I Quit My Job a Week Ago & Chose Myself. Here’s What That Cost Me.
I didn’t quit my job because I was brave.
I quit because my body was done negotiating.
On paper, it was a “big girl job.” Stable. Respectable. The kind of job you’re supposed to be grateful for. The kind you don’t walk away from unless something is seriously wrong — or unless you’re reckless. Depending on who you ask, I was both.
What it cost me first was certainty.
A steady paycheck. A predictable schedule. The illusion that if I just kept pushing, my health would somehow catch up later. It didn’t. Later never comes when your nervous system is fried and your body is running on cortisol and coffee.
It cost me my identity for a minute.
When you leave something you’ve tied your worth to, there’s this quiet panic that creeps in. Who am I if I’m not producing like this anymore? I had to sit with that question longer than I wanted to. Turns out, I’m still me — just less exhausted.
It cost me comfort.
There were days I missed the structure. The routine. The feeling of knowing exactly what tomorrow looked like. Healing is messier than working. You don’t get performance reviews or gold stars. You just get small, unglamorous wins — better sleep, clearer thinking, a body that finally exhales.
It also cost me relationships.
Not because people were cruel, but because not everyone understands choosing yourself when it doesn’t look ambitious. Some people only respect burnout when it comes with a promotion attached.
But here’s what it gave me.
It gave me capacity.
Energy to think. Space to listen to my body. Time to cook, walk, breathe, read, and actually notice how I feel instead of powering through it. My health stopped being a side project and became the foundation.
It gave me clarity.
I didn’t leave to escape work. I left to rebuild how I live. To stop treating my body like an inconvenience and start treating it like a partner.
And maybe most importantly, it gave me honesty.
About my health. About my limits. About the fact that no job is worth a body that’s constantly screaming for help.
This isn’t a manifesto telling you to quit your job.
It’s permission to tell the truth about what staying is costing you.
Sometimes choosing your health doesn’t look like glow-ups and soft mornings.
Sometimes it looks like uncertainty, discomfort, and rebuilding from scratch.
And sometimes… that’s the healthiest choice you can make.