It’s been a year since I quit my job.
A career that I’ve had for almost a decade, on-and-off, across three countries in different capacities, working in a number of media agencies, handling different brands from various industries and even taking on a most coveted role on client side. I enjoyed it’s dynamism, being at the forefront of culture and creativity, leading the charge for modern society’s tastes, preferences and behaviors.
I was once an intern, who grew old, yet remained young, working with a constant churn of people like myself - idealistic, creative, eager to learn and make things happen.
I worked with television networks, movie production outfits, radio stations, magazines and newspapers, musicians, actors and the entire hive that kept it buzzing. I brought to life ideas that were once never before seen nor done. I orchestrated change within business processes a now quick service restaurant conglomerate. I earned a generous amount of money and got a lot of fringe benefits - stacks of magazines, movie passes, parties with free flowing food and booze, rubbing elbows with stars, traveling the country and the world.
What’s not to love?
“I don’t know if I see myself doing this for the rest of my life…” My twenty year old self said aloud as the clock hands flew past ten, then eleven then twelve. I was crunching through excel sheets of numbers from media research, thinking of clever, succinct headlines for the charts and graphs that dominated the presentations, searching for images that would supplement the oft overwhelming numbers.
I could go hours on end, pawing through the data, finding the answer, that eureka moment of brilliant insight and telling that story. I loved it - getting to know the brand’s consumers like they were a new person I’ve met, trying to know what they like and how to sustain a possible friendship.
One time, typing away at my desktop computer, the sun rose up, signaling it was time to go home. I took a taxi, a power nap and a shower and change to head to an 8:30AM client meeting. Then I was back at the office, in front of my computer. There was never a nine-to-five, but a constant twelve, fourteen, sixteen hours of work.
And yet, I stayed. But time and time again, I found myself leaving. The money and rent free living with my family bought me time. But when the money dried up, I came back again. It was easy to return. I was good at my job, even though I honestly undermined my own capabilities.
I stared at the windows, skyscrapers surrounding our already tall office building, wondering what life there was outside of work. Was this what being an adult was like? Did the concept of a work-life balance even exist? Work had become my life, but I didn’t want it to be. I knew, deep inside, that I needed a life to give life to the work that I do. To explore, wander, ponder and feel the pulse of society to know what makes them, us, me tick.
I beat myself up for having not listened to my twenty year old self, but that’s now water under the bridge. Here I am now. The dust from the collapse’s settled. The air cleared. I can see the horizon ahead, but still I am at the cusp of uncertainty.
Last night, our circle of friends were chatting away about their jobs and respective accomplishments. I was silent with neither job nor achievements of that sort. I wanted to say how my body actually stopped shaking after months of it doing so, but I didn’t. If I did, it would feel like I crossed the finish line of an ultramarathon, but will not be greeted with cheers, instead an awkward silence.
I envied them knowing what they wanted to do, enjoy it enough to stay on for years and continue doing so. It seemed so easy, so natural for one to choose a path and stay on it. Why was it so difficult for me?
Perhaps they truly do love what they do. Because love for a person, a thing, a job endures, holds on ad infinitum. But is it really? Is it naive of us to think that everything we do must be out of love? Maybe most of us do things as part of necessity, for basic survival.
And yet, here I am again, leaving a job, a career, because I no longer have the heart for it.
I still wrestle with the fact on how there are things about the job that I truly loved. And because I did, I could confidently say I am brilliant at it. If I had the chance to focus on that single thing, maybe I’d jump at the chance to do so. But the fear of another life-consuming job environment nips at my heels.
I don’t know if I love it like others do. I really don’t.
I am truly so lucky to have the opportunity to take this time off - savings squirreled away and a husband who loves and supports me. Would I be here if I didn’t have those? The sheer privilege and touted courage to be able to say goodbye to a thing that pays the bills, puts a roof over one’s head and food on the table is perhaps not talked about out loud.
The access to means often dismissed, glossed over. But it is everything. A safety net to breathe, to spread one's wings.
Many remain stuck because of circumstances they not necessarily put themselves in. Sometimes we are just born into it. Sometimes we are just collateral damage to the recklessness of a few. Sometimes, well, unlucky. The swim against the current of that is maddening, futile. A cycle so vicious that it eats you alive. The stacks can be up against you, not matter the pulling up by the bootstraps. That those bootstraps you keep pulling on will soon crumble from the endless attempts.
Again, I am brave. But more privileged. I am lucky. I am grateful to be able to say goodbye to all that even a year after.
I still don’t know where I am headed, but I hope you will be here and there with and for me.