Anxiety: 1, Job: 0



So…I quit my job. Yep. Just walked away. Okay, not literally walked away, I handed in my notice like a responsible adult. But still, I’m done.

Now, when I say finally quit, it makes it sound like I’d been there for years suffering in silence. Reality check: I lasted two and a half months. TWO. AND. A. HALF. MONTHS.

The role was so stressful, and instead of getting better with time, it only made my anxiety worse. I had to make a choice: my job or my health. And this time, I chose my health. I chose me.

Do I know what I’m doing next? Nope. Not a clue. Am I panicking? Shockingly… no. For once, I feel kind of at peace. Like, I can actually sit down, breathe, and not feel like I’m being chased by my inbox.

That said, I do have an interview next week. So maybe future-me will have it all together. Or maybe I’ll be back here saying, “Welp, that didn’t work either.” Stay tuned. Wish me luck!

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