Last week I resigned.
Wow – I still can’t quite believe I’m actually writing that.
I am 33 years old. I have a loving husband who is self-employed and a 4 year old son who has just started primary school. I really am your average working Mum – albeit soon to be jobless Mum. Self imposed, of course… and the thought of which fills me with anticipation, excitement and fear!
I enjoy my job (mostly the people, pay and benefits) but for a few years now I’ve felt a sense of restriction.
Spending 8 hours a day at a desk, breathing recirculated air, the commute, the stress, driving home without dinner plans, working through lunch (my choice, granted) to do it all again the next day. Of course there have been many highlights and there’s obvious benefits being in a role where you’re surrounded by good, supportive people. But my life had become one of a repeating pattern. Of course there are opportunities to flex, to work less, to get a better balance – but for so long I have longed for a life of not owing anyone anything.
Being a Mum, wife, friend, manager, employee and everything in between is a mission in itself. When I finally sit on the sofa at 10pm I’d see my cat eye up the arm rest alongside me, make a quick dash for it and then purr in my earhole for the preceding 15 mins. At this point I don’t even want to stroke my cat… it’s been a long day and all I want is some peace, just me, alone, without anyone needing or wanting anything from me. Not even my cat.
I am sure many reading this will relate.
So I wanted to change something – and granted this is drastic – a little crazy, but that something was my job.
For some time now I have longed for freedom. To enjoy time at home, the school drops, to support the family business, to put nutritious food on the table, to teach, to do things that really speak to me.
But I, like many others, have inbuilt fear.
What if we won’t have enough money?
What if we may need medical insurance after all?
What if this?
What if that?
The loop in my head is as exhausting as it is keeping all 530 balls in the air.
But there is an even louder loop I hear on repeat.
What if I regret not being around more?
What if I regret not supporting our family business?
What if I regret not doing what sets me alive?
What if I regret not taking a leap of faith?
So, two trips around the sun later and this seed of “what is my purpose” has grown legs and blossomed into a great big oak and the regrets have outweighed my fears.
The roots are firmly planted and so here I am – shortly jobless – but with hope in every cell of my being that I can add a greater sense of purpose. Perhaps I’ll finally do that teaching, write that blog, support the family and have time for myself. Time.
And as my hubby said to me right before I hit the resignation button… “really, what’s the worst that can happen”.
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