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  • Writer: Rowena Poole | Mental Health Advocate | Guest Writer
    Rowena Poole | Mental Health Advocate | Guest Writer
  • Jul 18

It took me seven months after college graduation to land my first full-time job. I majored in animation—an extremely competitive field. Having a BA or BFA can make it excruciatingly difficult to find work. In my senior year of college, all the animation majors got to show off their senior film at the local movie theater. If it was good enough. The bar seemed very low. But for some reason, I didn’t make the cut. But then, to my knowledge, nobody in my graduating class had a job so quickly. Landing that job, even after seven months, felt like it was finally my time to shine.

Rebuilt by Kindness: Finding Hope in the Most Unexpected Places

It was a really boring job. I worked under contract, cutting up cardboard boxes and assembling mockup versions of toys for eight hours every day. I kept my head down, did what I was told, and displayed a very eager-to-learn version of myself. The job was not fulfilling. But at least I was employed, and at least I could say I had a real full-time job with hopes of finally moving out.


For some reason, they decided not to hire me full-time when the contract ended. They didn’t even tell me. I found out myself when my position was posted on Indeed. All this time, I wasn’t sure which would be better: to continue making money in a job I don’t enjoy during a time when the job market is terrible, or to have an opening and hope I’d have luck finding a job that better fits me. Turns out I didn’t get to choose. I felt a mix of relief, fear, and anger. How could they go behind my back like that? Being a temporary employee doesn’t mean I should be flung aside. Nothing was ever said to me about a lack of performance. When I confronted them, they briefly mentioned my leadership skills could use some work. I was working as an assistant, doing the things they didn’t have time to do themselves. What exactly was I supposed to lead? They had a lot of nerve saying that to me, when they never demonstrated leadership skills to me. A true leader would have led me. I was their golden opportunity to show off their leadership skills. But instead of leading me in whatever I lacked, they cut me off like a wart.


It didn’t quite hit me until I noticed the two men I worked with exit the room with some notebooks. It was clear they were off to interview someone while I was still working there. I called my mom during working hours in tears. It was Tuesday, and I decided to quit at the end of the week, two weeks before my contract would end. I would rather have those two weeks to look for work than to stay at a job where I didn’t like how I was treated. They would whisper in front of me, excluding me from necessary company conversations, and not even telling me that they did not want to continue with my application, or why. I still don’t know why. But I’ve decided that I don’t care. The reason probably has more to do with them than it does with me.


Sitting in the Discomfort


The devastation sat with me for a long time. I found out they were not going to extend my contract Memorial Day Weekend in 2024, while I was enjoying a weekend away in New York. I confronted them on the Tuesday we were back. When I heard their answer, I couldn’t even tell my parents for a few days. I stayed working for several more weeks, not exactly sure how to feel. It was bittersweet, and I was okay with that. I started looking and interviewing at a few places, nothing full-time, but just a buffer job that would keep me afloat until I could find something a bit more related to my field. Except it was tough to interview because I was still working under contract, which meant I couldn’t take a few hours off work to meet any potential employers. I did not see how truly stuck I was, blind to the sticky peanut butter surrounding me, originating from this job. I trudged forward, forcing myself to walk through the knee—deep, thick, invisible, peanut butter. I told myself it would be over soon, so I continued to allow myself to get smothered in more peanut butter.


The phone call I had with my mom almost one month later helped me realize how bad the situation was for me. I was trapped in a place that I couldn’t interview elsewhere, in a place where I had been shafted. I could finally see the peanut butter everywhere. It was probably up to my waist at that point. I had to do something about it, and I had to start taking care of myself. It was not an easy decision to quit early, but my mental health had to come first. The peanut butter had to go. I came back the next day with a resignation notice. All that was asked was if I had another opportunity lined up for me. I was honest. I said no. That was that. Had they asked for honest feedback, I would have given it to them. But they didn’t, and that’s on them for not wanting to improve.


In the few weeks that followed, I felt a little bit better that I was no longer working at that place. The peanut butter was swallowed with them. But as time continued to pass with no offers, I felt panic begin to set in. I was too far into the working world to go back to retail, but I was not yet experienced enough to do almost anything else. The relief was short-lived, and I was back to feeling like I was not good enough. The job was not just a way for me to make money. It felt like my chance to show that I could be good enough. But I lost it, just as I had not been accepted to show my senior film. I was moving backwards in life. What was I doing wrong?


To fill my time, I continued to hustle my art. I animate for myself a little bit, I operate a very small Etsy shop, and I write for Moody Melon. At a very low point in this situation, I honestly asked a very close and important person in my life what I do well that nobody else does. The answer really helped me. It may have been just to make me feel better, but I took it very seriously. I am very good at making animal ceramic mugs. All I needed to hear was one thing that I knew I could do.


Reframing the Loss


This was not something I could look at in a new way on my own. I spoke to my therapist about it a lot. While I was in work, she mentioned that I didn't seem happy there. I knew that I wasn’t exactly joyous, but the mindset of having a job during these hard times was enough to convince myself it wasn’t so bad.


Once I was out of work, she pointed out that I had been saying how much I wanted to have more time to focus on my art. I had wanted to expand my portfolio, make more things to sell at art markets, and also use the extra time to find my true potential. Now is the time when I can afford to do all that. I haven’t moved out yet, so I have no rent to pay. I can quite literally afford to have time now. One thing I learned is that it’s very difficult to both make money and have time. Right now, my life is focused on having the time I wanted.


Of course, I needed something to keep me afloat to pay for gas, food, and the opportunity to do things with friends that may cost money. I finally put my nail technician license to use and landed a part-time job at a nail salon. The paychecks are not even half of what I used to make, but they are enough to fill my tank and pay for occasional goodies such as art supplies. Things are not moving forward very quickly in the sense of saving up for moving out, but I don’t feel that I am moving backward anymore. I am simply staying at a point that is necessary in order for me to move forward in other aspects of my life. While I still occasionally get anxious about money, I remind myself that this time is what I have wanted for a long time. This exact point in my life is temporary. This, too, shall pass with the goal of moving forward.


Finding the Opportunity


The first thing I started doing semi-regularly after losing my job was going to the gym. I had wanted to find a good time that worked for me when the gym wasn’t too crowded. Late mornings, when I would typically be at work, were a good time to do that. I could finally animate again, as I was not drained from a long day of boring work. I could make more things for my Etsy shop. I had more time to look for jobs and write better cover letters. Of course, the market is still terrible, and I’ve had no luck, but I felt better about the jobs I did apply for. I started writing more, reworking my novel I’ve been writing since middle school. I finally got a place where I can send it to literary agents—for the second time. Again, a very difficult market, but I feel good about the place the book is at now. Most importantly, I have enough time to go to the ceramic studio.


When I was told that I make ceramic animal mugs very well, that stuck with me. I was still at work at the time, but I had looked online for affordable ceramic studio memberships. Everything in Boston is ridiculously expensive, but there was one place in Lowell that was fairly priced. It was thirty minutes away from North Andover, where I worked, and I thought I could make the balance work. Looking back now that I no longer have that job, I realize it’s a lot more time to dedicate to ceramics than I would have had time for while working full time. I did not join the studio membership right away, as I wanted to make sure I was going to get hired after my contract ended. It turns out that not being hired was exactly what I needed to go forth with the studio membership.


As I continue to create this summer, I have a goal of working part-time while focusing most of my time and energy on exploring paths and finding my potential. I want to move from Etsy to my own online store. I want to make as many tangible pieces as possible to sell at art fairs this fall. I want to submit to as many literary agents as possible. I hope to have something accomplished with a true definition of myself by the fall. I have time now. I’m going to use it to really hustle and focus on myself.



A Mindset That Applies to More Than Just Jobs


I know that my story is a very personal and specific one. I’d really like to open up about how the right mindset can help you overcome anything. Whether you’re like me and you’ve lost a job, or you’re struggling with something else, such as a relationship, a move, or regrets, just know that your thinking can help you move forward. What’s a new light or angle you haven’t considered looking at the problem in? You lost something, but what can you gain from this? Perhaps it’s a lesson that makes you stronger, wiser, or better. Maybe it’s more time. The one thing we can never get back. Maybe it’s a new and unexpected relationship.


This is not to say that whatever struggles you may have are not there. But looking at something positive, having good people who have your back, can help you see the other side of the situation. It’s the other side that we need to get to, and it’s important that it’s as accessible as possible. The other side may not be what you expect either. My thoughts were that I was just going to find another job, with little gigs in between. But I was able to look at the opportunity that was right in front of me: time. Things aren’t moving as quickly forward as I hoped, but I would gladly sacrifice that for the time I now see that I have.


From Fear to Freedom


This is not all said and done. Moving through life, whether you’re going forward quickly or staying stationary to figure things out, there are plenty of ups and downs. I try to prepare myself and keep an open mind about what may happen. However, things don’t happen when you wait. I keep my mind open, but I actively explore my options. I actively apply to jobs, actively create, and actively research. I also try to now recognize when I’m walking through peanut butter.



Goals are excellent to have, but it is incredibly freeing when you have multiple goals in several different fields of life. I have a goal of taking the summer to explore, and a goal of finding something that clicks by the fall. What that could be, is anything. Maybe I will extend my hours at the nail salon, maybe I will still work part-time, but I will be much more comfortable having an online store. Maybe my book will finally get accepted by an agent. Who knows, maybe I will still be figuring things out. That’s okay. It’s okay to forgive yourself for not meeting your goals right away. They will always be there, waiting for you when you’re ready.


Doors close all the time—and we don’t often get a say in which ones do. But it’s important to pause and reflect, look at your options. There may be a door right in front of you, which would be the obvious one. But look left and right, at the off-center doors. They might take you down a different path, and that path might be better. You get to choose which door you open next. If you’re stuck in peanut butter and feeling scared, you are not alone, just as I am not alone. Clean up that peanut butter! An ending can be hard, sticky, and scary, but the next beginning might be something better.


💬 Ready to start your own healing journey?


Book a session with one of our compassionate therapists at Moody Melon Counseling. We’re here when you’re ready. 🍉


Carlie Malott

Rowena Poole

Mental Health Advocate | Guest Writer of Moody Melon Magazine

I am a multimedia storyteller with a passion for supporting mental well-being. With a background in animation and creative writing, I use my skills to share meaningful messages that promote understanding and positive change.

More Related Articles:


  • Writer: Rowena Poole | Mental Health Advocate | Guest Writer
    Rowena Poole | Mental Health Advocate | Guest Writer
  • May 4
Rebuilt by Kindness: Finding Hope in the Most Unexpected Places

At just sixteen years old, I needed help. I don’t remember much about the preceding days. It crept up on me. I was a frog in boiling water, unaware of the decline in my mental health. When I was finally forced to pay attention, I had hope that my parents could help me. Maybe they did try at first to no avail, but I was sent away. I was too caught up in my own drowning, that I didn’t look to see what they were doing. It still feels like they gave up on me too quickly.


The Breaking Point: When the World Feels Too Heavy


I found myself in a strange place, surrounded by other young adults like me. There were art supplies, puzzles, and games. But we were all treated like inmates.


I tried to heal there. I kept my head down, put in the effort, but nobody acknowledged it. I was never sent home. Was I seen as being manipulative? Only saying what the professionals wanted to hear? Days turned into months, and eventually all I could do was sit on my bed and cry. I was alone and powerless. I had no legal say in the matter, the matter that centered around me. My parents had given up and abandoned me. They would not take me home. I was stuck.


The People You Least Expect


First, it was just me. But then there was a nice girl or two whom I could talk to. It was not a cure, but it did make the situation feel slightly less intimidating. There were some staff members who were extra kind. They would tell me what was happening behind closed doors. It gave me a slight twinge of hope that things could be okay.


Finally, finally, after seven months, I was free. It has been seven years since then, and I continue to find new people who fix something they did not break. In the beginning, there were classmates who were surprisingly understanding. New friends in my later teen years who never judged. Old friends who have seen every side of me and never abandoned me. People come and go. A lot of the people who helped put me back together, even if they had no idea they were doing it, are no longer active in my life. But I never forgot who they once were to me.



I currently have a nice group of friends, whom I grew close to during my senior year of college. Some of them know more details than others, but they are all part of my support system, all the same. Some people are good to talk to, and some people are good to escape from the world for a little while with. People build each other up in many different ways.


Trust Reimagined: Learning to Believe Again


I realized that I can be open and honest with certain people. While I still avoid telling my parents anything, I currently have a nice handful of people I know I can trust. It was not easy to get here. In the past seven years, several people have left my life of their own volition. Several people have still broken me. Learning to trust anyone in life is a trial-and-error sport. I have learned that the best approach is to go slowly. Find people you enjoy spending time with. Try to open up a crack of something personal. If the action is reciprocated, then it might be safe to dive deeper. The ironic part for me, was that the deeper I dove in, the less I felt like I was drowning.


I could breathe.


I have people I can go to on a regular basis with any sort of problem, and I know they will be there to help. The scariest part is over. The trust is there. It started small, but I worked hard at growing it.


Moments That Mattered: Tiny Acts, Big Healing


The small act of staying judgment-free talks millions. There have been times when I would need a friend to help get me through a situation. Sometimes I would not want to talk about it, and letting it rest really helped me process. Other times, I would engage in deep conversation with those who are a little closer to me. There have been times I had a conversation with a close friend, and there have been times when I’ll just watch a movie with someone and bury the hard times in a big bowl of ice cream. Sometimes it’s simply the presence of someone you love and care about that’s enough for you. They never judge. They never pry. They are there for you when you need them, ready with a hug and an ear.


What I Would Tell Someone Who Is Losing Faith


I know what it’s like. I lived through it myself. Your anger and your pain are justified. When the world seems too dark, remember that I am living proof that it does get better. There are people who are here for you. You may not know them yet, and they may not be who you expect. It does get better. I know you’re tired of hearing that. But you do not need to go through this alone. Keep fighting, and you will find the people who will help build you back up. You might be surprised how many good people there still are in the world. You might surprise yourself with how strong and brave you can be. The bravest thing you can do right now is continue forward. I believe in you. Please believe in yourself.



Still Healing, Still Human


I continue on my journey after seven years, and for all the years that lie ahead. It was not a one-and-done situation. Some of my relationships and trust have been permanently damaged. I go forth with an understanding that it is inevitable I will be hurt again. That being said, I also know that there will be new people and new relationships to nurture. All I can do is hope that I can work hard enough to make the best ones last.


Since getting through the darkest of times at sixteen, I have graduated from both high school and college. I work hard at earning things I want. I share my stories. I made some excellent friends. I have also lost friends, been heartbroken, been devastated, and had to make really tough decisions. But I learned that life has its ups and downs. Making a really hard choice can ultimately be better for your mental health. I speak with a therapist twice a month to stay as on track as possible. I picked up a plethora of coping skills throughout the years, and I continue to use the ones that work. I need to work through my trauma responses and the lasting effects.


Scars can heal. The ones that didn’t got covered up by a beautiful tattoo that I am proud to show off. The best thing we can do is continue to learn, to grow, to speak, and to help.


💬 Ready to start your own healing journey?


Book a session with one of our compassionate therapists at Moody Melon Counseling. We’re here when you’re ready. 🍉



Carlie Malott

Rowena Poole

Mental Health Advocate | Guest Writer of Moody Melon Magazine

I am a multimedia storyteller with a passion for supporting mental well-being. With a background in animation and creative writing, I use my skills to share meaningful messages that promote understanding and positive change.

More Related Articles:


You Are Not a Burden, but a Gift: How Building a Support System Saved Me from Depression and Anxiety

I often woke up every few hours, feeling that the whole world was moving forward, and I was the only one trapped. Anxiety, depression, and the obsessive thinking that everyone I met hated me felt tangled. But reality never stopped because of my emotions: graduation was approaching, I had not found a job yet, and the world situation felt chaotic. I pretended to be normal while participating in social activities, career fairs, and volunteering to prove I was still valuable.


I dared not tell anyone.


I tried therapy, but I didn’t think it helped much at the time. When I would have video calls with my family, I only listened, because I felt everyone was busy and I couldn’t burden them with how I was feeling inside.


So I chose silence. This silence made me feel my psychological distance from people around me was growing, and I started to doubt the authenticity of everything surrounding me—the people, the connections, and the reality itself. Finally, the feeling of "opening my eyes, seeing the dawn, and hating myself for living another day" was too desperate to ignore. 


Seeking Professional Help


That day, I finally walked into the psychological counseling emergency room of the school hospital. There, I was referred to an off-campus therapist who specialized in the kind of support I needed. I felt so lucky I didn’t give up seeking professional help, as I found a suitable therapist this time. She was not the kind of therapist who seemed scripted or distant, but spoke with me sincerely. She was able to keenly perceive that many of the thoughts that made me fall into self-blame were rooted in cultural misunderstanding and unfamiliarity with American society.



She would gently explain things to me, clear up my misconceptions, and sometimes even take our sessions outside, walking by a sunlit lake near the clinic. I still remember walking home from that session, feeling—maybe for the first time in months—a sense of peace instead of panic. I wasn’t overwhelmed by the sound of my racing heartbeat anymore. Instead, a quiet, unfamiliar calm settled over me, surprising but steady.


Reconnecting with the People Who Love Me Most


But professional help, as essential as it was, wasn’t enough. True emotional recovery required me to reconnect with the people who loved me most.


Since my mental health became problematic, I intentionally reduced the frequency of calls with my family because I didn’t want them to worry and was afraid that my negative mood would affect them. I avoided talking about myself, just listening to them talk about their problems, and trying to offer positive emotional value.


On the surface, our communication seemed optimistic, but I felt more and more lonely and depressed. Until one day, my mother, grandmother, and aunt gathered together and asked me about my plans after graduation—stay or return to China, continue in HR or try something new. I was silent for a while, and said in a very soft voice: "I'm really sorry, I can't answer these questions now, because I panic for no reason every day. My only wish now is to live every day in peace."


I regretted it after I said it. I feared these negative emotions would bring unnecessary worries to my family thousands of miles away. But I didn’t expect that their responses would surprise me.


Grandma said that she also experienced anxiety and panic when she was young. Mom and Aunt told me that those voices like"Your life is meaningless" are our brains lying to us. They said: "You are not the first to experience this, and you will not be the last. We’ve been there too. And we made it through."


They accompanied me to calm down, pray, talk, and share their stories. After listening, I did feel much calmer, but I still couldn’t help but apologize, saying that I shouldn’t bring these negative things to them. But they whispered back, "We’ve been waiting for you to open up. And as we say these words to you, we’re also repeating them to ourselves—because we all need to be reminded, again and again."


At that moment, I finally understood: asking for help is not a burden, but an invitation to connection and mutual healing.



Self-Reflection and Self-Reconciliation


After recovering a little bit, I began to try to organize myself by writing self-reflections. I gradually realized that my anxiety and depression may come from a deep sense of lost control. As a highly sensitive introvert, especially a woman who grew up in an East Asian environment that advocates "think twice before you speak," it can be exhausting to study a business major that values high-intensity self-expression and charismatic leadership.


In one of my reflection papers, I wrote: If most business school students are like blooming flowers—vibrant and expressive—then I am more like water. Quiet, adaptable, invisible, but essential.


I nourished flowers from below for so long, alone, that sometimes I felt drained and unseen. I tried to become a flower too—but some things, like our temperament and values, can't be trained away. And that left me wondering if I truly belonged.


I sent this text to my friend Zoe, an education Ph.D. candidate, and I've always felt that she was what I wanted to be—gentle, caring, wise, and resilient. I told her: "I really hope I can be like you."


She immediately replied: "The world does not need another Zoe. It only needs a unique Linda."


What she said made me stop and think thoroughly—yes, we each came into this world with a unique talent. Our existence itself is an exceptional grace. I don’t need to be more like others to be more valuable. I deserve to be seen.


From that day on, I regained some control over my life. I no longer felt powerless and desperate when I got up, but felt that I had a mission: Today I will use my unique talent to create value for the world again.  I know I cannot guarantee that everyone around me will embrace or appreciate me. But I will keep turning my vulnerability into strength—to bring light to those in need.


💬 Ready to start your own healing journey?


Book a session with one of our compassionate therapists at Moody Melon Counseling. We’re here when you’re ready. 🍉



Carlie Malott

Linda Liu

Mental Health Advocate | Guest Writer of Moody Melon Magazine

I am a graduate student at the University of Minnesota, passionate about fostering authentic human connection and emotional well-being in professional and personal spaces. I am a certified Mental Health First Aider by the National Council for Mental Wellbeing. I write to honor vulnerability, resilience, and hope.

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