It was New Year’s Day and I was hungover and rewatching my favorite show, Downton Abbey. There’s something about re that is comforting. Re-reading, re-watching, re-evaluating. I was taking a much needed day of rest and relaxation. Who cares if it was DAY ONE of the new year. I have previously (and briefly) re-flected about my toxic relationship with the new year. The anxiety of the starting over. The possibility of becoming something new. So I made myself be okay with not doing anything on the first day of 2021. And it was glorious.
After that break, the next two days were full of productive energy and contentment. I had a vision for my new novel and was excited to write it. I was excited for the work with Dandelion Revolution Press. I was generally feeling the excitement that I don’t let myself feel.
But then on Monday, the dread. The make your bones heavy and the pressure behind your eyes dread. I had to teach on Tuesday. I retreated into myself and numbed the stress and anxiety I was feeling by tuning out and watching more Downton Abbey. This was different than the first day of the year. That day I was intentional about my need for rest (and recovery from a late night). I set aside that day to be completely lazy.
But this? It overcame me. The need to stop thinking. The inability to be productive. I couldn’t understand this at first. What was making me spiral in such a bad way?
Later that evening as I pulled up my teaching schedule, I felt it. This was it. This was that out of control apprehension of having to work. I had been feeling this way for months and I continued to push through this fog of stress to do what I had a degree in. To do what I was good at. To do what my family expected of me.
I felt so especially awful that I cancelled by classes. Relief. Relief washed over me like a warm, comforting shower. So, I chased that feeling. I quit.
One of the hardest things to grapple with when it comes to quitting, is the time I put in before I realizing it wasn’t for me. This type of perspective is not helpful. There’s no changing the past. I shouldn’t regret this time because it was time well spent. It was well spent because I discovered how to read the signs that my body was burned out. I learned that my mental health is more important than doing what is expected of me.
I’ve spent years pursuing education and teaching and have loved many parts of it. It’s difficult to understand that something I dedicated a lot of effort to is not for me. Frankly, it sucks.
Every time I try to teach I think, “This time will be different. I can do it this time.” And every time, I get burned out within a couple of months. And I blame myself for not being able to adjust.
Blame is not helpful either! Don’t blame yourself for having to quit something that was draining you.
I’m not the alone in the apprehension that follows when making a career switch. People put off career changes, going back to school, or looking for a new job for years. It’s normal to resist change! And a career change feels like a monumental change. But does it have to be? Can we normalize going after our passions and jobs that brings us peace and excitement?
I don’t want to dismiss how hard it can be, logistically, to change careers. Quitting a job when you have bills to pay or taking out a loan for grad school is no small thing. But I think trying now rather than years down the line will only help you realize your future sooner.
Blogging Took a Hike
Unfortunately, something had to give. When my mental health was strained and my body burned out, blogging was something that was pushed to one side. Much as it hurt me to do so, it happened on its own. There was no juggling it all as much as one tries. Social media was something else that gave (but, I was less sad about that.)
But other things that I truly love gave too. Crafting and sewing. Painting and bullet journal art. They all just… faded. This didn’t make me feel any better. Things that bring me such happiness didn’t have the energy to be realized. It was a tough couple of months.
It’s only with perspective (hindsight is 2020, literally 😉 ), that when I started to teach again is exactly when this blog dropped off the face of the Earth. That is no mere coincidence. It’s hard to get the energy to blog when I hardly had the energy to teach. I was telling myself over and over again, We can do hard things. Which is a great saying but when you are telling yourself that every single day, something is wrong.
My therapist reminded me: it’s not forever. It’s not like I will never teach again. But in this capacity, it’s not for me. I do want to teach again someday. I would love to teach writing or women’s literature, both passions of mine.
Another part of the reason I quit was because I wanted to go into 2021 leading with my heart. Following excitement. I want to do a job that is exciting to me. I am excited (and scared too!) to dedicate this year to writing, editing, and blogging. I know I can do it. I can make it as a best-selling author, a renowned editor, a successful blogger.
I have lofty dreams. Huge, scary dreams. But something that I’ve learned over the course of blogging is that it takes time. Rome wasn’t built in a day. But it burnt down in one. That second half of the saying is oft forgotten but I think about it often. We can crash anytime. Disasters can strike at any moment. The pandemic has made that apparent. My mental health made the construction of Rome take a five month hiatus. And that’s okay.
So time. It’ll take some time and I have to be okay with that. My anxiety tries to tell me otherwise but my heart knows that it’ll happen because I love it enough.
Blogging has given me this lesson on time in a way that I might never have realized. I look at where my website was just three years ago and marvel at the slow, progressive growth I have achieved. It’s no small thing.
Just like the lessons I learned during my time as a teacher is no small thing. They are valuable skills that only add to my future career, not undermine it.
It is only after a month since stopping teaching that everything has started to return. That drive to be a self-made woman and the declaration that I really am an entrepreneur. Blogging had taken a long nap and now it has slowly lifted off the blanket, put on its slippers, and ambled out to meet me.
That relief is still washing over me. It comes and goes like the tide. Relief and apprehension in equal measure. This time, it’s a good kind of apprehension and one I feel strong enough to tackle. Thanks to quitting.
Happy Day-
Glad to have you back. I was missing your blog posts!
That is so sweet, Anna! It’s great to be back 🙂