I quit my job one year ago. What have I learned?
The best decision I've ever made and why I wouldn't recommend it to anyone else.
When I left my job in January last year, I did all the things that you’re told not to do. I left in the middle of a big project. I didn’t have a job to go on to. I didn’t have three weeks’ worth of expenses saved, never mind the recommended three months. Save a very small number of colleagues that I trusted, I didn’t tell anyone that I was leaving until my very last week. I didn’t give the kind of feedback I wanted in my exit interview. I couldn’t stand to have anything to do with the role any longer. I was physically and mentally so unwell because of it all that I just wanted to get out of there as fast as I could and not look back. And I did. Those bridges, if not quite burned, definitely have big DANGER DO NOT CROSS signs on them.
Full disclosure: even though I had a couple of small freelance projects to work on, I did get financial help from my parents and partner for a few months. I’m not squeamish about it, I know I am extremely privileged in that regard. I know that I would have stayed in that job much longer and not been able to prioritise my health if I didn’t have that support network. That’s partly why quitting without a Plan B is not something I’d recommend as a first option. Even with the support I had, if I had my time again again, I would do things differently.
Twelve months have passed since I quit and things have come full circle. I’ve gone from unemployment to freelancing to temporary contracts to being back in a full-time role. A year is a long time in your work-life, it turns out. I am a very different person to the sad girl who spent her Monday mornings (and Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays and Fridays…) crying at a laptop. Here’s a few things I’ve learned about myself (and working life generally) in those months since I quit.
Burnout is absolutely no joke, lads
Not to sound like every millennial ever, but I think I’ve been burnt out because of work at least a couple of times in my life. The poor sleep, daily habits like eating regularly and drinking enough water going out the window, twitchy eyes, stress headaches, the slow creep of apathy and self-doubt. Not to mention the endless colds, exhaustion, eczema flare-ups, hair loss, all the good stuff. This time round was no different. What was different, however, was the length of time it took me to feel well again.
I was no longer working in a stressful environment, but I was living with a different kind of stress. I was trying to get my freelance biz off the ground, feeling pretty lost and like I didn’t know what I was doing, paddling frantically through uncharted waters. On top of that, years of being made to feel small and unvalued meant that my confidence was shot to shit. I needed rest. I needed to refill my very empty cup. Reader, I did not do those things. I soldiered on, feeling increasingly frustrated and sad about not being able to get better. I was missing what I thought of as the ‘Old Me’, someone with energy and ideas and enthusiasm. I was seeing flickers of her, through the fog of anxious thoughts and oversleeping, but she felt like another person. I was looking at her through a window rather than in the mirror.
A year on and I feel like I’ve got a bit of my mojo back. My new job has helped with that but so has not beating myself up about still being tired sometimes. My confidence is growing and I feel like a more balanced version of myself (I will say antidepressants have lent a helping hand with that too, for sure). I wouldn’t say I’m fully back to being the person I remember, though who is after a pandemic, global economic meltdown and everything else we’re living through right now? I’m finding that the body and brain might be elastic and resilient, but that it won’t always return to the same shape you started with. And that’s okay.
Stability doesn’t mean failure
I’ve mentioned before that returning to full-time employment after striking out my own felt like taking a bit of a step back. It wasn’t how I saw my work-life panning out last year. Going freelance was impressive, brave, against the grain. I was going to make a name for myself, make sure that people knew exactly what I had to offer and make a success of it all, straight off the bat. When it became clear that things weren’t going to work out that way, it felt like failure. I was craving a confidence boost and this felt like a slap in the face.
The resistance I felt at having to go back to a traditional 9 to 5 was really difficult to push through. I had sold myself (and everyone else who asked) on the glamour and perceived ease of solo-preneurship, without understanding exactly what I needed to be doing to make it work. I wasn’t emotionally or financially secure enough to afford to be scrappy, take risks or even be able to consistently show up for myself every day. I just didn’t realise that at the time.
The thought of feeling trapped by a rigid 9 to 5 made me feel sick, so I ran towards whatever felt like the complete opposite of that. What my burned-out brain really needed was stability, not hustle. The happiest time of my 2022 work-life was actually when I was back in a full-time role, as part of a festival team. Although physically tiring and pretty unsustainable in the long-term, those whirlwind few months really filled me up. I felt confident, capable and happy, proud of the work that I was doing and surrounded by brilliant new people that I now call friends. I wasn’t afraid of giving my all, only that I wouldn’t ever get anything worthwhile back.
WFH life is not for me
Part of the resistance I felt at going back to a 9 to 5 was because I’d convinced myself that office life was not the one. Operating to someone else’s schedule, your boss constantly popping over for ‘a quick chat’, having to listen to Diane’s daily updates on how her 5:2 diet is going (I can hear your stomach grumbling from here, Di!). Not to mention no space for mental health days or feeling anything less than 100% at all times. The obvious solution was to break out of the traditional office space and work from home instead. We did it during lockdown and it worked then, right? Right?
My sad self had clearly forgotten that working from home full-time, even without the restrictions of lockdown life, can be just as tricky to navigate as the office. I felt increasingly isolated, especially when my days were filled with job-hunting and budgeting what little spare cash I had to play with between contracts. I was unmotivated and distracted, surrendering hours of the day to Netflix and sleep before beating myself up about not being more ‘productive’. I couldn’t go back to another toxic environment, but I didn’t know where to find something better. To my surprise, it turns out that something better was back in the office.
Now don’t get me wrong, you still won’t catch me in the office Monday through Friday. In the role I’m currently in, I have the flexibility to go in a couple of times a week and pals, I am loving it. True, those office days are not the most productive in terms of emails sent and projects progressed. But the impact they have on me as a human? Priceless. Spending time with my team, bumping into folk in the kitchen, brainstorming together instead of via our little Zoom squares, having someone to head out to lunch with - that’s what fills my work-life cup. As good as it feels to whack out 1000-odd words solo at a laptop, I know that kind of working quickly becomes a slog when my time isn’t punctuated by IRL conversation and connection. Plus, there are always great snacks in the office and endless free cups of tea. What’s not to love?
So while I’m not recommending that you chuck in your job without a Plan B, it did teach me a couple of invaluable lessons about rest, failure and how important being around other people is. Working for myself full-time is still a big goal for me (watch this space for the roll out of The Hot Desk business empire…) but it turns out that 2022 was not the right time for that goal to come to fruition. And, I’ve realised, that’s totally alright. Instead, 2022 was the time for figuring things out and for making new connections. It was a year for some rest, even if it came a bit too late. It was also the year this newsletter came into the world, after marinating in my brain for months and months. I’ve said that a year is a long time in your work-life, but it’s also a very short time too. I’m only in my early thirties, with practically a whole working life ahead of me. So if it takes a year (or two) to make sure that life is going to be as good as I can make it, I think that’s a pretty fair trade.
I’m so happy to be back writing here (one of the many things that slipped away during my busy-ness and burnout…) and I hope you enjoyed this latest issue of The Hot Desk. If you did, I would love it if you could share this post with someone you think would enjoy it too.
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See you next time!
Rebecca
I love the honesty of this post and I'm excited to read more of your writing!
Glad to have you back! A beautiful piece, lovely reflections, so happy to hear you’re liking where you are currently. ❤️