I found myself pacing in my bedroom, phone pressed against my ear, gazing out at the street below where a garbage truck rumbled noisily. “I’ve been thinking a lot about our conversation last week. I’ve decided it’s best for me to end my contract when the month is up,” I finally said, though doubt lingered. Was this the right decision? Should I have toughed it out longer? Was quitting right after a raise irresponsible?
My boss’s incredulous pause on the other end didn’t help. “April… really? What happened?”
What happened? It felt like every conversation with him was a waste of breath. Two years earlier, I had started as a contract content writer at a small marketing agency. Initially, I focused solely on writing, but my role quickly ballooned. Soon, I was managing content, projects, and social media for three major clients, yet my pay didn’t reflect these added responsibilities.
Ironically, my assignments often focused on HR topics like workplace culture and mental health, while my reality was a workplace that prioritized quantity over quality, leaving me overwhelmed and unable to produce my best work.
My body began to protest early on. During the chaotic onboarding process, I noticed significant hair loss. As responsibilities piled up, sleep became elusive, and physical symptoms like heart palpitations, lightheadedness, and anxiety attacks emerged. My body was sending signals, but I wasn’t listening.
Even after renegotiating my contract in hopes of more pay and clearer expectations, relief was fleeting. Physical symptoms intensified—jaw inflammation, chronic stomach pain, and insomnia became my nightly companions. My job had become a source of constant physical and emotional turmoil.
“Pressure affects you emotionally and physically,” my counselor, Matt Raeder, noted during our frequent sessions over the years. While my personal life improved, my job became increasingly unbearable. Stress accumulated, manifesting in sleep and eating disorders, teeth grinding, and concentration issues.
Having been a massage therapist for over a decade before this job, I was familiar with the physical toll of stress but struggled to prioritize my own well-being. The belief that “it’s easier to find a job when you have one” didn’t ring true for me. I lacked the energy to pursue other opportunities amidst the turmoil.
“When you’re physically and emotionally drained, decision-making suffers,” Raeder wisely observed. I feared that staying longer would only lead me to settle for any job to escape, repeating the cycle of stress and dissatisfaction. I knew I needed time to recover and make healthier choices.
The day before I made the decision to quit, I sat with my partner, Fred, tears streaming down my face. My body was in agony, but Fred’s gentle touch and supportive words gave me clarity. By that evening, I knew my body was telling me, “Enough is enough.”
The morning after handing in my notice, my stomach pains eased, and for the first time in months, I slept peacefully through the night. “Pay attention to your body,” Raeder had often reminded me. Finally, I did—and it paid off.
Three months since leaving that toxic environment, I’ve rediscovered joy in reading and writing. I’ve started gardening and spend more time outdoors with Fred, nurturing healthier relationships and a healthier me. I’ve learned to trust my body’s signals, understanding how anxiety and relaxation feel physically. Armed with this self-awareness, I’m now searching not just for any job, but for one that aligns with my values and respects my well-being.
