I always thought it was my dream to work at Disney World. I quit after a month from burnout.

• I worked part-time retail at Disney World in 2017, immediately after I graduated college.
• Though I was so excited to work in my happy place, the reality didn't live up to my expectations.

As an only child of divorced parents, I didn't always have the happiest childhood. But Disney World was my escape, a small glimpse of magic to look forward to when everything else seemed to be falling apart.

Disney was also a part of my biggest milestones: my first time camping, my 16th birthday, and my first solo-travel experience. As I approached college graduation in 2017, it seemed the only natural next step was to join the company I loved so much to help other families make memories.

But things looked a little different behind the scenes.

I moved to Orlando immediately after graduating from college

The day after getting my college diploma, I packed my tiny car and drove the two hours from my school to Orlando, Florida.

Though I'd found an apartment a few weeks prior, it wouldn't be ready for a few more days. Until then, I lived out of a $50-a-night hotel just a mile from the park gate on the ultra-touristy Route 192.

I remember dressing up for my first day at Disney University — what Disney calls its first few days of training for staff — like it was my first "big-girl" job.

In reality, I accepted this part-time retail position as a last resort because all the professional internships I applied to within Disney's marketing department had rejected me, and I already had seven years of retail experience anyway.

The first day of orientation was the famous Traditions, a full day of exploring what it means to be a Disney cast member. We heard stories from current employees about creating magic for kids with cancer, met Mickey Mouse, and ventured under the Magic Kingdom through the hidden staff tunnels.

I was hooked. I couldn't wait to get started.

My high hopes didn't last long

After my short few days of training at Disney University, it was finally time to head to my location for work. I would be working at Hollywood Studios — my favorite park — in both the Animation Courtyard and the Star Wars Launch Bay.

I was especially excited about Star Wars training, though I wasn't a huge Star Wars fan myself. The idea of spending time in a galaxy far, far away sounded like a blast.

Immediately, I realized the job wasn't going to be what I expected. On my first day in the Launch Bay, I was paired with a trainer who decided right away I wasn't a "real" fan. During my shift, my trainer quizzed me about characters I only vaguely knew as they laughed and told me I wasn't cut out for working in the Launch Bay.

This was a huge disappointment since I already had years of retail and sales experience and had already mastered the register. It left a sour taste in my mouth.

Even though I was technically part-time, I felt like I was working nonstop

I only worked in the Launch Bay for that single training day. The manager I trained with never scheduled me there again.

Instead, I was most often sent to what I called "bubble-wand purgatory."

I was placed outside in the Animation Courtyard for hours in the July heat, waving a "Little Mermaid" bubble wand in the middle of the courtyard, performing "merch entertainment" for entire shifts.

During the short breaks, I would lie on the plastic cafeteria benches in the break room and wonder if I was the only one who was over this. Managers created the schedule so days off were upwards of 10 days apart [Editor's note: Disney did not respond to a request for comment on Hollywood Studios' staffing, hours, and break days]. Each time I looked at my calendar, my well of pixie dust evaporated further.

Sometimes I listened as coworkers one-upped each other over who had been assigned the most hours. I felt overworked as a part-time employee, so I could only imagine what their schedules looked like.

I was told this somewhat extreme schedule was temporary because we were short-staffed. Disney had recently opened the Star Wars Launch Bay and was preparing for Toy Story Land. Still, that didn't make me any less exhausted as I found myself working past closing time only to have to come back hours later to open.

Finally, I reached my breaking point

It took two weeks of working every day to reach my threshold.

On my last night working at Disney, I found myself behind the Tower of Terror, cleaning ice out of a soda cart with my bare hands. What was meant to be a two-person job was already hard enough as one person, but no one had explained to me the proper way to clean the cart that didn't end in defeat and ice-cracked fingernails.

As my supervisor left me to go watch the fireworks from the courtyard, I knew I was never stepping foot in that park as a cast member again. I finished the rest of my shift by cleaning puke off of toys and restocking bouncy balls.

When it was finally time to clock out, I told my manager I'd see him in the morning. Bright and early, of course, since I had to be back in just a few hours. "See ya real soon!" the animated Mickey waved from the clock-out screen. On my way out, I stepped over someone sleeping in the break room.

The next day, I turned in my name tag and my uniforms. My incredibly short Disney career was over.

When I abruptly quit, I knew I was burning a bridge with Disney

I knew at that moment that I was throwing away my chance of working at my favorite company, but I was too burned out to care. Because I had not contacted my supervisor and essentially no-call-no-showed, I knew there was a slim chance I'd ever be rehired.

I took a six-month break from Disney parks before I was willing to go back again as a guest. Though the area where I used to work doesn't exist anymore, I still worry there's someone waiting there with a bubble wand.

Now that I live on the West Coast, I continue to visit Disney parks once or twice a year because I can't imagine Disney not being a part of my life. I have so much respect for cast members, and I know my experience isn't the norm.

Now, I realize that magic is a finite resource, and I'd rather save it for special moments than build a career around it.