A few days ago, I quit my job.

I’ve debated about whether I should address this issue on my blog. It seems unprofessional to say anything about my office job online. But I’ve never mentioned on here or on social media where I’ve worked for the past couple months, so I don’t think I’m being unethical.

Since August, I’ve been a receptionist in an office with a poisonous environment. The bosses were terrible communicators, which caused a ripple effect. As a result, I had trouble understanding which tasks they wanted me to prioritize.

When I signed on, there were seven salaried employees. By the time I left two months later, four of them had quit with no warning, and one had told me she was seriously considering leaving. Some of them said they didn’t want to talk to the bosses about why they were unhappy at the job, because they hated talking to the bosses. They considered them unreasonable and mean.

Finally, I quit too. I wanted to leave on good terms, but that didn’t happen. Because, honestly … the bosses were unreasonable and mean. In my opinion. To give you an idea of how the conversation went, when I left, the owner yelled at me, “YOU’RE VENOMOUS!” Which was actually kind of funny. Calm down, dude.

It was the first time I’ve ever left a job on bad terms with my employers. And that hurt. I’ve always taken pride in being a model employee, regardless of what the job is. I’ve never been fired. I’ve left jobs because I was graduating college or moving to a new city, but this is only the second I’ve ever truly quit. I’m one of those people who likes working.

But I don’t regret leaving.

On my blogs over the years, I’ve been open about my anxiety problems, which I started taking medicine for a couple years ago. (Wow, has it already been two years?)

The medicine really helped me gain control over my life. But since I moved back to America from China, it’s spiked again, even though I’ve stayed on my medicine. Even worse, I’ve had my first real experiences with depression. To put it lightly, I do not care for being depressed. It’s … terrible.

This job was contributing to my anxiety, because it was the most dramatic place I’ve ever worked. And as the receptionist, I had a front seat to all the drama. Even worse, a huge part of my job was to deal with all this drama.

The job was also contributing to my depression, because I hated, truly hated, working there. I woke up every day thinking about how I didn’t want to go to this job. But I needed the money.

So I quit, mainly for my own sanity.

You know what else I’m doing for my own sanity? I’m getting a dog. I used to scoff at people who got dogs to deal with their anxiety. That didn’t seem like a real thing. But as time has gone on, I’ve started to understand it. So, yeah, I’m getting an adorable puppy named Tuna.

I’ve also changed my medication. It’s already started to make a difference, after only a couple weeks.

I was already exercising four or five times per week, but I’ve taken on a new mindset. Instead of exercising to lose weight or achieve a specific goal, I’m focusing on simply exercising for my mental health. Exercise is proven to help fight depression. Honestly, changing my mindset about why I work out has kept me more motivated to do so.

All that to say … let’s do what it takes to take care of ourselves. 

Whether you’re fighting anxiety and depression like me, or you have something else going on entirely, let’s take steps to take care of ourselves.

More posts about self care:

Becoming an Adult is Taking a Mental Toll on Me

Travel Less Often, More Meaningfully

Why We Should Travel Alone