That Pivotal Moment When I Decided to Quit my 9-5
These moments are markers in our lives. For me, it was the beginning of a spiritual awakening.
I will never forget that moment. The piercing, almost evil look in her eyes.
“No, you can’t go pick up your son,” she said, without skipping a beat, with no emotion and not even a blink.
I stared at her in disbelief, and it took everything in me not to tell my boss exactly what I thought about her. It took even more not to throw a punch.
I felt anger begin to boil up inside me. It was a culmination of long-standing frustration with my job, obvious personality conflicts between me and a power-tripping boss, and a sense that something wasn’t right, and something had to change.
Instead, I went back to my office, quietly packed up my things, locked the door behind me, and left the building.
“I will never let another human tell me how to, or when I can mother my children,” I muttered under my breath as I turned the keys in the ignition and slightly squealed my tires out the parking lot.
And that was the moment I knew I was done with the rat race.
It was 2018. I had recently returned to work after a one-year maternity leave after having my third, and final baby. I was just finally getting adjusted to the new staff that I would be leading, and the new organizational structure as the company had made some shifts internally among management. Cool. I had a new boss to report to.
It didn’t take me long to notice the dynamics between us didn’t jive well. I could tell that it felt threatening to her to allow me to have the authority that I did. And so she found other ways to reign power over me. I don’t know why, because she was the Director of the Retirement Home and was in charge of literally everything.
I was the Community Relations Director and I reported to her. It was my job to be front-facing for potential new residents and their families. I would tour them around the facility, have important meetings, develop a yearly marketing plan to bring awareness to the community, execute that plan, and host and sponsor internal and external events. I absolutely loved my job and was excited to return to work.
But something didn’t feel the same upon my return.
At that time, I was still silently suffering from postpartum depression. Maybe it was the aftermath of all the shame and guilt I felt from such a blurry postpartum. Managing a 12-year-old, a toddler, and a baby was overwhelming, and I couldn’t wait to get back to work to feel like I had some connection with the outside world.
But part of me wanted to stay and right the wrongs I felt I had made. I felt like I had rushed my kids through their childhood. So exhausted and distraught from the daily challenges of motherhood, I cried myself to sleep countless times.
And suddenly, they weren't with me anymore. Someone else was taking care of them. And I couldn’t get any of those moments back. The moments I wished I could fix, and the moments when they were in another person’s care.
And then there was the race to get out the door.
Dropping the kids off at daycare and school, barely taking the time for a kiss and a hug.
Leaving the house in what felt like complete chaos.
Getting to work late almost daily to a lineup of people at my office door.
The mess I came home to, with hardly any downtime to be with the kids.
The blur of it all.
This all contributed to an all-consuming distaste for showing up to my job. I felt, beneath the surface that I wasn’t showing up for my motherhood, and so showing up for work felt incredibly counterintuitive to me.
Maybe my boss was intuitively getting the nudge from my obvious lack of enthusiasm. In hindsight, maybe she was helping me get out. Giving me that final push that I needed.
Regardless, the Universe had it all planned out perfectly. And when I was finally ready to trust it, I took the leap of faith.
It wasn’t the first time I had to leave work to tend to my children. I couldn’t imagine ever having to choose work over my beloved kids. Those kids are and will always be my first priority.
My son was only 18 months old. It was the second time the daycare called me to tell me he was sick.
I politely stepped into my boss’s office to inform her I would have to leave.
I wanted to show up to my motherhood.
I will never forget the sacred rage that I felt move through my body, starting from my feet, and settling deep into my belly. It was like a blow to the stomach. A gut punch.
I couldn’t believe another woman had the gall to tell me I couldn’t tend to my children.
That was the moment I knew I was done.
This was also the beginning of my awakening and an accelerated, dedicated, and devoted spiritual journey. It was not long after when COVID took hold of the world and it was as if the Universe knew I couldn’t bear to work in those conditions. Retirement Homes in Canada had an awful experience.
This may have been the first time I had learned to really stand up for myself and for what I believed in. Thank goodness for the powerful lessons and the opportunity here.
It took me 7 months of planning and full support from my husband before I made the move.
I worked, unwillingly, but still to the best of my ability until we were financially stable enough for me to leave. The sense of freedom I felt when I handed in my resignation was thrilling.
I also felt nervous and frightened for the journey ahead. I had secured an evening job as an evening cleaner for a local janitorial company because it was important for me to still contribute financially, but I didn’t want to do the crazy morning rush anymore, I wanted to get my two older kids on the bus every day, I wanted to be there for school events, and I wanted to be home with my baby during the day.
As scary as it was, it was the best decision I ever made. I found the evening work to be incredibly soothing. I would throw on my headphones and listen to podcasts that left me little breadcrumbs about what I wanted to explore next.
It was a break from the mothering at home, which was nice. And I finally felt like I had some space to breathe. I felt like everyone could breathe.
From there, the rest is history — and it’s still being written.
I have learned to embrace every moment of the journey and feel excitement for the unknown that lies ahead.
I am not working as a janitor anymore, but I will attribute much of what I have learned about myself to that humbling role. It offered me the space to discover where I wanted to go next.
My husband and I started our own cleaning business that we still manage in Canada, all the way from Mexico. I discovered Kundalini Yoga and Ayurveda and went on a yearlong discovery of Divine Feminine teachings inside a Mystery School container.
Life continues to expand and evolve.
It’s not always easy. Being an entrepreneur is a challenge. But we’ve grown to embrace the challenges. They make us stronger. And it’s so exciting to wonder what’s next?
We get better with every fall that forces us back to our feet.
I will never forget that pivotal moment when another woman attempted to tell me how and when I could mother my children.
That pivotal moment when I decided I was done with the 9–5 grind.
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Wow Stephanie, this is such an awesome, heartfelt article! I'm a big believer that everything happens for a reason. And you have every right to want to spend more time with your children! Plus, I think having that janitorial job was a perfect transition. Sometimes you just need a peaceful job, like you said, to focus on what the next step is. Thank you for posting this Stephanie!
What a relatable story, as a mother with toddlers right now I could feel your emotions through this. Family should always be a priority I agree ❤️