Following My Dream Made Me Unemployable

There’s a strange irony in life. You grow up being told to follow your dreams, to aspire, to envision a life that fulfills you, and to chase it with all your might. It’s the stuff movies are made of, the essence of motivational speeches, and the heart of countless self-help books. Yet, no one tells you the unpolished truth: sometimes, following your dream makes you unemployable. And not because you lack skills, experience, or determination — but because you outgrow the system you once thrived in.

Let me explain.

When I decided to follow my dream, it wasn’t a decision made lightly. I had a well-paying job, a steady career trajectory, and a routine that society would applaud. But deep down, I knew I was merely existing, not living. Every day felt like clocking in and clocking out — not just at work, but in life itself. There was no spark, no creativity, no sense of purpose. I was doing what I was supposed to do, not what I wanted to do.

So, I took the plunge. I left the predictable and embraced the uncertain. I pursued my passion for writing, something I had always done on the side but never dared to make the centerpiece of my life. The thrill of seeing my words on paper, of crafting stories and thoughts that resonated with others, was intoxicating. For the first time in years, I felt alive.

But the world outside didn’t share my enthusiasm.

You see, when you step away from the conventional, people start looking at you differently. Suddenly, you’re not “responsible” or “practical.” You’re the one who quit the rat race to “write blogs and books.” They don’t see the hours of work, the sleepless nights, the hustle to make a name for yourself. They see someone who gave up the tangible — salary slips, promotions, security — for the intangible — dreams, fulfillment, and freedom.

And then came the realization: following my dream had inadvertently made me unemployable.

It wasn’t that I lacked the qualifications or the skills to return to a traditional job. It was that my perspective had shifted. I had tasted freedom — the kind that comes from creating your own path, from being accountable only to yourself, from aligning your work with your values and passions. The thought of going back to a structured job felt stifling. The same system I once thrived in now felt like a cage.

Moreover, employers saw me differently too. “Oh, you’ve been freelancing?” they’d ask, their tone dripping with skepticism. To them, my years of writing, blogging, and publishing books weren’t “real work.” They saw gaps where I saw growth, instability where I saw independence. My unconventional career path didn’t fit neatly into their boxes, and I wasn’t about to force it.

But here’s the thing: I wouldn’t change a thing.

Yes, following my dream made me unemployable in the traditional sense, but it also made me unstoppable. I learned to bet on myself, to create opportunities where none existed, and to redefine success on my own terms. I discovered the joy of waking up every day to do what I love, of pouring my heart into projects that matter to me, and of connecting with people who value my work for what it is — not for how it fits into a corporate hierarchy.

It’s not an easy path. There are moments of doubt, of financial strain, of wondering if you’ve made a terrible mistake. But then, there are moments of pure joy — like holding a book you’ve written, seeing your ideas spark conversations, or simply knowing that you’re living authentically.

So, yes, following my dream made me unemployable. But it also made me unafraid, unrestrained, and unapologetically me. And that’s a trade-off I’ll take any day.

To anyone standing at the crossroads, wondering if they should take the leap, here’s my advice: do it. It won’t be easy. It won’t always make sense. But it will be worth it. Dreams have a way of shaping us, of breaking us down and rebuilding us into someone stronger, wiser, and more alive. And even if the world labels you “unemployable,” wear it as a badge of honor. It simply means you had the courage to follow your heart — and that’s a skill no job can teach.