Today is technically my first day of unemployment. How do I feel? Honestly? I feel sick. Yes, it’s exciting to plan coffee dates and lunches and catch ups but at the same time my head is saying – and how do you intend to pay for all these dates?

Fashion Week was a blast, but it was also a welcome distraction. I didn’t have time to dwell on the fact that I no longer have a job or an income. There wasn’t the luxury of feeling sorry for myself. Today feels like that day. Yesterday it was funny. Today, it’s real.

I couldn’t sleep in – I felt like I was doing something wrong. So I got up, did a few loads of washing, changed the sheets and vaccuumed, then started on the computer, writing, applying for jobs and following up emails. It’s only 11.30am and I already feel like I have run out of things to do.

I desperately feel like watching DVDs, and I am wearing trackies (shh, don’t tell anyone in fashion!) but I feel a bit like I am cheating myself if I do. I should be calling everyone I have ever met in my entire life, asking for contacts and referrals, praying I will find a job that I love soon.

Then there is the fear of actually finding that job. What if I am no good at it? What if they don’t like me? What if, What if, What if? I know the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach is simply anxiety, desperate to be fed with my overactive imagination and the fear of the unknown but I have to remember why I decided to leave my job in the first place and what my ultimate goals are.

In case you didn’t see it, the article below is why. I wrote this shortly after I resigned and when I reread it, I remember why I am doing this. I remember the excitement I felt and the fear of the unknown being a good thing. So i’ll read it again. And maybe you will too.

This article first appeared for Onya Magazine.

Crunch time.

I hand over the letter, slightly shaking, terrified. The person across the table opens it with a knowing look on their face, reads the content and smiles a funny little smile, a knowing smile but a smile with disappointment behind it.

I have just quit my job. My steady, stable, well paid, close to home, flexible, source of main income, job. And I don’t have a job to go to.

I’ll pause here while you decide what to say. Do you cringe inside, smile and say, ‘Wow, that’s really brave!’ Or maybe I sense that hint of ‘Oh my god, what have you done?!’ Perhaps you know me well and your first reaction is to say ‘Congratulations!’

So, now that you have decided how you feel about my life changing decision, I have one question to ask you before I tell my story. Would you do it? Would you quit your job, with no job to go to, when you still have a mortgage, and rent, and bills and unexpected expenses? Think about that now, then assess it again after you finish reading. I wonder if you will feel the same way.

Three years ago I was eighteen months out of University, desperate to make my mark in the world and chomping at the bit to find a place to work that would provide me opportunities, support my beliefs and put an expensive education to good use. I applied for many, interviewed for few and finally was offered my current position.

I remember the interview well – my future boss said she liked my shoes and I knew I was in. I remember sitting in the interview, nervous beyond belief, telling her that I was looking for a company where I could move up, spend many years learning and grow with the business. It wasn’t until two years later she told me that she didn’t believe a word of it.

As a part of Generation Y, we don’t tend to stay in jobs the way our Baby Boomer parents did. My father has worked for the same company since he was 17, with the exception of a midlife crisis of about 12 months where he decided to be a builder – this was something that I aspired to do, (stay in a company for a long time, not be a builder) but have discovered is not the way my generation does business.

We like to be challenged, motivated and offered tasks with responsibility, encouraged and given opportunities to be creative.  Generation Y doesn’t care, to a point, how much they are paid. We want to make a contribution. We want to change the world.

After three years in my role, I feel I have learnt all there is to learn. I have tried different things and decided the things I don’t want for my future. Now I have an opportunity to explore new territory, learn more and discover what I am really passionate about and what I do want for my future.

The saddest part of leaving your job is most often losing the friendships you have formed in the workplace. Often, you spend more time with the people in your team at work than with your family, and I won’t deny that the thought of not seeing some of these people every day nearly brings me to tears.

As someone who lives alone, the people I work with are my family. They know my quirks and nuances, laugh at my jokes and share my stories and successes. I recall starting at this company and feeling like I didn’t fit in. It took me a good six months to feel like I belonged but I imagine it will take much longer to feel okay with not seeing them every day.

It’s my second last day today and I am nervous about finishing up, but excited about all the opportunities that lay before me. The decision to quit without a job to go to was not made lightly and I still question it four weeks after it was made, but I am confident that I have a strong support network in place and should things go pear shaped, my family will be there to help me pick up the pieces.

At the end of the day, I have decided to leave to try new things, explore opportunities and discover where my passions lie. I want to know what I am good at, what I enjoy and what I can be happy doing eight hours a day, five days a week. If that means less money, then that’s ok. If it means a longer commute, that’s ok too. I’ll make new friends and learn new things – and scary as that might be, it’s the right thing to do for me.

So I ask you again – would you quit your job with no job to go to? Would you do it for less money if it meant your personal happiness? What would you sacrifice to be challenged and motivated? I may be the Girl Without a Platinum Card – I may not even have a card after this decision – but I know my happiness is worth more than anything plastic can buy.