Reflection 21: It’s Not Burnout — It’s Redirection

I think I’m realizing that lately I’ve been in a small depression — not a “can’t find a job” depression, but a “my job doesn’t fulfill me the way it used to” kind of depression.

And that’s hard to admit.

I work at a college, and the simplest way I explain my job is that I’m basically a coordinator of fun. I work with clubs and organizations. I plan events. I order the free T-shirts, the ball caps, the food, the giveaways — all the things students get excited about. I get to be the fun one.

And for a long time, I loved that.

But lately, I’ve felt my fire fading.

Not completely going out — just shifting. It’s like the spark isn’t dying… it’s being redirected.

Because what I’m realizing is that my passion isn’t disappearing. It’s being ignited somewhere else.

It’s being ignited at home.

I have this growing desire to be more family-focused. To build a life centered around Jesus Christ. To cultivate a home that feels intentional and grounded. To slowly work toward the kind of life my husband and I have talked about for years — something closer to homesteading, something more self-sufficient, something where our work serves our family instead of pulling us away from it.

Starting this blog honestly felt like the first step in that direction. A small but real move toward building something of our own. Something that, one day, could allow me to work for my family instead of for an institution.

And I could go into all the complexities of working in higher education while being Catholic — because sometimes those worlds don’t blend seamlessly — but that’s not the point of this post.

The heart of it is this:

I’m struggling to maintain momentum in a career that no longer feels like my calling in this season.

When I first started, I felt like I was helping students grow. Helping them become leaders. Helping them develop life skills. And that mattered to me deeply.

But now, when I zoom out, my priority feels different.

My goal is no longer just helping students succeed.

My goal is helping my children get to heaven.

And in my mind, I can’t put students — as important as they are — above my own family. I can’t pour the majority of my energy into other people’s growth while feeling like I’m only giving my leftovers to my husband and children.

This season feels like it’s meant for pouring in.

Pouring into my marriage.
Pouring into my children.
Pouring into my faith.

And that shift has made my job feel… arbitrary. Not meaningless — but misaligned.

Three or four years ago, if you had told me I would want to leave my job, work from home, homeschool my kids, make sourdough from scratch, learn about tinctures, and build a self-sufficient lifestyle, I would have laughed.

But life changes you.
Marriage changes you.
Motherhood definitely changes you.

And what once felt ambitious now feels small compared to the eternal weight of raising souls.

This dream of building something for ourselves — it was actually my husband’s first. He saw it before I did. And instead of dragging me into it, he patiently let me grow into it. Now it feels like ours.

And I feel incredibly blessed.

Blessed to have a husband who supports this shift.
Blessed to even have the option to consider it.
Blessed to have a family worth restructuring my entire life for.

This post isn’t some dramatic announcement. It’s just honesty. You’re on this journey with us. As we try to build something different. As we try to be intentional. As we try to align our work with our faith and our family.

We’re trying to build community here, too. If something resonates with you, if you have thoughts or questions or topics you’d love for us to write about, we would genuinely love to hear from you. (captivating.catholics@gmail.com)

I’m still figuring it out. I think we all are.

But what I do know is this:

Losing passion for something doesn’t always mean you’re failing.

Sometimes it just means your heart is being redirected.

And today, I’m grateful — even in the uncertainty — because the fire isn’t gone.

It’s just burning at home.