Today, I quit.
I quit an internship that didn’t make me happy. The people were great, the work was good. But my passion, my heart, and my head were not invested in it. I took this internship to fill spaces in my schedule that otherwise was used to sleep and mope about the unhappiness I felt; but being busy didn’t fix that. Instead I regretted the time I spent staring at a computer screen or out the window at the (albeit great) view of downtown.
Could I have been more engaged? Could I have asked for more challenging tasks? Could I have made this experience more than what it ended up being? Maybe.
The fact is that I have always known an office job wasn’t for me. If I was paid it would make sitting in a little room easier, sure. If I had interest and passion in the work I was doing, maybe I could handle it. But what does it say about me if I tolerate an unhealthy environment for money (or, in this case, none at all)?
We grow up being told to not be quitters, to take the opportunities we are given and to stick with it- and I agree! Sometimes you need to go through the hard things to get to the good stuff, and the difficult parts of life often inform our perceptions of the better moments. In this case, the cons outweighed the pros and between my paid job, this internship, and other obligations in my life (like sleeping) I didn’t want to do it anymore.
I’ve quit few things in my life. I don’t regret them. I don’t feel as though I gave up- although in some ways I definitely did- but rather eliminated something from my life in the hopes that I can create something more productive with my time.
I grew up seeing my dad responsibly going to work everyday to a job he didn’t like and coming home tired and frustrated. He provided for our family, he did what he felt he needed to do in order to give me the opportunities I have had in my life and for that I am incredibly grateful. But I can’t make the same choice. Call it non-traditional, call it the advances of the 21st century, I don’t care. In the end, my life has to be more than a 9-5 job.
I don’t know what the future holds. I don’t know what I’ll do. Maybe I’ll find enough satisfaction in the hours around 9-5 that I can tolerate being inside in the same room with the same people for that period of time.
For now, I will write. I’ll start with this post. I’ll sleep on it for a couple days. I’ll cook a real meal for the first time in awhile. I’ll relish the first blank space I have on my calendar. I’ll continue to look up plane tickets to the Middle East in the hopes that someday my savings account will be greater than that number.
And I’ll figure something out.