Dear friends, welcome to Ad Astra. It’s so good to have you here and thank you to everyone who’s joined us since last week.
We’re two months into this newsletter journey! It makes me so happy sharing everything I know on the subjects of creativity, pursuing your dreams, becoming a professional storyteller, and living boldly — thank you for giving me this opportunity, for tuning in, and for providing such kind feedback.
Today I’d like to dig into a subject that seems to be quite popular with many of you: quitting your job and taking a plunge into living your life a little bit — or a lot — differently.
I’m going to share with you the exact path I took to get where I am today. I hope that it inspires you to make some changes or start making plans to change your life for the better.
First, a little bit of housekeeping. I got a new, better microphone, so if you prefer hearing stories rather than reading them, check out the audio file. (It should be much better than when we first started!)
Today’s issue is a bit longer than usual. Alas, quitting a job is a big topic.
Alright, let’s get started.
Part I. The Breakdown.
In the Fall of 2015, I was miserable. By all external marks, I had “made it.” I was a brand manager in a top global corporation. I earned a six-figure salary and rented a beautiful apartment on Upper West Side in Manhattan, a dream come true.
But every night as I came home from work (usually around 9 or 10 in the evening), I cried in my pillow. I worked all my waking hours, nights and weekends too. Most of the time, I felt like a zombie, tied to my laptop, praying to the holy trinity of the early twenty-first century — Email, Powerpoint, Excel.
I felt like I had no right to feel bad about my predicament. Yes, many people don’t enjoy what they do, but that’s why it’s called a job, right? And wasn’t I living in the best city in the world? And what if all I saw of it was a rush-hour subway disaster? And what about all that money I was making, the first in my family to ever do so?
I was an immigrant coming from a poor background and it was especially difficult for me to admit that the summit I’ve reached, with my MBA and a cushy salary and stock options and a nice title, turned out to be full of empty words.
So I drudged on, dying a little inside every day. I kept telling myself all the things we tell ourselves to get through our work week. I lived in a constant state of slumber, barely waking up on the weekends, only to return to the dead zone come Monday.
Honestly, I was a wreck.
I saw no value in the job I was doing (“hey, let’s sell another widget to consumers #becausecapitalism makes the world go round!”) and I didn’t know how to get out. Worse, days turned into weeks, weeks turned into years, and a sinking feeling was filling me up with cold sweat: this could be it. This could be my life.
The status quo would probably go on forever… but the absurdity of it finally got to me. I started having issues with my back, no longer able to sit at my desk in the office. My body was smarter than I was and it began giving me signs that something had to change.
Looking back now, it seems as if everything that happened to me that fall was smartly designed by the universe. As my back gave in and I reached burnout, the brand I was responsible for hit rock bottom after years of sales declines. Then one day, just like that, I found myself no longer employed by the company I worked for.
This was my ticket out. I could chalk it up to ‘bad cultural fit’ and get right back into the game. My new gig was only a recruiter’s call away.
But I didn’t call a recruiter. Instead, I decided to use this as an opportunity to explore what else in life is out there.
Insights for you:
I realize that unless I reached this very low point, I probably would not have made this jump. That’s just the reality of how humans behave. We avoid risk at all costs, even if the “safer” status quo is really bad for us.
What can you do with this knowledge?
First, don’t wait till you reach a low point. If you have any inklings telling you that your current job or the way you’re living is not working for you, start looking for ways to explore other modes of living and working while keeping your day job. For example, see if you can arrange a sabbatical at your company before you reach the point where drastic measures are needed.
Second, you need a rainy day fund. There’s just no getting around that. You can make this calculation on a napkin right now. How much money do you need each month to a) pay all your bills and b) have sustenance? Multiply that by six, or better yet, twelve. That’s your very minimal rainy day fund (I like to call it the screw-it-all fund). Even if you are living paycheck to paycheck, you can save up for this fund by giving up all but the absolutely necessary expenses. You’d be surprised to see how much all our lattes and Netflix and wine bar outings add up.
Making changes in life often amounts to what we are willing to give up in order to reach our vision. If you’re not willing to give up your comforts, that’s totally fine — it just means that your idea of quitting a job is more of a nice thing to think about rather than an action you truly want to implement.
Part II. Freedom.
I was free! For the first time in years, I had no job to worry about, no manager to keep accountable to, no mountains of emails to sift through. Nothing!
It was an exhilarating time.
Because I was miserable in my corporate jobs pretty much as soon as I graduated with an MBA (read: I entertained my escape plan for years), I knew what I would do next. I’d go around the world for six months, decompressing, processing what had happened, and deciding what to do next.
That’s exactly what I did.
In January of 2016, I flew to Thailand. I spent a month biking through Chiang Mai, Bangkok, Koh Yao Noi, and everywhere in between.
I lived in Vietnam in February, traveling from Saigon to Hanoi by train and rejoicing in $1 phở bò and phở gà noodle bowls on the streets.
I then crossed over to Turkey and spent one month in a cozy apartment in Istanbul’s Cihangir, a neighborhood minutes away from Galata Tower. This was a dream come true as I’ve always wanted to rent a flat in Istanbul, the city my soul is from.
In April, I ate pizza at a small eatery in Rome.
In May, I floated on the soft waves of the Aegean Sea while staying at a luxury resort in Crete (and yes, pampering myself after ‘roughing it’ for months was part of the plan).
In June, I returned to the United States. It was now time to figure out what my next step should be.
Insights for you:
The freedom phase should take as long as you (and your screw-it-all fund) would allow. My original goal with this phase was to figure out what I should do next. I learned instead that my first priority should be recuperation. For these six months, I didn’t do anything but travel, eat, sleep, swim, explore, relax, repeat. I felt guilty about it at first, but after a while, I got used to it! I also realized that this period was necessary for me to recharge my batteries.
Try selecting places where your resources would go the farthest. That was partly why my route took me to Southeast Asia and Turkey, for example. I spent very little on food and accommodations for most of my six-month trip: it is possible to do this without breaking the bank.
Part III. The Rising (aka Figuring Out).
I believe that many of us have got it all wrong about the way we live.
Somewhere around the Industrial Revolution and the birth of capitalism, the western world has become obsessed with this idea of productivity and never-ending growth.
If you’re standing in one place, you’re already behind. If you’re not working or putting in 80-hour weeks, you’re failing. If you’re not doing anything, you’re not worth anything.
Even writing these lines right now gives me anxiety.
Whose idea was it that this is a path toward a good life?
The biggest benefit of my six-month freedom trip was a quiet realization that a different way to live is possible.
I started doubting all the concepts societies feed us from an early age. I began the painstaking process of shedding my old systems of thinking.
I realized that job security was a myth, perpetuated in order to keep societies stable. In what sense? Until you’re a useful cog in the machine, you’re ok. But never mistake that for genuine care. Corporations were not designed for care. They were designed for profit.
(Just ask me about a friend of mine who loyally served one very large financial corporation for years, only to be forced to uproot his whole life in the US after one bad review because he “had no champion” in the organization and the corporation would no longer sponsor his US work visa.)
Our systems teach us to follow the rules. Go to this school, get that job, start a family, and then you'll be a functioning and a deserving member of the society (particularly for women, real stigma still exists on many of these life choices).
For centuries, this system has worked well for controlling societies, but it is a recipe for a limited life: limited in what we can create because the system doesn’t reward the rebels who go outside its boundaries.
Upon my return to the United States, I knew that what I’m after — freedom of working from anywhere, independence, working for myself, entrepreneurship, creative life, freelancing — is a difficult road. There aren’t many rules and there isn’t a blueprint, similar to the one we’re given in our traditional societal structures, to follow.
I asked myself: “Am I ready for this road or should I ‘come to my senses’ now and return to corporate?”
For me, the answer was clear. Once I have experienced the freedom of only working on projects that light my fire, once I have tasted what it feels like to live a creative life, I could not return to the old way of being.
Go and make interesting mistakes, make amazing mistakes, make glorious and fantastic mistakes. Break rules. Leave the world more interesting for your being here. Make. Good. Art.
— my favorite rebel, Neil Gaiman
So, little by little, I started. I began figuring it out.
I started developing relationships in the travel media industry. I started reaching out to outlets and publishing my stories. These efforts were haphazard at first; I was poking around in the dark.
But this is where human ingenuity comes into play.
I believe that once we begin to move in the direction of our dreams, the universe responds to our efforts. If you don’t like to call it the universe, call it good luck, or hard work paying off, or anything else. But efforts matter. Intent matters. Taking steps toward your vision matters.
One of my dream magazines, Afar, published my first story about a year after I left corporate. From there, my efforts grew like a snowball, culminating in my images and words finding a home on the pages of National Geographic last year.
Since I left corporate, I never once regretted my decision.
There have been doubts and fears but never regret. I’ve been on some amazing assignments in places like Mongolia, China, and Rwanda, created work I’m proud of, and launched a travel company.
If it sounds like I have it all figured out, rest assured: I don't. After all, I am only human. But there is one thing I know for sure — you will never know what life you’re capable of living until you start taking steps toward it.
Insights for you:
The first principle is to act. So many people stay in the ‘what if’ zone, but until you start acting, nothing will happen.
Sometimes, you have to act really quickly.
Case in point: the same week I returned from my trip, I found out about a conference happening a few hours away from me. I learned that a man I’ve been trying to get in touch with — an editor at the Turkish Airlines in-flight magazine, Skylife — would be in attendance. This was a Tuesday and the conference was starting that weekend. In a matter of half a workday, I ordered myself some business cards and booked a rental car and an Airbnb. A few days later, I was on my way to the conference. I attended the session this man gave, stayed after he wrapped up, introduced myself, explained my connection to Turkey, and exchanged business cards (yay for overnight shipping!). Months later, my first story in Skylife was published and I’ve since published many more. Sometimes, you just have to act.
The second principle is patience. There is a reason most people never take the leap. There is a reason many businesses fail. It’s really hard to make a living on your own or start a new business and make it successful. If you have the patience and the stamina to bear instability, insecurity, financial worry, self-doubt and still keep going, then it is possible!
Time is your enemy here but it is also your friend. There is no way I would know four years ago what I know now. The knowledge comes from experience and from living through this journey every day.
And finally, the principle that is the most important — and also the most nebulous — is daily work on yourself.
What do I mean by that?
Some time ago, I was fortunate enough to be in a room full of founders, entrepreneurs, inspiring and successful people. Looking across the table, I realized that I didn’t see many people like me. Women. Veterans. Immigrants. People from disadvantaged socioeconomic backgrounds.
When I was growing up, nobody told me that I could be anything I wanted to be in this world. Nobody took me to piano lessons, and advanced computer labs, and soccer practices after school. I didn’t grow up in Silicon Valley, with a two-parent family, middle-class income.
I’m not saying this to justify the reason Mark, and not I, became a multi-billionaire founder of Facebook.
I am saying this to highlight that in life, many of us around the world don’t start at the same line. We start way, way back behind the start line. And when we do show up in those rooms, it’s a testament to the daily work we perform to overcome the struggles and challenges that could be a novelty to someone who’s never had to feel like “the other” or worry about their mom working too many jobs.
So in order to keep changing the appearance of those rooms, all of us have to do the work we feel called to do.
For me, that meant quitting my brand manager job and becoming a travel photographer, writer, and entrepreneur. It meant taking risks, making mistakes, acting, and believing that what I want is possible. It meant stepping forward and trusting that a path would appear where I step (hint: it always does).
What does that mean for you?
Onwards!
Yulia
P.S. Here are the discussions you might have missed: taming self-doubt, rethinking your relationship with money, and working through fear with a worst-case scenario exercise.
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P.P.S. I launched a course for aspiring travel photographers and writers! Get details here.
Issue #9: Quit Your Job. Travel The World. Never Look Back.