Quit my job8/2/2023 ![]() ![]() My entire generation is burned out, rooted in fallout from the 2008 recession, our addiction to the attention economy, and this polarized political climate. ![]() But I am not alone in feeling my mental health suffering. ![]() Looking back, I wonder: Was that the time to take a break? Even if it meant risking advancement? Or was the time in 2016, when I first started working in news, right before the chaos of the presidential election? Before my job evolved into seemingly constant coverage of every mass shooting as it unfolded, starting with the Pulse massacre? Should I have taken off more than a week between two high-pressure jobs in a media industry rife with layoffs, leadership changes, and scandals? How about after graduating college in 2011, before immediately moving to New York to job hunt? When was the right time to take a break? When is it ever? Quitting was never an option-until it became the only option. I dismissed therapy as requiring too much time and money, and if my colleagues appeared able to withstand the pressure, why couldn’t I? Instead of seeking help, I spent a long evening at an October wedding hidden in a back room, sobbing for hours into my best friend’s shoulder for reasons I couldn’t clearly articulate.Ī month after the wedding, I was promoted to direct a new team, and my responsibilities doubled. My dreams were plagued with AR-15s and leering men, and still I declined to deal with my health and fatigue. White supremacists descended on Charlottesville a silent gunman opened fire on a Las Vegas concert millions of women, myself included, shared intimate accounts of sexual harassment and assault. It showed that I couldn’t handle hard work, city life, or being an adult that everyone else, as social media proved, was stronger, happier, and more successful than me.Īfter the bruises healed during a brief medical leave, after I’d ordered a tiny gold medical bracelet engraved with a diagnosis of epilepsy, most likely stress-induced, I went back to work.Ĭurrent events grew bleaker, and so did my mental health as I stayed on the digital front line of every story. Not having a job, in my mind, equated failure. I feared losing health insurance, but mostly I feared losing the security of a title and a salary. Perhaps the concussion and black eye should have been a wake-up call to slow down. ![]()
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