I'm Quitting My Job Today
Into the unknoooooooooown...
I did not sleep last night. And in that not sleeping, I realized that I miscalculated the amount of time between when I’ll depart my full-time, salaried position at a company I’ve worked at for over 8 years and the time I’ll begin my first freelance content creation gig.
(Yes. I’m a person who says “gig” now.)
Instead of one week, I’m looking at two weeks with no source of income. And because “gigs” only pay when they’re completed, I likely won’t be paid for at least another two weeks after that.
Oops.
Weeks of research and preparation before making the decision to take this leap into working for myself, and I’m thwarted by the disorientation of flipping the calendar from one month to the next.
So I’m lying here, not sleeping, knowing that tomorrow at noon, there will be no turning back. Well, at least no turning back without tucking my tail between my legs and sending management an email that says, “Never mind, j/k.”
So, no turning back.
Despite the lack of sleep, I’m at my favorite local coffee shop — I had to get out of the house! — waiting for my pre-scheduled resignation email to send. I am a jumpy bundle of nervous energy. My stomach turns with simultaneous excitement and panic at the thought of quitting.
I am positively vibrating. Perhaps coffee was a poor choice.
I am officially A Lot. I even gave Joe permission to keep his distance for the next day or so, in recognition of said A Lotness. I can barely handle myself; I don’t expect anyone else to handle me right now.
Why did I schedule the email? Why didn’t I just send it last night, when I made the final decision to put in my notice? Now, it feels like absolute torture watching the clock tick up to 12:00.
A co-worker who knows I’m quitting today messages me on Teams and says, “You could always just send it now.” And for some reason, I don’t want to. This adrenaline coursing through my veins is stressful, for sure, but I’m also … I don’t know, relishing the final moments before the resignation goes through and the cat’s officially out of the bag.
Or maybe I just like torturing myself?
Finally, the clock strikes twelve, and the email goes out. And I am instantly calmer. It’s like when a washing machine is off kilter and is violently rocking around, then the cycle ends and it’s suddenly quiet. I can feel my nervous system relaxing, and now I’m just…
Nauseated.
Waiting for the response.
Luckily, I don’t have to wait too long, and the response is as pleasant as I could’ve hoped for. Kind, professional, thankful for the time I’ve been at the company.
Huh. Well then. What were all those nerves for?
What the heck do I do with myself now?