago, 10 years ago?
10. Who are some “tribal elders” you might consult with (financial planners, financial educators, therapists/consultants, therapists/coaches, current grad students) that might offer you different forms of knowledge to guide your decision-making?

I hope these questions are helpful in exploring your own relationship with work, meaning, and a possible transition to therapy. If you have additional questions, please feel free to reach out to me either by commenting here or contacting me directly (Linkedin is preferable if you don’t have my contact information).

Thank you for reading, and happy questioning! I hope you find the same peace and support that I did, as you live you way into your answers.