Before I knew it, I was in my career.

In college, I had no idea what I wanted to do. A friend's brother-in-law happened to need a marketing intern. He thought I'd be a good fit so I said yes.

Jumping from my $7.25-an-hour college job to making $15 an hour felt like a real life-changing jump.

When I told my mom she literally said, "you're going to have more money than you know what to do with."

The job was simple. It was the beginning of social media marketing. Back when C-suites didn't really understand it. They just knew they needed to be on it.

All I did was take pictures, write cute captions, and post consistently. The executives loved it.

Did it drive revenue? Honestly, no. But they didn't care. We were on social media! That had to mean something.

After a few months, I made my first real, adult purchase. I had been sleeping on the same twin bed I'd had since I was out of the crib. I wanted a real bed.

So I bought a queen mattress.

I had it on the floor for a while before I could afford a frame. To this day, it is still one of the most important purchases I've ever made. Never underestimate the power of a good night's sleep!

At the time, the mattress represented something bigger. I was becoming independent. I was making money. I was building a life.

And the praise I was getting from executives felt incredible.

The work was honestly too easy. I wanted more. So I started doing more.

The VP of Marketing would say, "we should really position our GM as a leader in the space." Great. I said I could help. I took over the GM's social accounts.

Then other executives started asking if I could help them, too.

I wrote LinkedIn posts about automative trends. Things I knew nothing about. But Google knew. I would search a topic, read a few articles, find a way to explain it simply, write that, then post it.

Soon, I was managing the company's social accounts, the GM's, the VP's, and the CFO's.

The GM liked me so she started asking me for help on other things.

"Hey, Sam, I'm doing a training with the other executives and I want to get everyone swag. Can you take care of that?" Sure.

"We need to write a blog. Can you do that?" On it.

"I need a presentation for a conference. Can you make that?" Done.

"Our sales reps need handouts for their drop ins. Can you help?" I'll figure it out.

Anything that came across my desk, I said yes. And the validation kept coming. The praise. The trust. The feeling that people at the top of the company noticed me. People liked me. They saw my willingness to help. My willingness to do anything.

I started confusing being needed with being valued.

They started inviting me to Thirsty Thursday's and Halloween parties. They asked me to housesit while they were on PTO. Watch their dogs. Babysit their kids. Feed their chickens. Come to pool parties.

Did I want to do those things?

No.

I was 24. I didn't drink. I hated babysitting. I don't like parties. I definitely do not enjoy medicating old dogs that have accidents every two hours.

But I said yes. Because I noticed every time I did, it created more opportunities.

We went through a series of layoffs. I was one of the few people who made it through. I remember thinking: they can't lay me off. I'm useful. People trust me. I take care of their kids. I am indispensable.

Note to self: everyone is replaceable.

After attending enough Thirsty Thursday's, sipping on Sprite while coworkers encouraged me to "just try one sip," I finally did.

Somewhere along the way, I created this unspoken (and untrue) belief that I had to do things that weren't me in order to keep climbing.

I had a moment on a work trip where I finally woke up and realized: this isn't me. I hate this.

I was grateful someone took a chance on me. I was grateful for the opportunities. But, I had lost sight of myself. Because it felt like every opportunity I had been given up to that point came because I said yes.

So I found a new job. I literally cried when I told my manager I was quitting.

It's embarrassing I did that, but I was grieving everything I had invested into that company. My time. My energy. My identity.

All for a queen mattress.