I quit, yo.
Okay, so maybe I didn't actually use any of those words except the first one in my resignation, but trust me, the sentiment got across. People keep asking me how I feel, and to be honest, it feels the same. I should feel terrified (because I don't have another job lined up), excited (because the future is unknown), and relieved (because I've been wanting to do this for a long time). But so far I just feel like I'm still going to work each day and still have a steady paycheck for the next two-ish weeks. So, normal.
Deep down, though, where all of my secret thoughts are stored--to only be released when I write, because otherwise the words just don't come--I'm ecstatic. A part of my heart that's been dead for five years, or at the very least in hibernation, is stirring. It's about to come alive (or wake up...I really should have stuck to one metaphor) and it is terrifying and exciting and relieving.
For the next few days, when I think about what I've accomplished, well, I don't even have to think. I quit, yo. These three little words are huge.
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