My name is Samantha Low. I'm 42 years old, and I work at a call center. Every day, I clock into my shift at 9 a.m., put on my headset, and prepare for hours of calls—some polite, many impatient, and a few downright rude.
It’s been my life for the past seven years.
Before this, I used to be a preschool teacher. I loved children. I loved singing silly songs, celebrating their small milestones, and even wiping their tears after a fall. But after a bad fall of my own—literally, a slipped disc that left me in constant pain—I couldn’t keep up with the physical demands of teaching.
I had no choice but to leave. Leaving wasn’t just about losing a job. It felt like losing a part of myself.
How I Lost My Spark Without Realising It
At first, I told myself, “It’s fine. At least you still have a job.” And I did what adults are supposed to do: move on.
But inside, something faded. I stopped taking photos. I stopped singing. I stopped laughing loudly. I became that person who watched the clock, answered calls mechanically, went home, ate dinner, and scrolled aimlessly on my phone until bedtime.
It wasn't depression exactly. It was just a slow, steady dimming of my spirit.
I didn’t even notice how bad it had gotten until one evening, when my niece came over. She was playing with my old ukulele—one I used to strum every night without fail. She said, “Auntie Sam, why don’t you sing anymore?”
I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t even remember the last time I sang.
Finding a Way Out
One night, when I was half-heartedly googling things like “how to find happiness again,” I stumbled across a link about Pop Workshop.
The page didn’t shout at me with big promises. It spoke quietly about finding your way back to yourself, even if you felt you had nothing left to offer.
You just need to see your life with new eyes. It felt different from all the other motivational pages I had seen. It felt real.
Without telling anyone, I signed up.
What Changed
Pop Workshop didn’t hand me a magic formula. It didn’t ask me to set 5-year plans or list my biggest regrets. Instead, it made me realize something simple but life-changing:
I was allowed to mourn the parts of me I had lost — and I was allowed to find new parts to love.
Slowly, I started to reconnect:
- I picked up my ukulele again. My fingers were stiff, but I laughed through the wrong notes.
- I started talking to my colleagues during lunch breaks instead of eating alone at my desk.
- I noticed the sunrise on my way to work — something I hadn’t appreciated in years.
No big external changes. Just small shifts inside me — shifts that made life feel worth living again.
A Different Kind of Success
I’m still a call center agent. I still deal with angry callers and long hours.
But now, I don’t see myself as “just someone who answers phones.” I see myself as someone who listens, who calms people down, who holds space for someone else's bad day.
I started volunteering at a nearby children's library once a month, telling stories to kids who remind me of the joy I once had—and still have.
I'm no longer just surviving.
I'm living.
My Message to Anyone Feeling Lost
If you feel like you've gone numb inside, like you're just moving through the motions of life, I want you to know:
You're not broken.
You're not lazy.
You’re just carrying weight that nobody else can see.
And even if you think it’s too late for you, it’s not.
Sometimes, you don’t need a complete restart. You just need someone—or something to remind you that the fire inside you is still there.
That’s what Pop Workshop did for me.
And maybe… it can do the same for you, too.