If my values changed, are my friends still my friends?
Quitting my job was like quitting friends, too (and they don’t even work there)
One day, after dreaming about it for a long time, I decided to quit my job as a teacher and become a writer. I had some money saved and my partner’s full support. I took a couple of weeks to recover from the worst burnout of my life, and then I joined Medium and went back to the novel I had abandoned months ago.
To start this new chapter of my life, I created my own space in our apartment: a cozy corner with a desk, a good chair, and a tiny plant. I was ready and excited.
I never felt I was doing something crazy or stupid… until I started telling people what I was up to—especially my millennial friends.
When I told them I had quit, they immediately asked about the companies I was applying to and the schools I might want to work in. Next, they told me what other jobs I was suited for and sent me LinkedIn posts. So far, it was alright; they were trying to help me, and they did not know the whole thing yet. But then, the worse happened: I told them I wasn’t looking for another job because I had decided to take some time to finish my novel and write on Medium.
I felt like a teenager telling my dad I was pregnant.
They exchanged awkward looks while sipping their beers, waiting for someone to say something. I could tell some of them felt sorry for me. They thought I was having a breakdown or an early midlife crisis. Or worse: they thought I was so naive that I didn’t know what I was doing, and I would regret this on my deathbed, broke and unsuccessful, dreaming about the steady income I rejected. Which was not much. Remember, I was a teacher.
After that night, they continued to send me LinkedIn posts and tell me about openings they had heard about through friends. They never asked about my writing. It felt like they were trying to say to me to grow up. We haven’t seen each other or talked much since then. I admit that I am also distant.
It surprised me that the people who judged me the most for this decision were from my generation; the oldest is 35. I expected that reaction from my parent’s generation or my grandmother’s. But they were actually the most supportive.
I am not going to lie. The next day, after the dinner party, I felt strange. I wondered if I was making a huge mistake, even if I was happier than ever. Or the changes in my lifestyle and values meant that my friends and I were no longer compatible.
I remembered the things we used to talk about when we saw each other: work, problems at work, our toxic bosses, the pains of an unhealthy work environment, and how underpaid we were. Sometimes we needed to go for a beer on Friday to celebrate we had survived another week. For many, these problems are normal; they are just proof that they are adults.
I realized I had built friendships with very traditional values that I no longer share. I never really did, but I was scared to change my life. I still love my friends; we have shared so many years. However, I need to explore to which point we can understand each other and to which end we help each other grow. I am starting to think we were so close only because we saw a reflection of ourselves in the other. And certainly, we can’t see that reflection anymore.
Regardless of what happens with my current friends, I realized I need to connect with new people who are also trying to live courageous and creative lives. People who understand what I am trying to do. Until now, I didn’t realize how important that is.
Finally, I need to remember one undeniable yet often forgotten truth: I am more than the money I make.
