A year and a half ago, I quit my job. I felt burned out and disillusioned and was just fed up with inadequacy. My own, my boss’, the system’s. Inadequacy and incompetence. It kept echoing in my mind; we’re not doing enough and we’re not good enough at what we’re doing.

I’ve been a social worker for 12 years and worked with both young and adults, refugees in crisis, people with psychiatric problems, substance abuse – all of it. It has been hard at times, but always meaningful. Somehow the sense of meaning drowned. For a while all I could see was the flaws, and honestly it broke my heart that we weren’t working harder to fix them. But talking to coworkers I realized that they were all okay. They were aware of what wasn’t working, but they had a “well, I’m doing the best I can while I’m here and I’m okay with it not being good enough” attitude. I wasn’t okay. So, after a lot of thinking and feeling, I quit.

I was going to give myself some time to refocus and figure out what this new life of mine was going to look like. Naively I thought it would take a few months. Ha! What actually happened was a long period of letting go. I had been involved in an organization and even worked as an ambassador for a few years, but I realized that our values were no longer aligned, so after another round of deep thinking and feeling, I resigned that as well. A few friendships that had meant a lot to me also ended; some because I let go, some because I was let go.

Throughout the process, three major themes have been in play; security, identity and belonging. How will I get by without a steady paycheck? Who am I if I’m not a social worker or an ambassador? Where do I belong, if no longer within these communities? I think anyone who’ve grabbled with just one of these themes will agree that it can be a heavy load, shaking your core beliefs about yourself, the world, life.

Truth be told, for long stretches it hasn’t been pretty, but as a constant undercurrent to all the grief (all the stages, several times over) I’ve been struggling with, it’s also felt important on an existential level. Who am I when I strip away everything?

As it turns out, I’m someone who underneath all the fear and doubt actually trusts that I’ll be able to deal with whatever occurs – and that the entire universe is backing me on this. My identity is tied to my values. When I compromise my values because I’m afraid of losing status or friends or money, I suffer. And finally, maybe I shouldn’t limit my sense of belonging to any specific profession or community. Maybe I can nurture the feeling that I belong wherever I am.  

What this new life of mine is going to look like, is still not clear although it’s definitely less blurry than last year. I love writing, traveling, learning new things, and I love connecting with people. That’s four essential pieces of the puzzle. Along the way I’ll figure out how to put them together. This site is one way.