I Quit my Job

I quit my job.

Does this make me a quitter? I just couldn’t do it anymore. The travel was a nightmare. Three hours starting at 4am in the morning. And then staying like a ricocheting tennis ball here there and everywhere, forgetting half my things and living out of a rucksack for the majority of the week. Not to mention my husband and I are not spending any time together at all and I think this is negative.

So, I quit my job.

I had no time for my university study, and I really paid for that this week when I had to submit a mind boggling assignment. I mean, seriously, what IS the difference between semantics and phonology?! I got an extension and banged my head against the desk and ate my weight in sad pasta, and cried tears of shame and humiliation and excruciating pain.

So, yes, I quit my job.

I was earning next to nothing; lower than minimum wage. The money I did earn went straight on train travel. It was measly. I had no time for anybody or anything and my creative spark sizzled a little and then died. I was also horribly moody, because all my time was taken up teaching, tutoring, studying and planning. My family never see me.

So, how come I stayed there so long?

Well, quite simply, I loved it. I love it. I love the kids, I love the atmosphere, I love teaching. I even love feeling drained of energy but still dredging up enough to give somebody some valuable time. I really really really loved my job.

If I was still living back in that city, would I quit?

Hell no. Not for a very long time, at any rate.

But, I quit.

A part of me is worried that I can’t stick anything for long enough to really count. But another part argues that this was unsustainable, and I have to agree with the other part. But I also have misgivings; does this make me a quitter? Does this mean I am fickle? How many other jobs will I quit because I cannot handle the pressure?

But, was it really the pressure?

I quit because I am never home, because I miss my husband sorely and we haven’t been a proper unit since December 2015. I quit because now we have our own place, I need to be home with him instead of away for five days. I quit to put my marriage first. I quit to put my family first.

And I also quit because, in reality, this is not what I see myself doing for the rest of my life.

Yes. It is sad. I quit my job. And I am sad.

But also relieved.

Tremendously relieved. A heavy weight has been lifted from my shoulders. So that is how I know a good decision was made, albeit a tough one.

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Leonid Afromov

September in Review

I bought a second hand car last month. It is rickety, and the clutch is one of those old ones where it will stall the car if you don’t give a lot of gas whilst simultaneously pulling up the clutch. It has scuff marks all over it and the wheels are slightly bubbly with rust. But it is so clean and gorgeous and silver and it’s an adorable little 2005 Nissan Micra!

I left it with my parents this week so that they could make use of it before my father goes back to where he works abroad.

This is also the month where Aston Martin told my husband he might not have a job by October.

We had planned to go away in October but now it doesn’t seem like such a good idea given that we will be needing every penny that we have.

It doesn’t feel like such bad news, though. Because whatever happens, we will find a way. It’s sad news, of course. It would be the end of an era, in a way. It would have been an epoch in our lives.

In a way though, the change could be a good thing. A way to expand certain ideas. A pathway paved for new opportunities. The day is young, the sky is blue, and we are ever hopeful.

I am working now, of course. I tutor children. They pay me peanuts because I was green and asked for peanuts. I am still building myself up though. We will manage.

September was the month that leaves finally started falling from trees. She shrugged her shoulders amid the gusts of wind that signify a change in season, and golden leaves danced and twirled on the currents, sailing through deep blue skies, glinting in the fading summer sun.

September was the month that my doctors finally accepted that my hair loss was a real thing, and are starting to do something about it.

I read six books this month. I meant to read more but there it is!

September was beautiful this year. Her sunny days outnumbered her rainy ones. Her rain smelled earthy and fresh, and she showed us our first foggy morning of winter. It spread it’s soggy, smoky tendrils through the blades of grass and the branches of trees, and then fled when the sun beamed, leaving behind a dripping wetness, the world beaming with colour.

Was your September any good?