I quit one of my jobs without having another one lined up. I hated the job, I was miserable, and it was making my anxiety and depression extremely difficult to live with, so I quit. Immediately I felt this amazing weight lifted off of my shoulders. I was liberated. I was free! I could breathe and it felt good.
Five minutes later I was unable to breathe because I had just quit a job! What’s wrong with me? People were paying me, granted not much, for working in my house. Sure, I could never really get anything done during the hours I was supposed to because I’m just not a person who can work at home and not go do house things. Sure, I cried at my desk every single day. Sure, my stomach actually hurt the entire time I sat there because I didn’t actually really know what I was doing and I knew that someone was going to figure that out, and soon. But I quit without another job. All I could think was, “How could I do this to my family?”
I had to decide what to do. Should I do what I knew was best for me or should I do what I thought was best for my family? After much thought, and knowing I had sort of made my bed, I knew I needed to lie in it. Also, something became apparent quite soon: because of how little money I was making, and because of how miserable I was, what was best for me and what was best for my family were one in the same. I could not continue to feel the way I was and behave the way I was as a result. I needed to be able to be free to be a better person.
I gave it a shot. I thought long and hard about it. And I became a quitter. Here’s hoping that I can look back on it in a few months and say it was one of my better decisions.