Your Next Chapter Isn’t Selfish

Why Letting Go of a “Good Job” Might Be the Smartest Thing You Do

These five words could be the hardest you say in your career:
“I think I’m done here.”

You’ve got the role you worked hard for. You’re good at it. People respect you. It used to be thrilling, but now it pays the bills. It’s fine. And yet… you’re exhausted. Uninspired. Quietly, deeply ready for something else.

But instead of taking action, you start the spiral:

“Other people would kill for this job.”
“I should just be grateful.”
“This is what I worked so hard for—I can’t throw it away.”

If this sounds familiar, I want to say something to you clearly: You’re allowed to want more.

Good at It ≠ Meant to Keep Doing It

I’ll never forget this quote from a very unlikely source: Center Stage, the deeply 90s ballet movie filled with plot holes and terrible acting (and also, a very young Zoe Saldaña).

At the end of the film, a character who’s been the top ballerina—fiercely driven, endlessly pushed by her mother—quits. When asked why, she says:

“That’s what ballet would be for me. A life of wishing I’d found something I really loved instead of something I just happened to do well.”

I think about that line all the time.
Because I’ve lived it.
And I coach women through it every week.

We stay because we’re good at it.
We stay because we’re needed.
We stay because we’re respected—because we built the role, the team, the reputation.

And we stay even when we’re burning out, even when the voice in our head is screaming, “You don’t want to do this anymore.”

It’s Not a Lack of Gratitude. It’s a Spark of Self-Awareness.

Wanting something new doesn’t mean you’re ungrateful. It means you’re listening.

But if you’re a woman, especially one socialized to prioritize other people’s needs, that desire often gets buried under guilt. We’re taught to be grateful. To take care of the team. To stay safe. To put purpose before ourselves. So we start to believe that leaving is selfish.

But the truth?
Staying stuck doesn’t make you noble. It just makes you stuck.

From Spiral to Spark: The Day I Said It Out Loud

I remember the exact moment I said it. I was sitting on my front steps, talking to my best friend on the phone after a brutal day at work. I was mid-rant when the words slipped out:

“I don’t think I want to do this anymore.”

I didn’t plan to say it. I didn’t even know I felt it. But once the words came, something inside me exhaled. For the first time in months—maybe years—I felt a tiny bit lighter.

And then?
Guilt.
Fear.
Denial.

I buried it. And I stayed four more years.

I got good at pretending I was fine. Until I wasn’t. Until I felt like one of those shriveled-up poor unfortunate soul mermaids in The Little Mermaid (IYKYK).

Who Benefits From Your Burnout?

Let me ask you something:
If you’re underpaid, under-supported, and overworked… who is that actually helping?

Not you. Not your family. And honestly? Probably not your workplace either. Because eventually, you’ll burn out—and then no one wins.

The people most afraid of being selfish are often the same people giving way more than they’re getting back.

Want a Place to Start?

Here’s something I teach in my Start Anyway workshop:

Grab a pen and a notebook, find a quiet place, and finish this sentence:

“If I gave myself permission, I would…”

Don’t overthink it. Don’t edit. Don’t worry about what it sounds like. Just write. Then take a break until tomorrow, when you do it again. Repeat until necessary — the answer gets clearer every time.

When you land on something true? Take the tiniest step toward it. Not the leap—just a toe in the water.

Want to become a full-time artist? DM someone who is. Dream of running a goat farm and making artisanal goat cheese? Read a book on animal husbandry. Wish you could move across the country? Look up cities and rental prices.

You’re not required to upend your life tomorrow. But you are allowed to want something else. And to start making moves toward it—even slowly.

Your Next Chapter Is Not Selfish

It’s self-aware. It’s brave. It’s necessary.

Growth doesn’t always look like climbing higher.
Sometimes, it looks like stepping off the ladder entirely.

And if that’s you? Welcome. You’re not alone.

Ready to Take the First Step?

Join the list to hear when the next Start Anyway workshop opens. It’s designed to help you take action—even if you’re scared, even if you’re unsure, even if your plan isn’t perfect.