It's been 3 months since I quit my job.
Well, if you want to call it 'quitting.' To me that implies that I gave up, or made it some big dramatic event - as if I packed my bags and stormed out with a big middle finger.
In reality, it was the furthest thing from.
I gave my boss the notice no less than 7 months ago. I ran into the washroom, splashed my face with cold water, and told him I kinda maybe want to try my own thing someday soon.
We came to an agreement that it was effectively my 4 months' notice; aka the longest 2-week notice ever recorded.
From there, we began the transition of looking for a new hire and closing off any active projects.
May 31st hit, and I was done. I drove back home into the dark, cold, yet somehow sexy world of entrepreneurship.
Fast forward...
Three months have since passed (have I thrown enough dates at you yet?), and so far, I'm still not sure how to describe how it's gone. Maybe I can do a better job describing the feelings.
1.) You realize that just because you quit your job, things don't magically change.
I remember in my final few months, I repeatedly caught myself saying "Once I'm self-employed, I am going to do X."
Once I'm self-employed, I'm going to make a meal calendar and do meal prep every Sunday and stick to it like glue. Once I'm self-employed, I am going to drink lemon water every morning create one of those miracle morning routines. Once I'm self-employed, I am going use a productivity planner, implement the pomodoro technique, and have incredibly productive days.
Instead, basically none of that has happened.
2.) Time flies even faster.
I thought time flew by quickly before. Jeez, it's like 8x faster now. Every time I think about the fact that my last day was 3 months ago, it puts me into a spiral of panic. I am not as far along as I thought I would be after 3 months.
3.) You constantly feel like you're racing against the clock.
Since I have a 'fixed' pool of money that shrinks as each day goes by, I feel like I need to go fast. Faster than the speed of time, which is already flying 8x faster as previously stated. It's puts me under a lot of pressure, and is the excuse I use when I don't get those points in #1 done.
4.) You put yourself under more pressure than is actually necessary.
On the flip side, I find myself trying to go way faster than I probably need to go. I saved up ~12 months of living expenses, and have kept up the past 3 months through my freelance work. Yet somehow it feels like I'm on the verge of it all crashing down. As if my bank account is seconds away from hitting 0, and today is my last day.
Even though I have 12 months where I could make absolutely no income, I have spent most of my attention thus far trying to restore a monthly recurring income - even at the cost of taking me away from the businesses I want to be working on.
On one end, I feel as though generating a healthy side income (without taking another job) will give me full freedom to work on those businesses. On the other, it is definitely pushing things back a bit.
5.) It feels like this can't last forever.
Lately, I've been feeling like an 8 year old kid whenever he sees/hears Walmart's "Back to School" ads thrown at him all day long.
When you ask 8 people to go to the Roger's Cup with you on a Tuesday morning, and everyone declines due to work, you feel like the black sheep. It almost feels like this is a summer vacation, and that I'll need to find myself a job soon. I've even caught myself clicking on a couple job openings, 'just in case.'
Do I regret quitting?
The five points above sure don't sound glamorous. And I'm definitely not rolling around in the smooth luscious comfort of dollar bills.
But I am happy right now.
I love being able to get a game of tennis in at 9am on a Thursday, or extend my weekend by a couple days to spend time with the family. I love being able to choose what I want to work on, and cutting out the rest.
The mind games are the tricky part, and I'm not exactly set on my way, but I have faith that I'll figure it out.
And if not... that's ok. At least I won't be able to hate myself for not trying.
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