After the brief spurt last November where I vowed to quit my job over a period of 130 days, a few key things happened:
1. I moved out of the concrete jungle and into a much smaller “up-and-coming” city with Mr. J (cutting down my living expenses in half for a loft that makes my old shoebox look like a…well…shoebox)
2. I got rid of all my debt (woo hoo!).
3. I got complacent in my job…again
To my defense (and to my surprise), the salt mine allowed me to work from home a majority of the week. Thoughts such as… “well, this wouldn’t be too bad for a few more years…” and “I should feel very grateful for my stable job…” began to creep in. And I was grateful! …but I was also bored. And growing bitter again.
The temporary change in scenery did not eliminate the core problems: I don’t feel fulfilled; I have bigger dreams that don’t involve sitting in a cubicle (or at my kitchen table) for 40 hours a week; my values don’t align with the work I am doing or the organization I work for.
But still…I kept going. Until the week from hell happened and changed everything.
Current status: sitting in my solarium enjoying the view / ignoring my work emails / wondering how long my palm tree will survive