There’s a moment (and you’ll feel it in your gut) where you know it’s time to leave. The project, the role, the relationship, the loop you’ve been caught in.
Something shifts. You’re not learning, not growing, not aligned. You’ve said the things. You’ve tried the moves. And now, staying would cost more than leaving.
I know this feeling intimately. After my burnout, I spent two more years in the same position. Two years of well-meaning people asking, “We love you, but why are you still here? Why don’t you leave this behind?”. Better pastures.
The questions stung because I didn’t have a good answer. I was stuck in the gap between knowing something needed to change and actually making the change. I was trying to fix myself within a system that had already broken me.
Eventually, I did leave. And then came the real challenge.
Was it the right choice? Should I have stayed longer? Did they even notice I left? What are they saying about me now?
This is where people get stuck. Not in the leaving, but in the looking back.
Here’s what I’ve learned through living this exact pattern: Looking back makes sense emotionally, it doesn’t make sense strategically.
When your energy is still orbiting what you left behind, you can’t fully engage with what’s ahead. You’re not free if you’re still performing imaginary conversations in your head. You’re not learning if all your reflection is tied to regret or validation-seeking.
The truth is: if you left with awareness, if it was a conscious choice, not just an escape, then your work is already done. The rest is residue. Echoes. Ego trying to pull you back in.
Walking away clearly is a form of respect for yourself and for what came before. You’re saying: this chapter is closed. Not in anger, not in denial. Just… done.