You Should Quit…Something Every Two Years

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I’m in my mid thirties and I’ve quit my job at least every 2 years since leaving college.

This constant job upheaval was not just because of a deep rooted dissatisfaction from working toward someone else’s dream but also because I believe that making a major life change often has massive positive outcomes.

I must state for the record that I am also the person who has a very difficult time making big changes. I love the effect they have on me but the are brutal to initiate.

As a senior in high school I resisted doing college visits because I was afraid of change and I was one of those few kids who actually had a blast in high school. Once I made the jump to college, I did not look back and could not imagine still being in high school.

I made one of those big jumps from the known and comfortable to the new and unknown.

I recently left my very first office space which I had occupied just about every day for the past three and half years. I use the term “office space” loosely as often times it was much more like a fraternity than office space. It was approximately 1200 square feet complete with a full bar, deer head, pool table and a small jailed window that allowed a small peak to the outside world.

It was home. I would often show up between 5am and 7 and leave between 10pm to 1am. I spent so much time here that my electric bill one November for my apartment was $11.

My home was in the basement and everyone knew it.

If you wanted to find me Monday through Sunday you could peep in the window and yell at me to let you in. This underground cave was my domain and I was struggling every day to build my future from below ground. I dreamed of building a massively successful company and moving on to the next greatest thing.

During these gloriously difficult three years I had not realized how much of my identity was wrapped into the physical space. I desperately wanted to have the success to validate moving out of the space but deep down loved what the basement had given to me.

Events that took place during the end of 2014 forced me to give up the space. Leaving the basement one late night in January, with the lights off, and just the empty shadows left, I realized that part of my dream was dead. I cried. There is an innocence that will forever exist in that basement that I will never be able to buy with any sum of money.

It was time to make a leap, it was time for massive positive change. I took one more giant breath, inhaling all the smells of innocence that masked it’s self in a sent of moldy beer.

Whether I was ready or not, it was time to step out of the basement and start building above ground.

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