Last August, I quit my corporate job after ten years in marketing. Looking back, the role no longer aligned with my values, it had drifted far from what I originally signed up for, and didn’t offer much room for growth. The first year felt fresh. The second, a little stagnant. By the time the third year approached, I felt stuck.
Leaving wasn’t dramatic—I’ll always have fond memories of that job, my coworkers, and the opportunities it gave me. However, what followed was a slight identity crisis. There’s a fine line between personal and professional, and whether we like it or not, our jobs often become a part of who we are. But maybe that’s a topic for another day.
When I left, I had a safety net—a temporary role in hospitality and customer service, an industry I knew well since it’s where I started out. The contract was meant to last three months, then fortunately, it got extended for two more, and by January, they offered me a permanent position. And what did I do? I kept applying for other jobs.
Why? Because that’s what I’d always done.
I realise now that since graduating from my first degree almost 15 years ago (eek!), I’ve always been on the job market—even when I had a secure, permanent contract. Searching for the next big thing became a habit. Either the next step up or the role that would bring me closer to it. It almost became second nature. I’d read a job ad, think, Yes, I could do that, tweak my resume, craft another cover letter, and hit apply. Sometimes I genuinely wanted the role, but often it was just what I did—always looking, always chasing.
Talking to friends, and scrolling through LinkedIn, it seems like jobs have an invisible expiry date. Two years feels like the sweet spot. If your job doesn’t “spark joy,” it’s time to move on. We’re always supposed to be moving forward, even if we’re not entirely sure where “forward” is leading.


Then one day, at my current job, a colleague casually asked me:
How long are you planning to stay here?
That simple question stopped me in my tracks. I didn’t have an answer. Not because I knew I would be leaving soon, but because I realised I’d never actually considered staying. I’d never allowed myself to just be in a job without mentally plotting my exit.
So, I’m taking a break from applying. A proper one.
Job hunting is exhausting—not just in terms of effort but mentally too. Rejections chip away at your confidence. You start questioning your skills, your worth, and even your identity. And beyond that, constantly looking ahead—manifesting, planning, chasing—means you’re never really present. And that’s not how I want to live.
My word(s) for 2025 is be present, and I want to apply that to my professional life, too. Instead of fixating on the next thing, I want to embrace where I am now. My job isn’t my dream job—it’s physically tiring, socially draining, and doesn’t offer much in terms of career progression. But for now, it’s good. The team is the most caring I’ve ever worked with, the work is steady, and for once, I’m not on edge about what’s next.
Rather than applying for jobs on autopilot, I want to be intentional. Instead of asking, Can I do this job? I want to ask, Do I actually want to do this? Will I enjoy it? Does it align with my values?
While I’m in this role, I want to use my time to reflect. What do I truly want from a job? What kind of work makes me feel fulfilled? What skills do I enjoy using? I also want to take this time to self-study, refine some skills, learn new ones, and rework my resume. Right now, my goal is to focus on growing and improving while keeping an open mind. I’ll keep browsing job ads to see what’s out there—maybe a role will catch my interest—but I want to do it without the pressure of moving just for the sake of moving.
I debated writing this post. It started as a stream of consciousness in my journal, and I wasn’t sure if I should share it. It feels quite personal. It’s also different from what I usually write about, and I don’t want it to come across as complaining—I’m in a privileged position to have a job at all, let alone to have been able to walk away from one. Adjusting to a different salary hasn’t been easy, but I made the choice, and I stand by it.
But in the end, I decided to share this because I know I’m not the only one who feels like this. Maybe you’re tired of the endless job hunt too. Maybe you’re questioning where you’re headed or feeling guilty for not chasing the next step harder. If that’s the case, I hope this reminds you that it’s okay to pause. To take a breath. To step off the hamster wheel. To stop searching and just be—even if only for a little while.
Until next time,
Amandine
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As someone who recently made the silly mistake of over-applying to job openings, this essay could not have come at a better time for me. I totally understand what you mean. I’ve just made the executive (and admittedly long overdue) decision to take a break from job hunting for the whole month of April. And while there’s internal resistance (as I have an ideal timeline in mind), I know that it’s the best move for me right now. I need to take a step back, reassess my priorities, and when I feel recharged and ready, dive back in with a clear head and clearer intention.
Great piece. Thanks for writing it. 🤍
i love your mindful approach to taking time off - job hunting can be an absolute slog. plus, securing a role that aligns with our values is so vital. maybe that's part of why job searching can feel so draining: ensuring that a certain role, company, and work culture checks all our boxes, while we're also working to (and hoping we) check off all the boxes a certain position requires. and then, applying to twenty different companies in a week 🫠🫠 it's so much better to take things day-by-day and feel better about where we're looking.
thank you for this reassuring piece, i needed it :)