I told myself I wouldn't end up a bag lady

And then I quit my job

Cape Town had an energy that drew me in. When I was there, I felt like I was being plugged into a socket. Recharged.

My best friend had moved back after a stint in London. He invited me to visit for Christmas. I’d been there once for work and it hadn’t done much for me. This time was different. Living his life alongside him, it felt magical. I just knew I had to be there.

I started visiting more often. A couple of weeks every few months, then four out of every six weeks. I still had a job back in London but I couldn’t bear to be there anymore. Eleven years, and I was done. The trains, the tubes, the volume of people, the distance to real nature. Done.

The guy I worked for was open to me going back and forth. As long as the work got done, it was fine. We were both happy.

Until he left the company.

My happy arrangement started crumbling around me. People started questioning why I got to spend so much time in Cape Town. The new guy didn’t like it. What really upset me was that I knew most of those people wouldn’t do the same even if they had the chance. Why did they have to piss all over my parade?

I’d always wanted to do a PhD, and my plan had been to do it at the University of Cape Town while continuing to work from there. But it was made very clear that if I stayed with the company, Cape Town wasn’t an option.

I could do the PhD remotely and travel for classes once a quarter, the way some people did. But I wanted to be there. Properly. Immersed in it.

The problem was, I had no other job lined up and my savings, while okay, weren’t great. The thought of not having income freaked me out.

I scribbled living costs and PhD costs in my journal, over and over, trying to bring the numbers down wherever I could. Each time I found a way to shave something off, I’d feel a flicker of hope. Okay, this looks more doable.

And then I’d sit back and feel it. That low pull in the pit of my stomach. Because this wasn’t how I had pictured my life in Cape Town.

I kept having to remind myself that I wouldn’t end up a bag lady living in the gutter. I was smart, I was willing to work hard, I would figure it out.

Everything in me said: go for it. Take a risk. Jump in and trust yourself.

So I did.

I quit the job, gave away most of what I owned, packed two suitcases and moved.

The first week I was there, before my PhD had even started, I met a guy who was launching a new fintech company and needed a Chief Marketing Officer. I ended up co-founding it with him and leading marketing while doing my PhD at the same time. And the week after that, I met the man who would become my husband, Chris. But that’s another story.

I’m not going to pretend the leap wasn’t terrifying. It was. The self-convincing was real, the fear was real, and there was no guarantee it would work out the way it did.

But something in me knew. And the one thing I’ve learned is that when something in you just knows, it’s worth paying attention to.

Is there a pull you’ve been ignoring? Something in you that just knows, but you haven’t quite let yourself trust it yet?