Sabrina’s story:

The hospital’s ICU was freezing. Not just cold in the way a room feels, but the kind of cold that seeps into your bones, making you feel small, fragile, and utterly powerless. Machines beeped around me, their rhythm a haunting reminder of how close I had come to losing everything. I lay there, staring at the ceiling, my body weak as blood was being transfused, my mind racing with questions I wasn’t ready to answer. How did I let it get this far? How did I let my job consume me to the point of breaking?

For years, I ignored the warning signs. The sleepless nights, the constant stress, the doctor’s advice I brushed off because I had “too much to do.” Work wasn’t just a priority—it was my identity. It was my purpose. I thought if I just worked harder, achieved more, I’d finally feel whole. But instead, I pushed myself to the brink. And there I was, lying in a hospital bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering if I’d ever get the chance to make things right.

The truth is, I’ve been fighting silent battles my whole adult life. Some days, I felt like I was drowning, gasping for air, but I kept going, even when I didn’t want to. I thought if I just worked harder, I could outrun the darkness. But the harder I ran, the more it consumed me. And now, my body has finally given out. I had worked myself to the edge of death, placing my value and worth in the output I produced at work. I had sacrificed everything—my health, my joy, my peace—for a job that would have replaced me in a heartbeat.

Recovery was… messy. It wasn’t just the physical healing, it was the emotional weight of realizing how far I had let things spiral. It was the guilt of knowing I had ignored my own needs for so long. It was the grief of accepting that I would never be the same. But amidst the pain, there was clarity. I had to ask myself some hard questions: What am I doing? Why am I here? What really matters?

And slowly, I started to find answers.

I left the corporate world. I had to. It wasn’t just a job I was leaving—it was a mindset. For so long, I measured my worth by how much I could produce, how much revenue I could generate. But that way of thinking nearly killed me. So I made a choice: I would no longer live to work. I would work to live. And more importantly, I would work to make a difference.

That choice led me to Crisis Text Line as a Sr. Digital Marketing Manager. For the first time, I felt like my work wasn’t just a job—it was a mission. Every campaign I worked on, every message I crafted, was a lifeline for someone in need. Sometimes, I would picture my 14-year-old sister and think about how I could craft messaging that might reach her or her friends. I wasn’t chasing profit margins anymore; I was chasing impact. And it changed everything. I started to see success not as a number on a spreadsheet, but as the lives we touched, the people we helped. It was purposeful. It was human. It was everything I had been searching for.

When my colleagues nominated me for the “Connect with Empathy” award, I was floored. I’ve always prided myself on showing up authentically, on seeking to understand others, on having the hard conversations that so often go unspoken. But to have that recognized by the people I worked with was humbling. It reminded me why I do what I do. It reminded me that empathy isn’t just a value; it’s a way of life.

But my journey didn’t stop there. Recovery has taught me the value of joy, of comfort, of the small things that make life worth living. For me, that joy has come in the form of my three emotional support animals. They’ve been my anchors during the storm, offering unconditional love and solace when I needed it most. And now, I want to share that gift with others.

My dream is to start my own nonprofit, one that connects the mental health community with emotional support animals (ESA). I want to make the process of adopting an ESA simple, accessible, and filled with hope. It’s a deeply personal mission, born out of my own experiences and my unwavering belief in the power of connection. Every email I send, every post I share, is infused with the same empathy and purpose that has guided me since my time in the ICU.

This journey hasn’t been easy. Recovery is challenging. Growth is painful. But it’s also beautiful. I’ve learned to listen to my body, to my heart, to the people around me. I’ve learned to set boundaries, to say no, to protect my joy. And I’ve learned that my purpose is so much bigger than a paycheck. If there’s one thing I hope my story can teach you, it’s this: Take the time off. Set boundaries. Protect your joy. And never forget that you are more than your work!

I’m still healing. I’m still learning. But for the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m on the right path. And that has to count for something, right? Here’s to the next chapter in this big, beautiful book of life. ❤️

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If you are struggling and need to reach out to someone, Crisis Text Line is here for you. Text CONNECT to 741741 to reach a live volunteer Crisis Counselor. Free, confidential, 24/7.

Interested in sharing your story too? Each month, we will be posting stories from our community to help inspire and connect with others who may be going through similar experiences. Submit your story today! It can make a big difference in helping others feel seen, validated, and less alone.