Life has a funny way of working. And by funny, I mean deeply unserious and mildly personal.
At the end of November 2025, I quit my job with the very reasonable expectation that I’d be starting school in February 2026. I was burnt out, exhausted, and hanging on by a single iced coffee. So I decided to give myself two months to rest, build a schedule, heal, reset—romanticize my life a little. You know, main character energy.
What I forgot to factor in is that rest does not pay bills. Dogs do not care about self-discovery. And life, unfortunately, is still expensive even when you’re “working on yourself.”
So now the plot twist: instead of going back to school, I’m going back to work. School is getting dropped. The funniest part? Last semester I was actually doing really well. I was working toward transferring to a university… and I got in. Like, acceptance letter and everything. I only needed five more classes. FIVE. The plan was to take all five in February and transfer by fall.
But here I am, giving that up because I already begged for my job back and promised fully open availability. No boundaries. No “I need two set days off.” Apparently that was becoming a problem. Shocking, considering I keep choosing burnout and then acting surprised when I’m burnt out.
This is where I acknowledge the pattern: I make decisions thinking I’m choosing peace, and then immediately choose chaos because peace doesn’t cover rent. I convince myself this time will be different, that I’ll magically balance everything, and then life taps me on the shoulder and says, “Hey bestie, absolutely not.”
Do I regret quitting my job? Not really. Did I underestimate how fast life would humble me? Completely. And yes, I’m aware that some of this is self-inflicted. Growth, but make it expensive.
Anyway, this is me—temporarily giving up a university acceptance to clock back in, feed my dogs, and survive. It’s not the timeline I imagined, but it is very on brand.
