What I Learned from My 2-Month Hiatus From Work
On a particularly bleak Friday in April, I sloshed down the sidewalk to my car in a torrential downpour—the kind of rainstorm where the water stands two inches deep on the sidewalk so there is no hope for salvaging your shoes—and contemplated quitting my job.
I had a wonderful job doing deeply meaningful work at one of the largest nonprofits in the country. It was fast-paced and fulfilling. There were late nights eating pizza at the office and early mornings so busy I didn’t look up to eat breakfast until noon. I started drinking coffee on this job—and I don’t even like coffee.
But it had been three years, and I knew that I wanted to move to a city that I loved near my family. The palm trees of South Carolina were beckoning.
In light of some developments at work leading up to that Friday, the time had come. I handed in my resignation letter the following week and packed my bags.