Here's what it feels like after you quit your job

I think you should quit your job.

If you’re like me, you did everything right. You followed the career path formula that was supposed to lead to success, only to wake up realizing that your time, values, and energy were being betrayed.

In my case, I called my company out for things I was seeing that didn’t align with my values, and I got written up for it.

I was given a choice: resign or be terminated. I chose to resign.

I’m now sharing my journey ahead and helping others do the same.

Here is everything you need to know before I tell you what it felt like after resigning:

I didn’t like sitting at my birthday dinner a year ago and being told that I would probably be seen as a villain who doesn’t support fair wages and a safe work environment.

I didn’t like learning all the ways a company could improve and seeing systems that could genuinely make my industry more efficient, bringing those ideas to leadership, and being told I “overthought everything.”

I didn't like feeling like I was betraying my values because my company laid off a bunch of people and now I had all of their responsibilities.

I didn't like asking an employee to quickly learn a new skill and work different hours that could potentially put her out of the second job she needs to afford living in an expensive town. I didn't like hearing that because her contract said the company could “change her roles and responsibilities,” they didn’t have to compensate her.

I didn’t like that when I tried my best to put that employee in a place where they could feel empowered, by giving them more time and support, I was told I was slowing the project down.

I didn’t like that when I emailed my bosses the Thursday before the Tuesday that employee was going to be out, I was told that I should have done more to notify them.

I didn’t like that when I initially refused to tell my boss how I truly felt about the project, they insisted they were my friend and mentor, and when I finally told them, I was written up a couple of weeks later.

I didn’t like going on LinkedIn every day and seeing other industries use the talents of good journalists for their own benefit, and it’s a good deal for the journalists because the industry we poured our time and energy into is slow to innovate and, as a result, can’t offer us a more competitive rate.

I didn’t like feeling like a middle-aged, burnt-out millennial and being jealous of people younger than me achieving more time, energy, and financial freedom.

After I got written up, I had a feeling that my time there was going to be short. So when it actually happened, it was a mixture of “I knew it” and “wow, it actually happened.” I knew the first thing I needed to do was something for myself, so I drove to the nearest mall and got an enchilada.

In the months leading up to my resignation, I was subconsciously preparing by reading a ton of self-help books, including Designing Your Life, which is written by two Stanford professors. My favorite exercise in the book was listing everything that energized me and everything that drained my energy.

It was validating to see that I genuinely love talking to people, hearing their stories, and providing any help I can.

I also learned in another book, Life of Your Dreams, that I should use my talents in service to others.

These reflections became my compass on my journey forward.

It’s what led me to create Start From Here, because, if you don’t know what’s next, you can follow me and start from here.

Next, I told my parents. I knew I had to eventually tell them, but actually doing it scared me. I reframed that fear into pride in my decision.

In a simple text, I told them why I resigned, my plan ahead, that I felt positive about my future, and that I’d call them when I was ready to talk.

When I finally called, I explained what led to my decision and why I made it. It felt good to build my second life on my terms. And by setting that boundary with my parents, I let them into this new journey on my timeline.

I was lucky enough to get a severance, so during the first week of unemployment I planned out how long it would cover my bills and what month I would absolutely have to get a job, no matter what, to survive.

I called my financial advisor and didn’t hold back on the details. I wanted to account for everything: Will I be dinged on taxes for not having insurance? Will I have to pay taxes? Am I getting a refund? What do I do with my 401k?

Knowing this date gave me the agency to see how long I had before I had to make new plans to reach my goal of time, location, and energy freedom.

I now knew when I would need to get a part-time job or start driving for Uber to stay afloat.

I also calculated out how much monthly I would need to make each month by telling ChatGPT all of my expenses. I didn’t make any compromises. I told it all of my expenses as if I were still earning the income I had before. That was the life I knew, and if I liked that life and didn’t want to change it, I figured I’d better find a way to make that kind of money.

So I transferred my severance into a savings account and set up auto-transfers on the days I would have normally gotten a paycheck.

One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned so far is that protecting the energy it takes to do a task matters more than protecting the time it takes.

Instead of laying out a schedule hour by hour and trying to cram an ungodly list of things into timed blocks, I now schedule my days in time blocks. I give myself three hours of deep work.

On Sundays, I plan out my blocks. In my life right now, my blocks include EMBA work, newsletter/podcast work, applying to jobs, monitoring my finances (I gave finances its own dedicated block because I want to build the habit of keeping track of my spending. I’m also unemployed, so it’s probably in my best interest.), going to the gym, and eating breakfast, lunch, and dinner (yes, I set time aside for these because when I was working there were some days I would forget to eat).

Each day during the week there is Task A, Task B, and Task C. Each day I assign Task A to one of my blocks. Then on that day, I know for three hours I will work on that block, later in the day I will spend three hours working on another block, and then I end my day working on Task C for two hours.

Now here is the discipline: There are only so many hours in a day. If you choose to start Task A later, that’s fine, but will you be able to accomplish Tasks B and C in the same day? Yes, some days I make compromises, but you quickly see what energizes you and what de-energizes you, what eats up your time, and how to adjust when you do it this way. And you feel less overwhelmed.

The job market is rough right now. So instead of applying to a thousand jobs a day, I set aside an hour each week to apply for roles and I also reach out to companies I’m curious about by requesting conversations to learn more about their culture and the people behind them.

The authors of Designing Your Life actually suggested this approach. I’ll be honest, it does feel odd at first telling companies you’re unemployed and not looking for a job with them. But you quickly see which companies are open, generous, and genuinely interested in helping others and which ones do not respond. I think that says something about them even before applying.

I feel a sense of acceptance. I am designing the life I want by filling it with things I want to pursue, like this newsletter, an eventual co-joining podcast, and my Executive MBA degree. I know I’ll need to get a job if the newsletter and podcast don’t generate enough income right away, but at least I am dividing my time and energy into things I want to pursue, and I am in control of how much time and energy I give it.

That’s my reason and why I am doing this. I’m launching a podcast shortly under the same name, Start From Here, where I’ll be talking with people who’ve resigned, pivoted, reinvented, and sharing the emotions, lessons, and actionable items they did to pursue a better path.