In October I wrote a very triumphant post about how I had quit my job and taken a new opportunity writing and blogging full time. I was so excited for this amazing opportunity, something to really sink my teeth into.
It was definitely that, at first. Before I’d even started working full time I was hoping on planes and spending time in the main office. I met a lot of great people and learned a lot of new things, and worked damn hard. But as the months went on and I continued to travel, work my butt off, and struggle with the limitations with working with a new team remotely, I started to feel a little less amorous towards my job.
Things just didn’t seem to be clicking. Something felt off. I tried to ignore the feeling for as long as possible. After all, this was THE JOB. The one I’d taken a huge risk to get. I’d bet big on this job, it had to be perfect. I ignored the nagging feeling in my stomach, and the growing dread for Monday morning (a feeling I’ve never experienced before).
I avoided acknowledging these feelings for as long as I could, convinced it was a problem I was having. I was me, I just wasn’t adjusting and as long as I continued to try as hard as I could, everything would be fine. Every time someone asked me how the new job was going, I’d put on my brightest smile and say “Great!” even though I didn’t feel that way inside.
I continued on that way for five months, but it seemed like the more I tried to hold things together, the more it fell apart. It all came to a head when one night I dissolved into an inconsolable fit of tears and cried out all of my frustrations into my husband’s arms. The job wasn’t working out. It was too much, and the harder I tried to make it fit, the worse I seemed to do. I needed to quit.
So I did. And it was hard. I’ve never quit anything in my life, not really. The only time I’ve quit a job was to go to a new job, or to go back to school. It made me feel like such a failure. I’d failed at this job. In fact, I felt like such a loser that I haven’t been able to blog about it until now. It was too painful to admit to all of you.
I quit my dream job, because it turned out to not be my dream job.
So what am I doing now?
My old employer never ended up filling my old position. They were happy to have me back, and ended up giving me a raise, putting me on salary instead of hourly, and giving me my own office. I have been able to apply a ton of what I learned at the not-dream-job to my new position, and I’ve been working there for a few months now. I’m much happier now, and I’m really grateful that I was able to go back to my old position, because there aren’t many marketing jobs in this rural town.
So that’s a big secret I’ve been ashamedly keeping from all of you for months. I quit my dream job, and I’m happy about it.
Have you ever done something similar to this? Started school and dropped out after realizing it wasn’t right? Took a job that wasn’t right for you? I want to know?