In the spirit of LinkedIn, I would like to congratulate myself on my own work anniversary. It’s almost a year to the day that I wiped my eyes, took a deep breath and told my employers I was terribly sorry but the role really wasn’t right for me and I’d like to hand in my notice. A year since I decided I simply wasn’t capable of working for a prestigious organisation, on a title I’d dreamed of writing for since I was 17. A year since every day started with a panic attack and ended with a bad dream. A year since I stopped expecting to hear sentences that started with my name and ended with “we’re letting you go”.
Everyone told me that quitting was brave. But last year it felt like my only option, or perhaps the best of three: I could leave; I could get fired; or I could stay in reception weeping all day and hoping people would assume I was some kind of art installation. I didn’t leave with a job to go to, or any definite employment prospects. All I knew was that some instinct for self preservation had kicked in. I’d been trying to ignore these anxious feelings for a while, but they were getting too big to hide from. I needed to have faith in myself and believe I was doing the right thing.
Given that one in four of us will experience a mental health problem every year, we need to accept that, even though we’d love to, most of us can’t regulate our issues so they occur outside office hours. After I left my staff job, fellow anxiety sufferers told me that they struggle too, that work exacerbates the problem, and that many offices simply aren’t nice places for humans to be.
In large organisations it’s easy for basic communication problems to become issues that make anxiety sufferers feel alienated and paranoid. If any of your work is client based, you’ll be familiar with endless, soul crushing, non-constructive criticism along the lines of “We don’t know what we want, but we hate what you’ve done and we’re not going to tell you why” – frustrating for everyone, and confidence destroying if your mental health issues are rooted in low self esteem.
We’re overworked and under appreciated. No matter how many campaigns demonstrate that the effective worker is the well rested worker, we’re made to feel that our worth is based on how early we come in, how late we stay, and the shortness of our lunches. Not long before I left, a colleague expressed surprise that I bought my lunch from a chain cafe 15 minutes walk away. “It’s a long time to be out of the office,” he said – when that precious, computerless half hour of fresh air was the only bearable part of my day.
At the time, leaving my job seemed a compromise. I’d had to choose my mental health over my career, and I couldn’t fight the feeling that everyone who knew me must secretly be thinking I was lazy, stupid and wholly lacking in ambition. Surely, if I really cared about my prospects, I’d go in until my heart stopped, or I was thrown out for crying at my desk. Quitters never win, and winners never quit, right? I’d simply demonstrated that I wasn’t cut out for the big leagues, and success would elude me. I’d have to make my peace with it.
But a curious thing happened.
Leaving allowed me to forge my own path. Being away from an office and working independently gave me a great sense of autonomy. I felt my professional confidence return. It was like finding a friend who you think has ditched you, only to discover that you’ve been waiting at the wrong bar all night. My pride in what I do is now greater than my fear of getting it wrong. Admittedly many people would choose a defined role and a designated workplace over freelancing, with its lack of structure and irregular pay cheques. But working by myself, for myself, has allowed me to achieve more ambitions than I ever thought possible, as well as being the best option for my mental health.
Things aren’t perfect. I struggle to strike a balance, to fight the feeling that everyone wants everything from me all at once and to eat and shower regularly. But now I know what I’m capable of when I’m feeling confident, relaxed and happy, and how detrimental it is to my productivity to feel overworked and anxious, I’m getting better at making decisions and setting boundaries. Putting my wellbeing first has put me in a position of strength.
I used to think that I had to choose between my mental health and success. Now I know that I can’t achieve my career goals unless I’m doing what feels good.
In the spirit of LinkedIn, I would like to congratulate myself on my own work anniversary. It’s almost a year to the day that I wiped my eyes, took a deep breath and told my employers I was terribly sorry but the role really wasn’t right for me and I’d like to hand in my notice. A year since I decided I simply wasn’t capable of working for a prestigious organisation, on a title I’d dreamed of writing for since I was 17. A year since every day started with a panic attack and ended with a bad dream. A year since I stopped expecting to hear sentences that started with my name and ended with “we’re letting you go”.
Everyone told me that quitting was brave. But last year it felt like my only option, or perhaps the best of three: I could leave; I could get fired; or I could stay in reception weeping all day and hoping people would assume I was some kind of art installation. I didn’t leave with a job to go to, or any definite employment prospects. All I knew was that some instinct for self preservation had kicked in. I’d been trying to ignore these anxious feelings for a while, but they were getting too big to hide from. I needed to have faith in myself and believe I was doing the right thing.
Given that one in four of us will experience a mental health problem every year, we need to accept that, even though we’d love to, most of us can’t regulate our issues so they occur outside office hours. After I left my staff job, fellow anxiety sufferers told me that they struggle too, that work exacerbates the problem, and that many offices simply aren’t nice places for humans to be.
In large organisations it’s easy for basic communication problems to become issues that make anxiety sufferers feel alienated and paranoid. If any of your work is client based, you’ll be familiar with endless, soul crushing, non-constructive criticism along the lines of “We don’t know what we want, but we hate what you’ve done and we’re not going to tell you why” – frustrating for everyone, and confidence destroying if your mental health issues are rooted in low self esteem.
We’re overworked and under appreciated. No matter how many campaigns demonstrate that the effective worker is the well rested worker, we’re made to feel that our worth is based on how early we come in, how late we stay, and the shortness of our lunches. Not long before I left, a colleague expressed surprise that I bought my lunch from a chain cafe 15 minutes walk away. “It’s a long time to be out of the office,” he said – when that precious, computerless half hour of fresh air was the only bearable part of my day.
At the time, leaving my job seemed a compromise. I’d had to choose my mental health over my career, and I couldn’t fight the feeling that everyone who knew me must secretly be thinking I was lazy, stupid and wholly lacking in ambition. Surely, if I really cared about my prospects, I’d go in until my heart stopped, or I was thrown out for crying at my desk. Quitters never win, and winners never quit, right? I’d simply demonstrated that I wasn’t cut out for the big leagues, and success would elude me. I’d have to make my peace with it.
But a curious thing happened.
Leaving allowed me to forge my own path. Being away from an office and working independently gave me a great sense of autonomy. I felt my professional confidence return. It was like finding a friend who you think has ditched you, only to discover that you’ve been waiting at the wrong bar all night. My pride in what I do is now greater than my fear of getting it wrong. Admittedly many people would choose a defined role and a designated workplace over freelancing, with its lack of structure and irregular pay cheques. But working by myself, for myself, has allowed me to achieve more ambitions than I ever thought possible, as well as being the best option for my mental health.
Things aren’t perfect. I struggle to strike a balance, to fight the feeling that everyone wants everything from me all at once and to eat and shower regularly. But now I know what I’m capable of when I’m feeling confident, relaxed and happy, and how detrimental it is to my productivity to feel overworked and anxious, I’m getting better at making decisions and setting boundaries. Putting my wellbeing first has put me in a position of strength.
I used to think that I had to choose between my mental health and success. Now I know that I can’t achieve my career goals unless I’m doing what feels good.
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