Regrets.

What good are they?

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What is life, if not a series of choices?

When I chose to walk away from a stellar teaching career that would have quickly jetted me into success and riches, I didn’t spend much time thinking about it. Too torturous, too tempting to return. Survival will do that. Survival and exhaustion. I was too focused on bills right on the table — and that doesn’t provide much luxury for regret over fat paychecks that disappeared with my choice to become a writer and Tarot reader.

It would have been so easy to stay. So easy to be tenured in a swank Westchester classroom after NYC schools. So easy to ride it out for 20+ years. Rich, rich, rich. There’s a reason why Dave Ramsey knows plenty of millionaire teachers.

Sometime you don’t return to a particular fork in the road until you have the strength and security to do so.

I’ve thought a lot about my last post and the decision to leave it all behind to become a writer and intuitive. Do I have regret? No. Do I wish I had chosen differently? No.

But still, it’s good to reflect.

What keeps you from being a bougie b*tch?

If I had stayed in my teaching career, I’d be retired now. Perhaps starting a business or living on my investments. I’d be rich — but there’s a good possibility I’d have a regret or two.

When you teach at a low-performing school, you either make it past the first month or the kids will tear you to pieces. I was a great teacher. A natural. I loved being in a classroom — and chose one of the hardest school in NYC to be ground down and spit up to become an even better teacher / human. I made it past a month. In fact, I taught four years and found my groove. It was so easy that after awhile, it was boring — even with 35 kids per class, 150 a day. Sure, there were various challenges. Every job has them. Once I got used to the b.s. politics, curriculum and the expectations of the admins, I learned to carve out my own thing within the boundaries. When you’re a good teacher, they leave you alone — or use your classroom to brag to BOE muckedy-mucks.

Would I want to be a teacher in public schools again? Never. It was a prison for kids then — even more so now. I did what I could — then faced my own crisis.

I knew if I stayed, my massive imagination and mercurial temperament would eventually be crushed. Vacations, breaks and holidays wouldn’t fill the need to have time as my own. I was always exhausted. People think teaching is SO easy - which shows their absolute ignorance. I didn’t want to become the teacher across the hall who said to me — and yes, this actually happened — I hate my kids but only have 15 more years. Where else am I gonna to find another job like this?

So I did what many people do — built a temporary bridge. I moved out of state to the country. Smaller classroom, beautiful views and huge pay cut. This was not Westchester country! However, I needed the quiet to restore my soul and thought, Hm, let’s try an easy gig here.

I hated it. Even though I had seniority over many of the teachers, they stuck me with all freshman classes. Total passive-aggressive move to keep me in my place. This particular school was as close to an oligarchy like I’d never experienced. I missed the City so badly that my old VP kept writing, Whenever you’re done this little experiment, call me and I’ll set you up.

It was too late. It was a giant move and I loathed my job so much that there were countdown Post-it notes on the side of my fridge — but wise enough to see the job through contract and not implode my career. I did the best I could and spent most lunch hours in a tiny library cubicle, writing an exit plan in a blue composition notebook, desperate to manifest my way out of this “mistake”.

Deep in my heart, it was already finished. It was just a matter of having the courage to walk away.

From the money. The benefits. Tenure. Security. Pension checks and other mysterious money from NYC. The BOE letter begging me to return. The memory of the City — or the possibility of anywhere other than where I was. The pushy interview I turned down but the wealthy job I knew I’d get. The pull of wealthy suburbs and a cushy career.

The writer in me saying, Now or never.

The intuitive in me saying, It’s time.

Okay, I answered. I’m ready.

So I gave notice, tore the last of the Post-it notes off the fridge and informed my students at the end of the year that I was leaving to become a poet. They were country kids; very few had ventured beyond state borders. What I attempted to instill in them was the whole world, waiting for them to discover it. Four years later — as much as I hated that school — I went to their graduation and clapped as they walked past, several of them amazed and smiling that I’d shown up. One of them told me later that because I had the courage to become a writer, they decided to take a year off and explore Australia before starting college.

So when I left the borders of a stellar teaching career, I stumbled and bumbled and did what I could to make money and build a business. Cashed out my pension and lived on that for a year. I was constantly broke but grew amazing friendships, learned how to make a mean cappuccino and wrote the start of what became my best-selling memoir, The Reluctant Tarot Reader. I subbed and tutored and read client after client after client. I never gave up — but there were times I SURE WANTED TO.

Regrets, if you could call them that, I have one — and a stunning realization.

• I wish I had returned to my NYC high school to see my beloved students graduate the year after I left. Yet it was too hard on my heart, so I didn’t. I still think about many of them and always send love and wishes for a great life.

• I was in a difficult relationship for a time and always felt bad that I struggled with money and she was six figures. I knew that one day I’d be an amazing success but in the early years of building Shivaya Wellness, it was constant grind and reinvestment. Money was important to both of us but I never felt enough because of my bank account. There were several other competing factors that eventually broke us up, but I knew one of them was money. The irony I only realized this week was that if I had stayed in my tenured teaching career and moved to Westchester schools as planned — it would’ve been 13 years at that point — my wealth would have been greater than hers. Probably a good thing I never really dwelt on it. It would have been just another torture point!

Some things I thought I wanted.

Do I regret leaving a solid, wealthy career for art and Tarot? Never. I will always create, reinvent, express and discover. I am true to my path.

It was super difficult for a time — but I would have more regret if I’d stayed for money and killed my spirit.