I Was Dedicated to My 5-Year Plan—and Then It Blew Up in My Face

It was the fall semester of my sophomore year of college. I had a mandatory meeting with my academic advisor to discuss my next semester’s courses. I didn’t know it then, but a decision I made that day would set my five-year plan in motion.

The conversation was going as expected until my advisor asked me what major I wanted to declare: business or accounting. I entered undergrad taking all the prerequisites for a business degree. But little did I know, the time had come to declare said major that I thought I had plenty of time to mull over in the coming months. After trying to punt my decision to a later date, I was then met with the stern advice that I needed to decide immediately. If I didn’t lock in my courses, I’d be behind. A decision that would influence the rest of my college courses, academic experience, and ultimately my career was made in my academic advisor’s office that fateful fall day. I opted to major in accounting.

My rationale for choosing the accounting route ultimately came down to the degree being more specialized. I could utilize my accounting knowledge to work in business, but if I had a business degree, it would be harder to land a job in accounting.

In the accounting program at my college, all accounting majors were encouraged to follow a specific five-year plan, almost like a textbook. You graduate undergrad, get a summer internship at a Big Four accounting firm, land a full-time offer, get your master’s degree, start your full-time career at the firm you interned for, study for and pass all four parts of the CPA exam, get your CPA license, and move on up the corporate ladder into ultimate career success.

While rigorous and challenging, I loved the absoluteness of this plan. If I did all of these things and checked all of these boxes, I would be happy and successful. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. I knew what I had to do, I set off on the path, and I never looked back. Graduate undergrad. Check. Land an internship at a prestigious accounting firm. Check. Start graduate school with a full-time job offer in hand. Check. Everything was going according to plan—until it wasn’t.

Failing was not part of the plan

I started studying for the CPA exam in grad school. You had to take and pass four parts within a certain time frame. I figured I should take advantage of the fact that I was already in student mode, and I’d likely have more free time in school than I did when I started my full-time career. I took my first test in the fall semester of my graduate year. I failed. I took another part a few months later. I failed.

“If I did all of these things and checked all of these boxes, I would be happy and successful. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.”

Over the next two years, I sat for three of the four parts of the CPA exam 10 times. As a result of those 10 attempts, I passed one part. I graduated with my master’s degree, started my full-time job, and spent two years of my life studying to pass one single exam. The most devastating part was that of my many failed scores, most were only a few points away from passing. It was infuriating. I did everything I was supposed to do. Why wasn’t this working?

My friends and classmates were cheering me on and encouraging me that I’d pass the next time. But my then-boyfriend, now husband, saw the toll it was taking on me behind closed doors. I shed so many tears and shared my frustrations with him, and as supportive as he was, he could read between the lines before I could. He suggested I take a break from the exam and reevaluate my priorities, but I was too stubborn.

I had a glaring red flag in front of me that I was in the wrong profession, and yet, I clung to my career in accounting because it was a part of the plan. I clung to it even when I began to dislike the work. I clung to it even when I cried in the bathroom at the office. I clung to it even when I had to pop a melatonin on my drive home at midnight during the busy season to ensure I’d fall asleep in time to wake up and do it all again. I held onto my accounting career until I was white in the knuckles because I had invested too much energy, time, and money into the profession. I was so unhappy, but it was unfathomable for me to do anything else.

But eventually, it was harder for me to push through than it was to let go. And so I did. It wasn’t one defining moment where the decision was crystal clear. But knowing what the future held for me on my current path, I gave myself permission to explore alternatives. I started having conversations with professionals outside of my department at my current company before I ultimately decided to look externally at new positions.

I shared the news with my friends and family and recall one family member who wasn’t exactly supportive. They reminded me that I had a great job and a great company and that I should stick it out. And all I could say in response was, “I’m not happy. I want to be happy.” I had my entire professional career in front of me, and I refused to settle. For the first time in my professional career, I felt light. I was without a plan and without a clear next step, but I could breathe again.

Faking it until you make it isn’t actually faking it

Deciding to stray from my five-year plan that I worked so diligently for was the first of many difficult decisions I’ve made throughout my 11-year career. It was hard and scary, but it was absolutely the right decision for me. And while I’d love to say I left my accounting career and everything fell magically into place, that’s not the way life works.

My career path has been anything but linear since I took the leap and quit accounting. Four years after my five-year plan fell apart and I left my accounting role, I took a position as a corporate communications specialist. And now, five years into that new career, I’ve been promoted twice. I’m older, wiser, and a bit more confident when it comes to making career moves. However, there are still some things that I wish I had known before I sat down in my advisor’s office and made a choice that would shape the next decade of my life.

I wish I had known that what we see on resumes and LinkedIn is just the highlight reel. The longer I’ve been in the working world, the more I’ve realized that no one has any idea what they’re doing. People who appear successful from the outside are still, at the end of the day, humans trying to navigate their own lives. They may share fun job updates and post awesome pictures of their journey, but the truth is even those more senior in their career are still figuring it out.

“Five-year plans are a myth. They’re a widely held but false belief that if we do everything that’s perfectly laid out for us, we’ll be successful or happy or fulfilled or whatever else we’re looking to achieve. But that’s simply not true.”

I now know that careers aren’t linear. I’ve shifted my belief that we have to climb the corporate ladder to be successful and now see my career as a playground—sometimes I move up, other times I move over, and sometimes I get on a completely new piece of equipment. I give less weight to the stereotypical forms of success we’ve been programmed to believe, like titles and compensation, and focus on what’s going to bring me joy and fulfillment.

When I first started my career in communications, I felt like an absolute impostor, and it took a few years for that feeling to fade. I was truly faking it until I made it, and that brought on a whole new wave of anxieties and insecurities. However, I slowly learned that the more I did the work, the more I knew, and the more confident I became in my abilities. Throughout those first few years in my new profession, I learned that faking it until you make it isn’t about defrauding people and only putting on the appearance of being competent; it’s about acting like you already have the behaviors and attitudes you’re striving for so you can internalize them. A few years into my communications career, I realized that I wasn’t faking it anymore. I actually knew what I was doing, and I truly believed that I was the best person for the job.

All the events of the early part of my career have led me to where I am today. I love the life and career I’ve built as a result of all of the changes in direction I’ve made. If I had stayed the course and stayed miserable, my life would look entirely different. I may not have found work I find fulfilling or have built a life in a city I love or be the person I am today. So, trust the process. Even if the process feels uncertain and like a long, bumpy, winding road, trust it.

Thinking outside the box

On the other side of a failed five-year plan, I’m here to tell you a little secret. Five-year plans are a myth. They’re a widely held but false belief that if we do everything that’s perfectly laid out for us, we’ll be successful or happy or fulfilled or whatever else we’re looking to achieve. But that’s simply not true. Because the one thing five-year plans often don’t account for is change. A lot can happen in five years.

In the five years after graduating college, my life shifted drastically, and my five-year plan couldn’t keep up. My interests changed once I gained real-world work experience. Friendships came and went. My living situations and material positions evolved. And yet, I clung to the arbitrary timeline of a five-year plan in hopes that if I did everything I set out to do, I’d get everything I thought I was promised. But it doesn’t work like that. Life doesn’t work like that.

Instead of planning for five years down the road, what if we focused on the next best thing for us? The right next job or the best next industry to try or the next great skill you’d like to learn. This is the approach that led me from picking up the pieces of my failed plan to a career I’m excited about. When I left my accounting job, I had no idea what the future held for me. Plans didn’t work so well for me in the past, so I didn’t hold on so tightly to them for the future. Instead, I looked two steps ahead instead of 10 and slowly but surely found my way.

Today, when I wake up, I focus less on the future and more on the now. What do I need today to make me fulfilled? What will bring me joy in my work and life right now, not five years from now? How do I want to feel when I put my head on my pillow each night? I don’t know what the future holds—and I wish I hadn’t pretended like I did when I was 19 and opted for a career in accounting. Now, I know that when I listen to my gut and trust the process, my future will be better than I ever could have imagined.