What I Didn't Need to Hear After Quitting My Toxic Job

One year ago, I walked away from the job that nearly broke me.

Not because I had a new one lined up.

Not because I had it all figured out.

But because staying was slowly crushing my soul and my health.

This past weekend marked my quitaversary. One year since I closed my laptop, signed off from Slack, and decided to choose me over a paycheck that came with panic attacks.

You'd think that would feel like a celebration. And in many ways, it does.

And a big part of that had nothing to do with money, logistics, or job hunting.

It had to do with the things people said when I was still raw.

That's what really caught me off guard.

People mean well. Most of them truly do. But when you're freshly out of a toxic work environment, your system is still fried, your confidence is shaky, and the wrong words can land like a punch to the gut.

So, in the spirit of honesty and in honor of my quitaversary, here's what I didn't need to hear...

"At least you're out!"

Yes... and I'm also untangling months (or years) of stress, self-doubt, gaslighting, and being in a constant state of fight-or-flight.

Leaving doesn't instantly fix everything. The nervous system doesn't know the difference between "we're safe now" and "it's Tuesday, and I still feel like I'm being chased."

I'm still jumping at emails. Still waking up in a panic. Still feeling the Sunday scaries.

What I needed wasn't a celebration. I needed space to breathe.

Try this instead:

"You're so brave. I could never do that."

Gee, thanks. Now I'm being put on a pedestal I didn't ask for.

I didn't quit because I was fearless. I quit because I couldn't keep making myself sick to make someone else comfortable.

And when you say you could never do that, it can unintentionally isolate the person who already feels fragile. Like maybe I am too much... or like I made the "irresponsible" choice.

Quitting was a survival decision. It wasn't glamorous. It was gut-wrenching.

Try this instead:

"You'll bounce back in no time!"

I didn't want to "bounce back." That implies going back to what I was doing before. And what I was doing before led me here.

I wanted to rebuild... intentionally, slowly, differently.

Healing from burnout isn't a quick fix. It's not a weekend off and a new planner.

It's an unlearning. A grieving. A quiet reintroduction to myself.

And when people expect me to just pop back up, it makes me feel like I'm failing at healing, too.

Try this instead:

"Everything happens for a reason."

Maybe. But that reason isn't always obvious... or comforting.

Sometimes, awful things happen in dysfunctional systems. Sometimes people get used up, discarded, burned out.

Trying to find some cosmic lesson while I'm still in the wreckage makes me feel like I need to hurry up and feel grateful for my suffering.

But healing doesn't require a moral. It requires safety, support, and time.

Try this instead:

"At least you got out before it got worse."

Maybe. But that diminishes the bad I did experience. Just because it could have been worse, that doesn't make what I went through okay.

And I waited too long. I stayed past the red flags. I minimized the impact it was having on me because I didn't want to be seen as weak, emotional, or dramatic.

So when people say this, it lands like a subtle judgment. Like I should've been faster, wiser, better. And that I should be grateful that what I experienced wasn't worse.

But what I really needed was compassion for the version of me that stayed.

Try this instead:

There's this myth that once you leave a toxic job, it's all up from there.

But leaving is just the beginning.

The beginning of healing. Of unlearning. Of redefining what success, safety, and self-trust actually look like.

And that process is messy. It's quiet. It's brave in a way most people won't ever see.

So if you've left (or you're thinking about it) and you're navigating the weird cocktail of grief, guilt, relief, and "what now?"

I see you. I've been you. And you're not alone in this.

And if you missed it, I shared another post a few months ago about the things I did need to hear in those early days. You can read that one here:

​Things I Needed to Hear After Quitting a Toxic Job​

You don't need to explain your exhaustion.

You don't have to justify your decision.

You just need space to figure out what comes next.

Take care,

Tara

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P.S. If you're at a crossroads and want support making sense of your burnout, your next move, or what a sustainable career could look like, I'd love to help. Book your Career Reboot Strategy Session.