The Pain of Breaking Up With Work
My story wasn’t so much #GreatResignation as #TheGreatRestructuring
For months I searched for why I never had the courage to quit a job that no longer served me creatively. Especially now that I know how much better it is to strike out on your own, even with the endless cycle of hard work and uncertainty.
I told myself I was lured by the comfort of a steady pay cheque and benefits. But that didn’t feel right.
I told myself I was too scared to look for work (especially during the pandemic). But that didn’t feel right either.
It wasn’t until I watched the three-part documentary The Beatles: Get Back that I found my answer.
I grew up in a Beatles house. Mom and Dad were fans growing up. And there was no shortage of documentaries chronicling their meteoric success and downfall. I had always associated the recording of the final album as the climax of their creative end.
I fully expected nine hours of Real Housewives-level fighting and bitchy asides.
What I got was an atmospheric exploration of how hard it is to let go of something that had once nurtured and supported the very thing that makes you happiest.
You and I have memories, longer than the road that stretches out ahead
— “Two of Us” by the Beatles
For the first time it struck me: the band started out as teenagers, playing at being rock stars. They fell into habits and a work ethic that took them to nightclubs in Berlin, dominating UK charts, then America, then the world.
By 1970, these same habits and work routines were weighed down by decades of what worked before. Safe, proven decisions that should, in theory, lead to future success.
And it froze members into roles they fell into as children. Roles that no longer fit men facing their 30’s — newly married with young children of their own.
Instead of fights and insults, the documentary footage serves up heartfelt conversations among band members. You see George Harrison quietly suggesting bringing in someone “like Billy Preston” to breathe new life into their sound. You hear Paul McCartney and John Lennon debate who should really be the leader of the band. And you see Ringo, patiently waiting for someone to give him something to put a beat to.
It’s hard to admit when the incubator you’ve relied on your whole creative life is no longer sustaining you. There’s real pain in looking around the room realizing, I no longer want this.
When I realized I had creatively outgrown my last job, I felt like I was betraying the same people who helped me develop and grow. For a time I thought I could pivot and be the creative incubator for others. But that wasn’t the right fit. Or at least, not in the confines of that creative project.
In the past year I have uncovered countless creative possibilities and outlets. All stemming from what I learned and discovered in my last job. They laid dormant as I cycled through my usual routines and roles. Now they’re at the forefront — alive and being tested in new ways every day.
You don’t always realize this when you’re languishing in a job that’s lost its spark. It’s not always fear holding you back, but the memory of what once was holding you in place.
When I lost my job earlier this year I thought it was the end of something. But it’s not really.
I’ve been able to continue my story telling skills and using them in new, exciting ways. I’m free to experiment with ideas in ways I couldn’t before.
The experiences and memories that have brought me here haven’t gone away. But they’re in the past. And now I’m free to pick and choose what memories to take with me on the road ahead.
