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It’s Like Suddenly I’m The Most Valuable Wage-Earning Employee In The History Of The Universe.

I’ve written about this before.

One of the hardest things, it seems, is going into work when you’ve already quit.

You’d think you’d be this giant ball of happiness — that every time something went wrong, you’d breathe a self-satisfied sigh of relief that soon, sweet soon, this would no longer be your burden to bear. The place would turn into this technicolor dreamworld with rainbows and butterflies and men with ties and button-down shirts would break into song every time you head to the lavatory.

But. The reality of the situation is that everything that bothered you before, now bothers you more. Much more. Tasks that turned your stomach pre-quittal become that much more grotesque when handed to you post-quittal. Your mind says, Why are you doing this? You’ve already quit. Just leave. You don’t need to stick it out another 2 weeks.

Suddenly, there’s all this pressure to finish projects. And new project ideas seem to appear from nowhere — projects that somehow, oh wonder of wonders, only you are qualified to handle. And it’s really really important they get finished before you leave, but oh, could you also do your regular tasks as well, because I’d like to put off learning them as long as possible, and really — it’s no big deal for you to stay another week, is it, because it’s not like you’re starting another real job…

Of course, I’ve never actually heard any of these things spoken out loud.

But I know the thoughts are there.

And really, it’s not so bad to feel needed. And it’s not so bad to feel like you’re making a contribution.

The problem arises when you start to feel used. Abused. And a little bit manipulated.

So the countdown begins to preserve my good cheer towards those who’ve employed me.

Quitting, it turns out, is how I maintain decent professional relationships.

And during that awkward time between quitting and actually leaving, I distract myself by making a plan.

I’m constructing a website to highlight my services, which, as much as I’d like them to say, “I travel the world and photograph and write about stuff,” will more likely say, “Give me money and I’ll take your picture. Or a picture of a house. Or your food. Or whatever you want me to photograph as long as it’s legal.”

And I almost hate to admit it because it seems that every would-be full-time blogger these days turns over to photography as a “back up” career, like it’s just something that any old hobbyist can pick up and turn into a business, and I would like to be the first to come out and tell you that is absolutely correct.

Of course, there’s much more to it than picking up a DSLR, sticking her in “auto” mode, and handing over some prints. And I fully intend to learn more ins-and-outs of people posing, lighting, and post processing, all while attempting to re-vamp this blog and scratch out some sort of writing existence.

I can make this happen.

will make this happen.

Not just for me, but for you. Because I feel like you have my back. Like this is important to you, too. Like you quit your job right along next to me and now I need to make this happen for the both of us.

And the good news, too, is that I won’t be scribbling out a post half-dressed for work while guzzling down a coffee and applying for mascara.

We’re going to start going for quality here, people.


Let’s be honest.

It will still be drivel.

But un-rushed drivel. Languishing drivel. Drivel with heart.

So bear with me, friends.

I have a lot to say.


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“Drivel with heart.” :D Love it.


Thank you. :)


Touche, my friend. Touche.

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