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I Want to Save the World

  • Writer: Lindsey Lykins
    Lindsey Lykins
  • 11 minutes ago
  • 2 min read

If you had asked me during my freshman year of high school what I wanted to do, I would’ve said, “I want to change the world.”


At first, I thought that meant pursuing law. I wanted to speak for the voiceless, advocate for the neglected, and change policies for the vulnerable. I imagined standing at podiums, giving speeches that would lead thousands to push for legislative change. But when I realized just how much work and schooling would be needed for a chance at making real change, I decided I wanted a career where I could see the impact right in front of me. So, I chose nursing.


I completed a semester of nursing classes and tried hard to grasp the science and biology involved. I learned about diseases, medications, and the human body. While the science was interesting, I was far more drawn to connecting with people and forming bonds. Nursing, while impactful, didn’t give me the satisfaction or passion I expected from helping others.


It was during my volunteer work as a Guardian Ad Litem that I found my true passion: social work. Being able to help people during their worst moments, assist them in finding light in the darkest places, and remind them of what’s waiting on the other side. I knew I had found my calling. And still, it didn’t quite feel like enough.


Over time, I’ve learned that “enough” isn’t about fixing everything or saving every single person. It’s about showing up. It’s about being present in the messiness of human lives and holding space for the pain, resilience, and small victories. I’ve come to understand that my role isn’t to erase suffering, but to walk alongside people as they navigate it. Sometimes that means celebrating progress that looks tiny to the outside world but feels monumental to the person living it. Sometimes it means sitting quietly and just listening when there are no words.


The guilt hasn’t disappeared, but it's softened. I remind myself that the fact I’m still here, still fighting, still working to make a difference, is its own kind of strength. It means I can offer something real: hope, empathy, and understanding, things that can't be taught in a textbook or measured by policy change.


This journey has taught me that changing the world doesn’t have to be grand or immediate.


Sometimes showing up is enough.

Sometimes it's everything.












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