i’ve been going back and forth on whether i wanted to write about this here. part of me wanted to quietly move on and pretend this chapter never happened. another part of me needed somewhere to put all these thoughts so they would stop living in my head.
so here i am, writing. because if there’s one thing this blog has always been for me, it’s a place where i can be honest.
six weeks into the job, i couldn’t do it anymore. i couldn’t continue working in an environment that felt unhealthy, emotionally draining, and increasingly toxic. before it started changing me into someone i didn’t recognize, i knew i had to leave.
it’s not that i’m weak. it’s not that i couldn’t handle the job professionally. it’s not that i’m unwilling to learn, adapt, or accept criticism. if anything, i walked into that job genuinely excited. after applying to dozens of jobs and finally receiving an offer, i thought this would be the beginning of something good. i was eager to learn, eager to prove myself, eager to contribute.
instead, i found myself counting the days. every morning felt heavier than the last. every day felt like walking on eggshells. every decision felt wrong. every effort felt unseen. and over time, it became exhausting.
what made it harder wasn’t necessarily the workload itself. it was the environment. it was the way things were communicated. it was the feeling of constantly second-guessing myself. it was never knowing whether what i did today would somehow become a problem tomorrow.
slowly, without realizing it, i stopped looking forward to work. instead, i started dreading it. i tolerated more than i let on. a lot more.
there were conversations i stayed silent through. moments i brushed off. situations i convinced myself weren’t a big deal. i kept telling myself to be patient. maybe things would improve. maybe i just needed more time. maybe i was being too sensitive.
but deep down, i knew something wasn’t right. i knew i wasn’t happy. i knew i wasn’t growing. and i knew i was becoming increasingly anxious.
the thing is, i’ve always believed that growth is supposed to challenge you. it’s supposed to make you uncomfortable sometimes. you’re supposed to make mistakes, learn from them, and become better. but there’s a difference between being challenged and being constantly overwhelmed. there’s a difference between growth and survival.
and at some point, i realized i wasn’t learning anymore. i was surviving. i found myself questioning my abilities, doubting my decisions, and carrying stress home with me every day. i would replay conversations in my head long after they ended. i would worry about things before they even happened. i was mentally exhausted.
and i remember thinking to myself, if this is how i feel after such a short period of time, what will happen if i stay? because before something breaks me completely, maybe it’s better for me to leave.
so that’s exactly what i did. i packed my things, i submitted my resignation, and i walked away.
maybe to some people, what i experienced won’t seem like much. maybe some people would have stayed longer. maybe some people would have pushed through.
and that’s okay. everyone has different limits. and i know mine. i know when something is helping me grow. and i know when something is slowly wearing me down. i don’t see myself growing there after what i experienced. i don’t see myself becoming the professional i want to be in that environment. and once i accepted that truth, the decision became surprisingly simple. it was not easy, but necessary.
because sometimes leaving isn’t giving up. sometimes leaving is choosing yourself. sometimes leaving is protecting your peace. sometimes leaving is recognizing that no opportunity is worth sacrificing your wellbeing for. especially at the beginning of your career, when you’re still learning who you are and what kind of environment allows you to thrive.
for a while, i felt guilty about leaving. i wondered if i should have stayed longer. if i should have tried harder. if i was making a mistake.
but now? i feel relieved and lighter. like i can finally breathe again. and maybe that’s how i know i made the right decision.
xoxo, a.