I left my dead-end job yesterday. Not in a slam-the-door-wave-the-finger blowout kind of way, the company and I separated on amicable terms, but nonetheless it’s over. Quitting your first ‘real’ job post-college is one of those particularly distressing decisions no one really prepares you for. I was shocked at how difficult it was to come to terms with putting in my two weeks notice. First came the guilt, in case you haven’t notice finding a decent paying job isn’t exactly easy nowadays. Even though I couldn’t sleep Sunday nights and was sneaking into the woman’s room at work to hide my panic attacks I’d think, “this sucks, but hey at least I have a job”. Then the work doubled and the impossible assignments became more frequent. After getting home I’d finish whole bottles of wine in one sitting. Life started feeling like a slow march towards death. Work took all of my energy. I was stuck in an industry I wanted nothing to do with, in a position with no room for advancement, that utilized none of my skills and was teaching me nothing. So I started saving my money and I quit.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m frightened. The economy might crash (thanks GOP) and I can’t live on my savings forever. But staying there would just have been an excuse to be miserable and lazy. The future is very uncertain and I feel like I’m floating in space. But I know what I want now, I think I know where to find it, all I have to do is build my ship and get there.