I never really planned on quitting my job. Since I was young, I had wanted to be a journalist. The thought of people reading things I wrote sent me over the moon. It’s not often that the opportunity to do what you love comes around, and I thought I was making the right choice when I decided to take the leap. It doesn’t feel like work when you’re doing what you love, and that rang true. I loved writing the news and just writing for a living. It was fun, and seeing your name on a byline is a feeling of pride that I don’t think I can replicate. I don’t think there was a day where I disliked the practice of what I was doing, and yet I daily felt that something was missing.
When I look back on it, I should have waited. Taken a couple of months to live worry-free without deadlines or rent payments. I had only taken a two-week break after graduating from college to join the workforce full-time, but I was doing what I thought felt right. In your 20s, there’s immense pressure on you to follow the path of those around you. While in undergrad, I felt that weight on my shoulders every day, pushing me to do more and more, even if it was unhealthy. It culminated in me taking 20 hours of classes, working a 10-hour a week internship, and doing 60 hours of service work a month for my scholarship during my senior year. Even then, I still found a way to feel like I wasn’t doing enough. I needed a break, but I kept telling myself, “This is just what everyone does.” When I was lucky enough to get a job during the height of COVID-19, I wasn’t happy because I was going to be employed; I was excited I wasn’t going to be one of “those people” that sat at home and did nothing with their degree after graduating. I was “successful.”
I spent so much time trying to live up to what I felt like I should be doing that I neglected to listen to those around me questioning my path. I had a long conversation with my mom before I accepted the position, and I remember her asking me if I wanted to take time to come home instead. At the time, I found myself not wanting to. It felt like passing up the opportunity of a lifetime. It took two of my grandparents dying, a good portion of my immediate family catching COVID while I was 300 miles away unable to travel, and countless missed birthdays, holidays, and family get-togethers for me to realize I hadn’t been around my family for more than two weeks at a time in more than five years.
There’s merit to pushing forward and accomplishing what you think is impossible, but there is also merit to listening to your gut. In my case, I was tired and missed my family, but I pushed those thoughts aside because I wanted to go down the path that I felt would make me the most successful. I regret it. There are memories and time lost with family and friends that I will never get back because I was so focused on “being successful” that I forgot to spend time living life.
It took a long time for me to accept that I had “failed.” Given up to come home. Despite the consequences surrounding the decision, it was the truth, but failure isn’t always catastrophic. We can grow from failure and learn from mistakes we made in the past. In failing, I was able to come home and spend time with the people who I love the most and find peace of mind that I desperately needed but ignored for far too long.
I wish I had a happy ending for my story, but it’s still being written. What I can do though is leave some advice for those who find themselves at the same crossroads I found myself at three months ago: It’s okay to take a break. To wait for your opportunity. To listen to your gut. To take the time to turn your brain off, walk away from responsibility, and come back more prepared. You’ll thank yourself later.
Matthew J. Harris is a former Flyer editorial assistant.
