Why I Quit My Job to Reconnect with People and Joy

The Power of Questioning Yourself and the World

I’m a designer, a communicator, a pedagogue. I’m 36 years old and I’ve had many careers and many different jobs. Maybe I have undiagnosed ADHD. Or maybe I’m what some call a multipotentialite — someone with many interests and a deep love of learning.

I get curious about everything: baking, knitting, photography, fashion, design, painting… everything that allows me to be creative, express myself freely, and understand the world through colour, texture, flavour, form, and light.

Curiosity has been my compass. It has taken me to different countries, introduced me to incredible people, and taught me more than I could’ve imagined — about life, humanity, and, most of all, myself. And how did I learn all this? By asking questions. Always asking questions.

That’s one of the reasons I loved being a kindergarten teacher. When you're surrounded by 5-year-olds, there’s no such thing as too many questions. Children are the ultimate learners, the greatest teachers. Working with them teaches you things you never expected to learn: whether a sloth, a snail, or a turtle is slowest; which animal farts the most; what happens when we die; and what might happen if we only ate Nutella for the rest of our lives.

Children ask because they want to understand the world they’re part of. And if there’s one thing we should all learn from kids, it’s to never stop asking. I once read that we start getting old the moment we stop learning and playing — and I’ve never read anything more true. Since then, I made myself a promise: never stop asking the whys and the hows. Never say no to a game of hide and seek, a dance party, or anything that brings joy and belly laughs. Maybe that’s why people say I seem younger than my age — like a very tall 5-year-old.

So… Why Did I Quit My Job?

Because I was no longer allowed to ask questions.
Worse — I was told I was negative for doing so. A word no one had ever used to describe me before.

There were changes happening in the kindergarten — structural, cultural, philosophical. I get it. Change happens. But change should be an invitation: to improve, to grow, to evolve. I believe no meaningful transformation ever happens without first asking hard questions.

Sure, questions can be uncomfortable. But discomfort is where truth begins. You don’t ask to criticize — you ask to understand. You ask because you care. Because you want to protect the children in your care, your coworkers, yourself.

That’s how I ended up being publicly told to “change my attitude or find another job.”

Was it hard? Yes. Did it hurt? Of course. Did I take it personally? I tried not to. I don’t think my boss was cruel — I think she let her own fears and insecurities get the best of her.

But something inside me broke.
Because the truth is, I was already exhausted.

The Burnout No One Talks About

When you work as a caregiver — a teacher, a social worker, a healthcare worker — you give so much of yourself. Your energy, your attention, your emotional presence. You show up again and again for others. And quite often… no one shows up for you.

You hold space for everyone else’s needs until there's no space left for your own.

I had been dealing with stress for months.
My body was screaming at me in every way it could: hormonal acne, sudden weight loss, constant tension, emotional numbness. I felt disconnected from myself, from joy, from the people I loved. I was doing everything I could to hold it together — but I was falling apart.

And one day, I realized:
This is not what life is supposed to feel like.
This is not what I am supposed to feel like.

So I Quit.

The next day, I handed in my resignation.
The day after that, I booked my ticket to India.
I enrolled in a yoga teacher training without knowing where it would take me — only knowing I needed to find myself again.

For once, I listened to the part of me that was scared and brave. The part that said: “Enough. It’s time.”

And that month in India changed everything.

I met extraordinary people.
I asked myself more questions than ever before.
I cried, I danced, I laughed, I healed.

And I remembered who I am.

I learned that the questions never stop — and that’s the point. Asking the right questions is how we understand what we want, what we believe in, and who we’re becoming.

The hard part is having the courage to keep going even when you don’t have the answers. But that’s what transformation is: choosing to believe that joy is possible again, even when everything feels uncertain.

And here I am.
Still learning. Still asking. Still playing.
Still building a life with space for joy, for curiosity, for connection.

Because I truly believe this:
You don’t have to burn out to prove your worth.
You deserve a life that nourishes you.
You deserve to be cared for, too.