Before I start this story, I have a short but very important announcement.

Even though I try to upload these stories as often as I can, the fact that they are real-life stories, that have to be check with the people that are in these stories makes it impossible for me to keep a regular update schedule.

Even though I change the names of everyone in my stories, for the sake of privacy, I don't want to post anything on the internet without the people in question knowing about it.

I apologize to all my readers that I can't upload as often as you might like, and I hope you can respect my reasons for doing so. Thank you all so much for the continued support, it means a lot to me.

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Now, let's start the story. As the title says, there was a time when I almost quit archaeology all together.

Looking back on it now, it sounds almost surreal. I can't imagine my life without it, but recent events in my life have brought up this dark chapter in my student life, and I wanted to share it.

Mostly because I find that I had the privilege of meeting more and more people here on Wattpad who either study archaeology or want to study archaeology, and even for those who don't necessarily want to pursue a career in archaeology, but want to work towards their dream job, this might be a valuable lesson.

Now, I'm still only in my late twenties. By no means do I hold all the wisdom in the world. But even a little bit of wisdom can go a long way.

So, when I was in my third year of archaeology, my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. She had stage T3A, which meant cells had also spread to the regional lymph nodes and had to undergo chemotherapy after the initial surgery.

I still see her coming out of surgery when the tumour was removed; she looked like death. It hit me way harder than I ever imagined it would, seeing how I had dealt with my fair share of skeletons and mummies at that point, but when you see your loved ones like that, that's a whole other thing.

Throughout the chemotherapy, she kept looking like she was on deaths doorstep, and although I knew cancer wouldn't kill her, I feared that the treatment might.

During that time, I moved back in with my parents to take care of my mother and support my father. Which meant that I missed more, and more classes, couldn't always finish assignments on time and was overall just not focused on my studies anymore.

I tried my best, but it didn't take long for my grades to drop. And eventually, I was called before the Examinations Board to plead my case for the prolongation of my study. Well, I'll spare you all the details, but my request was denied, and I had five months to get my grades up to the required level, or I would be expelled from the university.

It felt like the ground was pulled out from under my feet. Like I was being punished for caring about something else than my studies.

The moment I got the news, I got so frustrated that I just wanted to leave it all behind and go home. I wanted to quit. I didn't want to be an archaeologist if that meant that my life only had to exist out of doing archaeology and nothing else.

So, I went home, told my parents, friends and classmates all the bad news and then something miraculous happened. Everyone around me started supporting me. You see, I had carried all my burdens by myself. I didn't want to burden my parents with my studies, and I didn't want to burden my classmates with my problems at home. I figured that this was my study, so I had to do it by myself, but you don't.

I mean, yes, you have to do your own work, but there is no shame in asking for help. From then on, my classmates would live-stream classes with me, or skype when I needed help on an assignment so I could stay home with my mom and keep up with all my work. They supported me, and with all their help, I managed to make it to the end of the year with a passing score.

I'm happy to tell you that my mom fully recovered after the treatment, and is now in good health. And I learned that while a career might seem important, it should never overshadow the other important things in your life. Just a year ago, I took a temporary leave from my job because my father fell went through a deep depression, and I was open about it. As it turns out, there were many more at my job, who had similar experiences or had depression themselves.

It's very easy to say, 'I'm fine' when someone asks, but if you don't talk about your problems, people can't help you. And trust me, if you are the kind of person that is willing to help others, they most likely will help you too.

I feel that now more than ever there is a pressure to achieve the perfect life with a dream job by the age of twenty, but nobody's life is perfect. Many people don't know what the hell they want to do with their life by the age of twenty, and that's fine. I still haven't fully figured out where I want to go with my life; all I know is that my career is not the most important thing in my life. It is a big part of my life, but if the people I love need me, I'll be there.

And I fully support the movement of being more open and sharing both the good and the bad.