I've Quit My Job, I'm Going to Asia... What Have I Done...

"Just go! Quit your job and go!" my dad yells across the dinner table on a Sunday night about three weeks ago.

Fathers around the world are infamous for their "wisdom" and "advice." Mine, however, seems to have the self control of an untrained puppy on acid. A summary of his advice over the past decade can be summed up by this classic: "It's easier to ask forgiveness than permission" (a horrific thing to tell an 11-year-old!). And yet I listen, and the fallout is something that my father fears and takes pride in in equal measure.

I'm not going to pretend it's not good advice. I was struggling and have been for a long time. My mental health seems to be taking hit after hit without a second to get my bearings. So I do what many people do—dive into work; burying myself so deep in finding solutions to every problem I encounter that I don't have the "time" or the "energy" to figure out what I need. Twin this with the fact that a core part of my identity is my work/work ethic and you've got yourself a cocktail of excessively productive self-destruction.

So I booked a one-way ticket to Asia.

I met a friend to say goodbye to her today, and the entire time, all I could think of was projects we could work on, how I could help her write/edit/showcase her work. But I don't think I spent the time I needed on the casual? The "chit-chat." Ergh. I hate it. Awful, forsaken nonsense from the depths of hell, and yet something I need to learn how to do.

So here's my challenge to myself: No working. No projects. No desperation to do something or fill a void. No jobs for the sake of jobs. No multi-projects burning me out. No 22-hour work days. No all nighters. No shoots. No filming. No production.

I will take this time to go to a faraway land and just be. Just learn about where I'm going. I will not fix it. Or save anything. I will watch, and listen, and try to understand.

I sound super chill. But I am terrified. There is a huge part of me (the part with the mental health issues) that doesn't think I can do this. That part of me is very, very real. It's reminding me of all the times I've been broken and have had to crawl home, or tumbled back into manic/depressive states, reminding me that my self harming past is not ancient history yet. It's showing me all those moments, one after the other, and asking me the same question: "What will you do when you're on your own? When you have no safety net? No one who will help?" That part of me is getting louder every moment. Every passing second tightening it's grip on my core.

But it's not overwhelming me yet. Because as much as I am afraid, my fear is well-founded; I have good reason to be scared. I know what I've been through. I'm not irrational, I'm doing something huge, something, six years ago, my doctors wouldn't have been able to even entertain the idea of. But I can do it. And as I walked through security, I was reminded of my dreams to travel, to learn, to see the world.

I know quitting your job is drastic. I know giving up your security, and to be honest, part of my identity, could be cause for alarm. And I can't even begin to know what I'm going to arrive back to.

But I'm going. Right after I finish this cup of tea.