I quit my job.

I quit my job. I won’t say why or what happened because this is a public blog and for all the things I could say and share and expose and publicize, it could seriously land me in legal hot water. But just know that that workplace was not a good workplace and so I quit (plus, if you have me on Facebook, you know all about it already).

But that experience was more traumatic than I credited it for and has left me less than half a person of myself, just totally wrung out and hollow. I have less of me than I initially thought and it’s only hitting me now, how much of myself has been compromised, how much of me has been lost…

I officially left only a week ago and I had the long Easter weekend to just sleep and become conscious again (I felt like a lobotomized vegetable by the end). Before starting my next job, I’ve been given a bit of time off. But what this time off has been revealing about how I really am now has been startling. I thought I would have the relief and happiness and motivation to propel me and jump right back into things— see friends again, see family again, get back into shape/cycling again. I thought these things could happen immediately, with such ease, like after a prison break, just running free and into the arms of a new and better life…

But it seems that I am frightened of EVERYTHING now. I have paralyzing social anxiety, so much that it’s hard for me to leave the house. I have symptoms of depression (I should note that I suffer from anxiety, but not depression. I know what depression is and I don’t have it). My coping skills have been shot. I want to see friends and family again, I miss them so much, but I’m too afraid to see them, because there’s expectation there. I’m afraid to even try riding my bike outdoors because there’s too much expectation there. And I cannot cope.

The cycling is what I'm struggling with the most, bar none. It is legit scaring me how this part of me has been lost and it is an enormous loss. Due to job burnout that I was never allowed time to recover from, cycling took a far backseat and I haven’t been on even my commuter since last fall. The trainer? Forget it. I just didn’t have the time or motivation or energy to even approach it these last six months. Cycling has been forgotten.

And now that the new season is here, I cannot cope with the magnitude of it all. The training. The group rides. The discipline to keep at it. The competitive energy. The specific culture. The lifestyle. It is too much. It is too big. I’ve never felt more removed from the sport. I have never felt more removed from the community, my friends. I have never felt more unworthy of the sport. To have to start at a very low bottom is painful, it daunts me, and really preys and picks on my self-esteem and self-worth. I have no body for it anymore. My strength is gone, my stamina is gone, my endurance is gone. And therefore, my love and passion for it are gone.

And I’ve dreaded the day where I knew that this was going to affect Matt and I and I would have to deal with it somehow. I had always masochistically fantasized about what would happen if either one of us fell out of cycling. It’s been such a cornerstone of our relationship, so integral, so ever-present, such a treasured and bonding past-time. And as I feel myself withdraw or shy away from it, I can see and feel Matt hurt by it. What happens to us. What does this mean for our relationship. I don’t know and it makes me scared and so sad.

I clearly bought into the cult of hustle. It was a life goal to become a pastry chef and then it happened, beyond my wildest dreams and expectations. But it came at a steep price, with too much sacrifice along the way. And I’ll only continually wonder whether any of it was worth it all….