I had the perfect job—a high-powered magazine editor. I sat in the front row at New York Fashion Week, got to work on interesting stories and photoshoots, and had dinners on the company's dime. On the outside, it looked like I had it all: an office on the 25th floor of the World Trade Center, an apartment in a luxury building, and a new designer handbag every season. I was the executive editor at Teen Vogue, and I was living the dream.
Well, at least someone's dream.
Behind the facade of hair, makeup and designer clothes, I was unhappy. I hadn't dated in months. My father was sick and dealing with his care made me resentful. I wasn't taking good care of myself, and I could feel it. And I was managing an increasingly agitated team. This all came to a head in 2020 when the pandemic hit, and I realized that for me, having it all meant I was doing it all—and not particularly well. I didn't want to do it anymore.
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