A week ago, I started the next chapter of my career. Three weeks before that, I chose to return to a life as a full-time freelance editor and writer, turning in my notice to resign from what some would call a comfortable position and choosing instead to find contract work on my own.
Don’t get me wrong: On a scale from 1 to Nightmare, my job as a Marketing manager at a nonprofit association was no slumber party on Elm Street. But it wasn’t serving me, or my health, either.
In my nine months behind that desk, I regained 25 lbs. I lost serious stamina, as evidenced by my half-hour slide in half-marathon time last winter. I slept poorly, I ate poorly. My allergies became almost as bad as they were on the East coast. I visited the doctor half a dozen times — more than I had since I took control of my health five years ago. I’d seen this decline before, and I couldn’t ignore the signs: Working in an office was killing me. Again.
So, I’ve decided to do what I must to regain my health. In my first week of not being in an office, I’ve slept better than I have since moving to the SoCal coast. I’ve eaten better, worked out more consistently and felt better overall than I could ever have expected.
Is the uncertainty stressful? Certainly. Is money a concern? Of course. But you know what? I’m ok with that uncertainty, as long as my health is certain.