New Year reflections: Quitting my corporate job, pursuing art, and the lessons I’ve learned along the way

“Often people attempt to live their lives backwards: they try to have more things, or more money, in order to do more of what they want so that they will be happier. The way it actually works is the reverse. You must first be who you really are, then, do what you need to do, in order to have what you want.” Margaret Young

There are dozens, potentially hundreds, of Youtube videos out there about people quitting their jobs, collectively racking up millions of views. (“I quit my six-figure job.” “I Quit My Job (Without Another Job Lined Up).” “I QUIT my stable 9-5 job.” ) For a culture obsessed with getting the job, we seem equally fixated on the idea of leaving it all behind—a radical act of defiance that makes for excellent late-night viewing (when we should be, say, finalizing a client pitch). These stories offer a glimpse into life on the other side; they’ve made the leap and lived to tell the tale.

In May 2024, I became one of them. I quit my job with nothing lined up, except a desire to carve out my own path and make more art.

It wasn’t an impulse decision, but it wasn’t fully premeditated, either. It grew out of a vague discontent that had been growing within me for years. That feeling led me to switch jobs, transfer departments, and even change careers. By the time I finally quit, I was in a creative role that seemed like a great fit for my strengths and interests. Why was I so unhappy, then?

The answer, I learned, was that my relationship to work and creativity was broken. I’d spent so much of my life grinding — a survival mechanism that got me into a prestigious university and kept me afloat in the corporate world — that I had become tired of grinding, even at a job I enjoyed. The anxiety to produce, be perfect, and please others had taken its toll. Worse still, I found that the more I cared about the work, the stronger the anxiety and perfectionism became. 

Coupled with mounting client demands in an uncertain economy, the work stress felt never-ending. I soon realized that I was on a ladder to nowhere. Yes, there was the promise of promotions and raises – but where was it all leading? To a future state where I’d finally feel well? Or one where I’d still be grinding except with a bigger paycheck, a fancier title, and arguably more stress? My creative job, which I had worked so hard to land, had become a never-ending means to an end. 

Doing the work

My artistic recovery starter pack

To be honest, I wasn’t sure what I expected to come out of quitting, but I can assure you that many of the fantasies I had entertained were never realized. I didn’t create the 20-30 masterpieces I had envisioned creating. I didn’t blow up on Instagram or gain thousands of followers overnight. I didn’t even get to make my own viral Youtube video about quitting my six-figure job. Instead, for the first few months, I experienced tremendous emotional pain. Out of work yet unable to truly let myself rest, I existed in a limbo of guilt, regret, mourning, and fear.

After a great deal of reading, reflecting, and talking with friends, something finally clicked. You see, when I first set off to become an artist, I was afraid that turning my passion into my career would ruin my love for it. But I realized I had it backwards. Rather than applying the same broken, late-capitalist modes of operating to my art, I needed to identify as an artist first — then fundamentally reorient the rest of my life to protect that identity. I realized that the biggest shift I’d gained from all of this was not an external one, but an internal one.

Here are some of the lessons I’ve learned.

Lesson #1: Art = Life

More than anything, I learned that being an artist is really a way of being in the world: one that embraces mindfulness, play, intuition, and discovery.

Julia Cameron’s seminal book on the creative life, The Artist’s Way, was key to this realization for me. The book offers a 12-week spiritual and practical guide to cultivating and tapping into a more creative way of life. Cameron writes that creativity comes when we pay attention: “Creativity occurs in the moment, and in the moment we are timeless. Art is born in attention.” Her manual for creative living details daily exercises that encourage the reader to live a richer, more intentional life, and honor their inner child — the spark that powers our creative soul. When we create the space for a richer life, she argues, we’ll find an abundant creative stream that fuels our artistic endeavors.

The Artist’s Way helped me heal childhood wounds and become more in tune with my inner world. This led to a healthier relationship with the act of making art, which in turn resulted in me making art more consistently and freely.

Doing The Artist’s Way with a group of friends was a highlight of 2024!

If art really is life, I’ve also found the reverse to be true. When I took my first abstract painting class this summer, it became abundantly clear that the very things I was struggling with in life were also making their way onto the canvas. Early on, my instructor noticed that I had a bad habit of making a mark with my paintbrush, then immediately smoothing it over.

“Cindy, stop doing that,” he said, furrowing his brow. “Each mark we make is significant because it fundamentally alters the relationships within the painting – and that can be uncomfortable to confront. The next time you make a mark, I want you to commit to it, and sit with that discomfort.”

Later on, when I recounted this story to a friend, she joked that he should send me an invoice for the therapy session.

Lesson #2: Embrace process over output, questions over answers

I relate to Jack Skellington far more than I care to admit…

In the beginning of my art journey, I spent weeks agonizing about what to make, and what my art should mean. In the corporate world, we’re taught that creative work should always follow strategy.

As I struggled to find my “big idea,” it quickly became clear that the obsession with making my art mean something was hindering the making of the art itself. In contrast, when I let myself explore naturally and get lost in the act of creation, I found that it yielded far richer results than anything I could have preempted.

In The Creative Act, Rick Rubin writes that the meaning behind our work often reveals itself through the process of creation or even after we’ve made the piece itself. He says, “If you know what you want to do and you do it, that’s the work of a craftsman. If you begin with a question and use it to guide an adventure of discovery, that’s the work of the artist.”

I’ve found that embracing process over output has also helped me conquer another familiar enemy: perfectionism. When I stopped pressuring myself to produce masterpiece after masterpiece and instead viewed my practice as a continual journey of exploration, I started to make much more (and better) art.

Lesson #3: The creative act is a longing to transcend

From Steven Pressfield’s The War of Art (2002)

Perhaps the reason why we can’t overthink our way into art, and must always surrender a degree of control, is that our thinking selves are only one sliver of who we really are. The rest lies in the domain of the intuitive, subconscious self, which we can access through – you guessed it – art.

In The Creative Act, Rubin writes, “The act of creation is an attempt to enter a mysterious realm. A longing to transcend. What we create allows us to share glimpses of an inner landscape, one that is beyond our understanding. Art is our portal to the unseen world.”

Similarly, in The War of Art, author Steven Pressfield writes that in order to create art, we must transcend the Ego to access the Self. He defines the Ego as “that part of the psyche that believes in material existence,” and is responsible for planning ahead and strategizing to ensure our day-to-day survival. In contrast, he describes the Self as “our deepest being,” operating in a dimension beyond time and space, and driven by love and connectedness to all living things. The eponymous “war” described by Pressfield is really a daily, lifelong struggle to overcome the obstacles manufactured by our Ego to keep us safe, so that we can answer the deeper callings of the Self. When we are able to do this, we become a vessel for the sublime.

Closing thoughts

I know it’s time to end a blog post when I’ve just written the words “vessel for the sublime.” If you’ve made it this far, thank you for reading – I hope I’ve offered some food for thought!

Though not everyone identifies as or wants to become an artist, I do believe there are broadly applicable lessons for living a more fulfilled, creative life. I think many of us would like more play and intentionality in the lives we lead – and quitting our jobs is certainly not required to start doing that.

CN