The Gift of Walking Away

I handed the managing director my resignation letter. He ripped it up, looked at me, and said, "You're not leaving." I walked back to my desk, printed another copy, and handed it right back. Two weeks later, I was unemployed.

From the outside, it looked like I was living a dream. I had the role I'd chased for years, but if we're being honest, it was daily suffering. For a while, I did what most of us do, and I leaned in. I told myself that good things require sacrifice, that quitting now would prove I never deserved the job in the first place. I gave it my all for a while longer before I let myself admit the truth; it was time to move on. That experience cost me more than time. It reinforced one of my longstanding beliefs that suffering was necessary for growth.

We're often taught that quitting means failure, so we stay in relationships, jobs, and plans that no longer fit who we are or who we're becoming. We tell ourselves it's perseverance. But often, it's fear: fear of admitting we were wrong, fear of what others will think, or fear of starting over after investing so much time. In the moment, those fears feel completely valid.

I finally broke the habit when I stopped ruminating on failure and started asking, "What is this costing me right now?" Over time, I realized that walking away isn't quitting. In my experience, it's choosing a path with a greater chance of happiness.

If you're standing where I was, I recommend skipping the vague soul-searching and excuses. Ask yourself two real questions instead:

• Have I tried to fix this in the last six months, or have I tolerated it? I'll let you in on a little pro tip: tolerance isn't a strategy.

• If I had no one to explain this to, would I still stay? If the answer changes once other people are in the room, that's fear of judgment.

Don't wait until the situation becomes unbearable before you let yourself answer these questions honestly.

The months after my resignation were terrifying but exciting. My exhaustion came from building something new – in this case, a new business – rather than from surviving a job that had run its course. That's the difference walking away actually provides you: not a clean ending, but room to start a meaningful one.