My father died abruptly. The grief struck hard. I messaged my supervisor and gently requested three days off. He called me impatient, saying, “This is a crucial project. “Can’t it wait?” That explained all I needed to know. I said nothing, took the days off, and went home to bury my father.

While there, surrounded by family and memories, I realized I’d lost more than just a parent: I’d lost myself in a profession that never respected me. I went back to the office, typed out my resignation, and handed it in the next day. “Are you leaving?” “Now?” my employer inquired, surprised.

I nodded. He was taken aback when I stated, “I’m done postponing what matters.” I packed up my desk and walked away. A month later, I unveiled my passion project: a tiny internet network for mental health services, particularly for individuals in grief. It was exactly what I needed, and now I can offer it to others.