3 Clues I Was Totally Done With My Job That I Tried To Brush Off As No Big Deal
When you're truly burned out, the signs aren't always dramatic.
MAYA LAB | Shutterstock From the time I began working after college, I aspired to be a woman in leadership and “have it all”: marriage, kids, career. But when I reached my goal, I didn’t feel the way I imagined I would. Becoming a parent reshaped my priorities gradually, yet profoundly, and at the end of March, I stepped away from a career I had spent over a decade building.
The woman who started out chasing that career path with such drive felt like a stranger to the one who sat in the corner office. Leaving my job was one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever made, and the choice was filled with doubt and guilt.
Will I lose myself if I step away from work? Will people see me as an ingrate, giving up the amazing opportunity I had been given? Will my choice to prioritize motherhood over career make it harder for other women to achieve leadership positions?
Now that I’m on the other side of this decision, I can honestly say my only regret is not leaving sooner. Looking back, the signs were clear — my body and mind were trying to tell me it was time to let go, but I ignored them.
If I had been brave enough to trust myself, I might have recognized those signals for what they were: a call to move on and make space for something better.
Here are three clues that I was done with my job that I tried to brush off as no big deal:
1. Dreaming of being fired
After I graduated, I had a job in customer service for a chemical company. It was grueling, stressful, and underpaid work, but it proved to be a great launchpad for my career.
In that role, I worked with a woman who held that job for over three decades. Bless her — I barely lasted two years. Every time someone from HR or a higher up in our department would come around our desks, with panic in her voice, she would say the same thing, “Oh no, I’m getting fired, I just know it!”
I was green, but even then, I knew she was being ridiculous. She was an extremely high performer and put up with being dramatically underpaid for 30 years. They would never let her go.
In the months leading up to quitting my most recent job, I found myself having the same thoughts as my former coworker whenever my boss or the HR director would come around, but with one key difference. Instead of panic and dread, my thought was coated in hope and desire.
God, I hope they let me go.
It’s such a dark thought, but near the end, I was dreaming of being fired. That way, I could have my cake and eat it, too. Quitting meant abandoning my team to manage my workload. It meant admitting that all the resources and training my company committed to me and my success had been wasted.
But if they fired me, it wasn’t my decision to leave. I would be the victim. I could still be the good guy.
2. Noticiing physical symptoms
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About a year before I gave my notice, the chest pains started. During my work day, at least once a day, I would start feeling short of breath as I felt my lungs begin to tighten. To maintain enough breath in my lungs, I would double over at my desk to try to increase my lung capacity while I gasped for air.
I kept these episodes to myself for five months before even telling my husband about them. Eventually, overcome with fear, I went to an urgent care center to be checked by a doctor. They recommended I go to the ER, where doctors confirmed I was medically fine and the pain was likely stress-induced.
At the time, I lied and said this news brought me relief — I was okay. But honestly, I was devastated to be healthy. Why couldn’t they have found an ulcer?
Secretly, I wanted to be sick. I wanted a get-out-of-jail-free card so I could say, “Look, I’m sick! It says so right on this page from my doctor! I must rest, I have no choice.” Stress was not tangible enough to let me off the hook, even if the pain I felt was real.
In hindsight, that delusional thinking terrifies me. I was so unwilling to take the physical symptoms from stress seriously that I kept grinding for another five months before saying enough was enough.
3. Losing myself
In order to avoid feeling like a failure at both work and home, I moved myself to the lowest priority. I abandoned the volunteer and community work that gave me a deeper purpose.
I skipped meals to fit in more conference calls throughout the day. I gave up time with my husband during weeknights to meet with teams in Asia. I routinely stepped away from time with my family on weekends or during vacations to make sure things weren’t slipping through the cracks at work.
I was so lost in the cyclone that I forgot that the reason I worked so hard to advance my career and earn more money was so that I could use it to enjoy time with my family and friends. Once I finally quit, I felt my true self rush back.
I began to pick up activities I had deprioritized that once brought me so much joy: cooking, reading, and crafting. I felt myself becoming a better friend and family member: reaching out and making plans, remembering birthdays and anniversaries, picking up gifts for no reason.
Not until the noise settled down did I realize how much of myself I had lost to a job that didn’t offer me fulfillment.
Although the signs that I needed to course correct were undeniable, I invested my time and sacrificed my happiness for work that brought me nothing but stress for far too long.
Early in life, I drank the Kool-Aid from American culture that led me to believe that I was not enough; that I needed to always work and grind and achieve to be adequate.
All my life, I had been squirreling away money for a rainy day, but when the clouds opened up, I didn’t feel worthy enough to use it.
Now, I am taking life at a slower pace. I am savoring every precious moment of my daughter’s childhood. I am caring for my body through exercise, rest, and nourishing food.
The guilt I feel for steadying my pace to enjoy life is subsiding. I still grieve the loss of that twenty-something girl and her ambition to transcend the glass ceiling. I honor her hard work and sacrifice by choosing to live in alignment with who I am today and finally embracing a version of success that brings me true joy.
Tiffany Judge is a writer and essayist whose contributions can be found on Medium and YourTango.com. After spending 15 years in the corporate world, she has recently turned her focus to writing. She is a lifelong learner and brings a sharp analytical eye and deep personal insight to her work.
