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All my life there was only one thing I wanted to do. The way my parents tell it, I could read and write by the time I was two, and there was never any doubt in their minds I'd be a journalist. Al through school I topped my English classes and there was never any doubt in my mind either.
I left school, spent three years studying media arts with a journalism major and wound up with a job writing for a weekly newspaper. I thought it was the coolest job in the world. I couldn't flash enough business cards around and I never tired of seeing my name in print, however many articles I had published - and there were hundreds. I was incredibly passionate about newspapers and I knew there was nothing else I'd ever want to do. I dreamed of one day working for the New York Times and/or being a foreign correspondent. Rupert Murdoch was my idol.

But life hasn't turned out exactly the way I planned.
I left that newspaper job to travel the world, as people in their early 20s do. Wide-eyed, innocent and full of ambition, I jetted off to London with high hopes. Nearly two years later, after countless waitressing, office temp and nannying jobs, I came back disillusioned and more than a little bit cynical, but desperate to pick up my aborted journalism career.
When I did, though, I found the aforementioned passion wasn't quite as strong. I got a job editing for a community newspaper, a job that quickly grew to include writing as well. I was missing my life overseas and I thought that's why I wasn't enjoying newspapers quite as much. I quickly moved up the ranks and within a couple of years found myself at one of the country's biggest newspapers - quite an achievement in such a short time. But with each promotion the passion died a little more.
Sitting at home one day, the thought flashed through my brain that I didn't want to be a journalist anymore. I crushed the thought quickly. I couldn't bear the thought of all the training, all my hard work to get where I was going to waste. How could I turn my back on it all?
But then I read a line in a book. It said something like this:
"Have the courage to give up. If you realise the path you have started on is not truly you, walk away. This takes courage because sometimes it means turning your back on things you care about. Turning your back on something you have started can make you feel like a failure, but the reality is that you are a lot closer to success because you have worked out what you do not want to do."
And I realised how perfectly that statement summed up my situation. There was nothing holding me to journalism except my own stubborness. It was time to be honest with myself; admit that the career I'd once loved had become nothing but a job I hated. So I walked away.
I now work in PR and have never been happier. I have a job that's the envy of many and two years on I still look forward to getting to work most days. I thought I'd regret leaving newspapers but I've never looked back. I'll never be a foreign correspondent, will never work for the New York Times, but life couldn't be more perfect.

Learn more about this author, Justine Southwick.
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