This morning while cleaning out some old stuff on my computer I found something I wrote last year after I quit my job. There were about six weeks between the day I told my boss I was quitting and the day I finally walked out of there for good, which was just long enough to make me a little crazy.
Even though I’d been planning my escape for months, those six weeks of in-between time gave me plenty of opportunity to reevaluate my decision and reconsider my motivation. It was confusing – once I finally had an end-date on the horizon the job became so much more bearable that I almost enjoyed it. I knew I still wanted to quit, but I couldn’t help but wonder if I was giving up a perfectly good job. I wrote:
It’s not a matter of this job being so awful. I grew out of that a while ago. It’s a matter of it being too easy to stay. It’s a matter of it being a “perfectly good job.”
It’s not challenging. And I don’t have to move around too much. And I can call in sick from time to time. And if I surf the internet for a whole day, or for whole days, I don’t get in trouble. The people are mostly nice and sometimes we get free lunch and I can wear casual clothes and go to the gym on my lunch breaks. So why am I quitting?
I’m quitting because staying might lull me into complacency for the rest of my life. I refuse to be 30 and have a job that I don’t care about. I want to have a career that I love. I want a big, dreamy, crazy, fun, exciting, suitable-for-me career.
I’m not quitting because I hate it, or because it’s torture, or because it’s sucking my soul – it’s really not. I’m quitting because if I don’t leave now, I might stay forever. And that’s not good enough.
I was right. It was a good job, but it wasn’t good enough. As I’ve said dozens of times in the past year, what I’m doing now isn’t perfect either, but it’s so much more ME. I’m more professionally fulfilled than I’ve ever been. Best of all, I’ll never have to wonder what-if…because I’m finding out.