The joy of quitting

Having been told her whole life that leaving is for losers, Alex Holder gave up her high-flying job and realised that, actually, it was the most empowering thing she had ever done

How giving up your job could be your best career move yet.

Itook inspiration from Zayn Malik on the day he said goodbye to One Direction. I sat with my business partner in the park opposite our office, said the words “I’m leaving” and cried. I was quitting my dream job – or at least, what had once been my dream job. The one I’d gone through eight rounds of interviews to get. I was partner in an amazing advertising agency; one I’d admired for so long. Loads of people wanted that job, I’d got it, and now I was giving it up. And there you have it, my proudest career moment to date: the day I quit.

When I’d left the house that morning, I hadn’t known that, by the end of the day, I wouldn’t have a salary or, gulp, an answer to the question, “So, what do you do?” I had to ring my boyfriend and confess, “Er, I quit my job today.” Did I mention our 11-month-old son, our mortgage, my ego? Oh, and by no means were we prepared financially; there was enough money to last six weeks, maybe eight. But when I got into bed that night, I felt an elation that only comes from an act of bravery.

I was always taught that quitting was for losers, so throughout my life I’d made sure I wasn’t one of them. I stayed with the boy I lost my virginity to for seven years. I ran marathons, once with cystitis. If I started a book, I finished it, even when I misguidedly picked up Ulysses. I spent a relentless decade working my way to the top of my career. I was not a quitter. Then, with two words, suddenly I was.

What I had mistaken for ambition and conviction was actually fear. I told myself I was happy enough. I had the house, the partner, the baby, the job. This is what adults do, isn’t it? They forsake fun for security. I regarded freelancers, part-timers and anyone who didn’t go into an office every day with jealousy and confusion. I stayed put, not because I loved my job, but because I was too scared to leave.

I describe how I felt to behavioural psychologist Michael Guttridge, who immediately diagnoses impostor syndrome. “It’s the persistent fear you’ll be exposed as a fraud,” he explains. “Our society’s bias – that women aren’t as competent as men – means more women suffer from it.” His words ring true: I felt I was just getting away with keeping the job I had. I worked ridiculous hours to prove I was good enough; I was that person, the one sending 3am emails. I was scared that quitting would confirm what everyone already knew – that I was useless. In her book The Secret Thoughts

Of Successful Women, Dr Valerie Young articulates my thoughts perfectly: “You feel as if you’ve flown under the radar, been lucky or they just like you.”

Before quitting my job, I’d hit a real confidence low at work and had sought the help of life coach Tania Keeling. In our first session she said, “Imagine someone is giving a speech about you in 20 years’ time: what do you want them to say?” The speech I conjured talked of my brilliance as a mother and friend, and praised me for my creativity and spirit of adventure – not once was my job in an ad agency mentioned. And that was my first breakthrough: I was putting all my energy into a job that, in the wider context of my life, wasn’t important. Looking back, I ask Guttridge what it was about projecting into the future that gave me such clarity: “By seeing yourself from a distance, it removes the emotion from the situation; it can also help if you imagine a friend in the same position and the advice you would give them.” And actually, my friends and family had tried to tell me my job wasn’t what defined me, and it certainly wasn’t worth the stress it brought to my life.

Gradually, I began to realise that quitting wasn’t failing. It would mean I believed in myself. “It’s about making choices and not sleepwalking through life,” says Guttridge. “It’s checking in with yourself and asking, ‘Do I really enjoy this?’ and ‘Is this what I want?’ Life is too short to plod through years in a job or a relationship that’s so-so.” At one point he shouts, “Wake up! Live!

“I TOLD MYSELF I WAS HAPPY ENOUGH. I HAD THE HOUSE, THE PARTNER, THE BABY, THE JOB. THIS IS WHAT ADULTS DO – FORSAKE FUN FOR SECURITY. I STAYED PUT, NOT BECAUSE I LOVED MY JOB, BUT BECAUSE I WAS SCARED TO LEAVE”

Don’t spend your life on autopilot!” I get it; I too want everyone to understand the power of quitting. Remember when Miranda in Sex And The City struck upon the wisdom of “He’s just not that into you” and couldn’t help telling strangers in the street? I’m Miranda on a mission and can’t stop talking about how good it felt to quit. It’s not that I want everyone to quit; I just want them to know they can. Even Guttridge advises against quitting too many things at once. “Change is hard, so don’t quit your job, your relationship and move house all at once,” he says. “Pick your battle – ask yourself what would make the biggest difference to your life right now.”

Feminist icon Gloria Steinem got it right when she said, “I got rid of the myth that we’re supposed to grow up and settle down – [that] those two things go together.” Ever the pioneer, her realisation follows an experience in the ’50s, when she found herself engaged to a man she didn’t want to spend the rest of her life with, then pregnant with his child. She ended the engagement, had an abortion, went travelling to India and became the heralded political activist we know now. That was some serious quitting! But if anyone can break Guttridge’s rule of not ending everything at once, it’s Steinem. At a time when many women were giving up autonomy over their lives, she took control of hers and inspired a generation.

I still regret not quitting my childhood sweetheart earlier. I stayed with him from my 16th birthday until the age of 22 because I hadn’t worked out that, sometimes, for all the right reasons, relationships end. We met in our local club, where he bought me a shot, paid for in 20-cent pieces. I was completely charmed. Fast-forward four years: we had opposing political views, our sex life had