Me, My Life & Why Part 5

Part 5

At 9:41am on a random Tuesday, I decided to quit my entire life.

Not in the dramatic, “move to a cabin and start an organic candle brand” kind of way.

More like: I no longer consent to participating in this version of existing.

Fuck the routine.

Fuck the fake smile.

Fuck the spreadsheets, the group chats, the polite laughter, and the subtle expectation that I’ll “circle back” to anything except my own bed.

I closed my laptop, stared at my coffee like it had personally betrayed me, and typed exactly five words into an email draft:

“I resign. Good luck to your spreadsheets.”

I read it back.

Smiled.

Added an emoji ✌️because I’m petty but polite.

Then I hit send.

No subject line.

No explanation.

No twelve-paragraph apology to soften the blow.

Just ✌️ and vibes.

And I have never felt more spiritually aligned.

Then I blocked three email threads, two WhatsApp contacts, and a Slack channel called “Daily Wins” that had been spiritually harassing me since January.

I don’t want a badge for replying to emails. I want a nap and lower cortisol, thank you.

I took a breath, like, a real one, deep and wide and entirely mine.

Then I sat in silence for five full minutes and waited for the guilt to crash in.

It didn’t.

Which was… alarming.

Because I’m usually the queen of guilt. Guilt is my cardio.

Guilt over unwashed dishes. Guilt over not replying fast enough. Guilt over not being enough in ways I can’t even define.

But this time?

Nothing.

No spiral.

No shame.

Just this strange, delicious quiet.

Like I’d finally stepped off a treadmill I didn’t realise was on fire.

To be clear, I haven’t just quit my job.

I’ve quit the whole performance.

I quit pretending I’m fine when I’m clearly falling apart.

I quit smiling through meetings I don’t understand and agreeing to things I hate because I feel like I should.

I quit social plans I dread.

I quit trying to look like someone who has her life together when I’m out here pairing odd socks and convincing myself toast is a meal plan.

Do I have a backup plan?

No.

Do I have money saved?

Also no.

But I do have three unopened emails marked “urgent” and a profound desire to go outside and scream into the void, so honestly? That feels like a start.

I made a new list, not a to-do list, a not-do list.

It includes:

Pretending to be okay

Saying yes when I want to say “hell no”

Replying instantly to messages I haven’t emotionally processed yet

Accepting compliments with a nervous laugh instead of just saying thank you

Being on time (optional)

I sat on the floor and celebrated with a yoghurt I didn’t even put in a bowl.

Just peeled the lid back and ate it like a wild creature of the woods.

Liberated.

Sticky.

Unemployed.

And when the postman knocked, I didn’t panic.

Didn’t hide.

Didn’t pretend I was busy.

I answered the door in my hoodie, hair in an unintentional messy bun, yoghurt in hand, and signed for a parcel like a woman who has nothing to prove.

I think that’s the moment I realised:

I wasn’t having a breakdown.

I was having a breakthrough.

Yes, I probably should’ve waited. Made a plan. Drafted a cleaner exit.

But if I’d waited for the right time, I never would’ve left.

And I’m done waiting for my life to feel like mine.

So I quit.

No notice.

No guilt.

No regrets.

Just ✌️and vibes. And a hoodie, obviously.