Signed and Resigned

I just need enough to be solvent, but that may be hard without rescinding this letter and sacrificing my sanity

To those reading my resignation while casually pushing policies that are supposed to impact our work culture, but they never do, I hope you find this letter. I seriously hope that after finding this letter you read it too.

So here it is. I give up!

I am done with this 9-to-5 grind' business! It just ain't for me. Please don't get me wrong I'm not quitting my job. Not at all!

I'm just refusing to let this job define me anymore. I don't dream about laboring around, but I also don't consider myself lazy. I resent the allegation!

The truth of the matter is, you don't get to choose your "parcel of land" in life, but even with no land to land on I'll still be damned if I settle for fifth-grade existence just because I am pre-destined to be poor as land has since become a scarce commodity.

No, to me this gesture, is more about quitting my job; it's about redefining what success and fulfillment mean in a world that commodifies every aspect of our existence.

It is not a moral failure - if it whose failure is it - when working multiple jobs, fighting to survive, and sacrificing self-care becomes the only way to get by in a world that demands so much yet gives so little in return.

How can we, as a society claim that we aren't flawed? Is it not that the simple and fundamental truth of any society being that it has a moral imperative to support its members? The existence of poverty on such a large scale today shows that we have not only failed one another but also lost the appetite to address it.

When and how did we end up accepting the rugged individualism as a societal norm?

The joy of living should never come at a cost - not to yourself, not to others. We’ve turned survival into a transaction, slicing away at the very roots that sustain us, daring nature to exact its revenge.

I am done pretending the 'grind' is noble, done ignoring the hollow distraction it provides, done acting like this endless 'grind' doesn't kill. It does. It drains us, devours us, and leaves the earth bleeding in its wake.

Our time here is fleeting, a fragile spark in the vastness. Why waste it chasing illusions? Love should be our only currency - not crumpled bills, cold coins, or the fumes of dying fossil fuels.

I’m done dragging the weight of work home with me, done letting rest slip through my fingers like sand. Rest is hard to come by when the pressure to succeed builds like a storm cloud over my head, and I refuse to let it break me. If a job demands my time beyond the clock, it’s not a job - it’s a prison. And I won’t serve that sentence anymore. If that means walking away, then so be it.

And so, I give up. Not in defeat, but in defiance. I give up on the lie that I have to carry this burden alone. I give up on the myth that my worth is tied to my productivity. I give up on the system that feeds on our exhaustion and calls it ambition. I give up on rising again.

So yes, I give up. I remove myself. I quit. I object. I abstain. However, you want to frame it is fine by me but understand that you will not get another lick of labor out of me that isn't consented to, thoroughly enjoyed before promptly being forgotten, and well-compensated with a livable wage.

Consider this my two-day notice. I quit... To-day.

Goodbye!

Truly Yours,

Narghiza Ergashova

[This is of course fiction. What did you have to give up recently to regain your worth?]

Your thoughts on the matter?

Truly Yours,

Narghiza Ergashova