I Quit My Depressing Job and Ran Away

Have you ever felt...on your own, worthless? Have your managers ever belittled you and made you feel like you’re incapable of doing your job right?

Well, if yes, this must be the article for you. If not, congratulations, you’re probably good at your job, but carry on reading for the thrill.

Saturday, 6th January 2018: Happy New Year, by the way.

I’ve read stories about how these successful people have quit their jobs and have sold all of their stuff and run off to the Caribbean. This is not that story. But maybe it helped me make my decision.

I’m not a successful person myself; I have no savings, a BUNCH of bills, and debt over £1000. I worked in a supermarket for over a year, and admittedly I used to love my job, helping pensioners pack their bags and chatting to them about their day. Sometimes you’re the only person they see that day and they leave happy because you’ve given them a good conversation.

For the past six months I’ve been staring into space, sitting on my till, looking dazed to the outside world. I’m imagining where I could be, anywhere else in the world I would rather be. It wasn’t just the job itself I became bored of but the people I was working with; some are the most kind, most amazing people you can imagine, but some also didn’t want to make me wake up and come into work the next day to put on a fake smile and fake my happiness for six hours. I’ve had a colleague imply I’m ugly when I don’t wear makeup, seeing a photo of me and saying “you're pretty WHEN you wear makeup” to me. I don’t care if I’m pretty without; I don’t have to wear makeup to be myself, and in fact, no one should.

I’ve had a supervisor with crazy mood swings. It depends which side of the bed he’s woken up on as to whether he likes you or not.

Yes, people have gone through worse, but I had enough. I was leaving crying most nights, and it was affecting my life outside of work.

So...what could I do? I walked into work on Saturday the 6th in my uniform, ready to start my shift, and as I walked through the back door something hit me. Just emotion I just wanted out. I wanted to be in all of these amazing places I had been daydreaming about.

“I quit.” The words came rolling out of my mouth before I had realised what I had said. I had finally said it. The truth was out, no more lying to keep people happy. I felt my eyes perk up as I repeated my last sentence. I spent my last ten minutes there handwriting my notice.

All I could think about now was leaving, getting away from this small town that barely lives. I’m 20 years old; I still live with my parents. When I got home, they were out...Maybe I can put this down to adrenaline, but I ran in my house and grabbed my weekend bag and stuffed as much stuff in it as I could...I left, without telling anyone.

There were moments where I had no idea what I was doing, where I was going. I have no savings, £17 in my bank, and half a tank of petrol. But I drove.

I’m now in Manchester. I have a friend here so it seemed like a great place to start my journey. Although this also seems like a stupid idea...I wanted people to know my story because I’m sure lots of you feel trapped in a bubble. But you don’t have to. Even though I have no idea what I’m going to do next, I’m already so much happier than I would be day in day out sitting on a till staring into space.