I didn’t quit because I hated my job.
I quit because it slowly turned me into someone I didn’t recognise.
I had a job I was proud of.
👷♀️ Flood engineer.
Saving cities from climate change.
Basically SimCity, but with real consequences.
And I was good at it.
15 years in.
Respected, paid well, flown to conferences.
Startup gig. Innovation. Impact.
All the fancy buzzwords.
So why did I leave?
Simple:
Because I’m not a 🤖
Let’s rewind.
In my 30s, I went back to uni — again.
Second degree. This time: ecological engineering.
Out of 250 students, only two of us were over 30. 😜
(Shoutout to adult learners quietly crying in library corners.)
I studied 100+ hours a week just to stay afloat.
Because I had something to prove.
Growing up in Taiwan, I was told girls weren’t “math smart.”
So I did law. Respectable. Safe.
But years later, I thought,
“Stuff it. I want to do fancy science stuff too.” 🤓
So I did.
First job: ambitious flood modelling project in Christchurch.
Full city scale.
Three-way coupled models.
We aimed for world-class.
We got… unstable simulations and tense engineers.
Still, it lit a fire in me. 🔥
I became a full-on flood nerd. 💦
Eventually joined a startup using tech to predict real-time flooding.
Title: Flood Engineer.
Vibe: science geek in a start-up playground. 🤓
The impact felt real.
And I felt proud. 😁
But here’s the thing:
Even when your career is going great,
it can still feel wrong. 🤯
Like shoes that look amazing but cut into your heel.
You limp along because they were expensive.
Until one day you go:
“Screw it. I want to walk barefoot.” 😇
For me, the turning point was family.
My parents are now in their 70s, still in Taiwan.
We weren’t close growing up,
but I started wondering:
Could I change that before it’s too late?
And if not now… when?
Leaving wasn’t easy.
I’d poured blood, sweat, and a ridiculous number of spreadsheets into this career.
It became part of my identity.
But then I remembered:
The sunk cost fallacy. ✌️
Just because you’ve spent years on something
doesn’t mean you owe it your future too.
So I quit.
No master plan.
Just curiosity — and a quiet hope to build a life that actually fits now.
These days I journal, learn things my dad thinks are useless,
daydream like it’s my job,
and train my mum in the gym so she can build muscle at 72. 💪🦸♀️
Honestly?
It’s weird. Beautiful. Messy.
But it’s mine.
And for the first time in a long time —
I feel human again. 🙀
If you’re clinging to a job, a title, or a version of you
because it’s impressive, familiar, or makes your LinkedIn look shiny —
I get it.
But sometimes, letting go of a version of you that once fit…
makes space for the one you’re becoming.
If that hits, say hi 👋
Or share this with someone stuck in the “I should be grateful” loop. ❤️
