Welp. I resigned from my job* 4 weeks ago. My last day was June 14. No, I don't have another job lined up yet. This is my first week home and it's been... odd.
Why is this so embarrassing to talk about?
I
grew up in a very performance-oriented household. This served me very
well growing up, because my inclination has historically been to quit
when things get hard (AP Calculus, I'm looking at you).
I'm
so grateful that my parents encouraged me to persevere through, for
example, nursing school, despite my existential crises and numerous
threats to change majors. In that instance, perseverance was a very good
thing. But there's perseverance, and then there's stupidity (if you
keep doing the
same thing over and over again, you'll keep getting the same results, right?).
In
the past few years, I've taken perseverance to the extreme: piling
things on my plate and brute-forcing my way through them because I can.
Until... I can't.
Like the country song says, you have to know when to hold 'em and know when to fold 'em. If
you're anything like me, folding seems to be synonymous with failure.
Like you didn't try hard enough. But sometimes, that's just not the
case.
I'm excited and very anxious about where this path will lead. In the meantime, if you live nearby and want to hang out, let me know. My calendar is wide open!
*Disclaimer:
This is NOT meant to be a reflection on my recent employer. It's very
much the product of the progression of the last 2 years in my personal
life. I am very at peace with my decision and I know it's the right
choice at this time. Still, I'm sad that this job wasn't a better fit. I
have had the honor of working with a truly esteemed staff of
professionals. I would without a doubt go to this clinic as a patient
because they provide such great care. I loved being part of a small
but hard-working team. But at the end of the day, it wasn't the right place for me.
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