How Do You Know It’s Time To Leave Your […]
You know it’s time to leave your […], when…
You passionately hate your commute to […]. On daily basis. In both directions.
You roll your eyes slightly before each encounter with […].
You feel constantly irritated by being around […], even though you can’t point out what exactly bothers you.
You brace yourself: “Here we go again” before dealing with […]
You daydream about the time when […] would be different.
You spend more time daydreaming about […] being different than actually dealing with […].
You have to keep a mental checklist of reasons why […] is good for you; without that checklist you would just walk away.
You decide to give […] one more chance. For the 10th time.
You are wondering: “Maybe it’s not that something is wrong with […], maybe it’s me”. For years.
You think of a million excuses to avoid […], but at the end, give in. And being dutiful still doesn’t make you feel good about it.
You keep repeating the mantra: “[…] pays my bills. […] pays my bills. […] pays my bills”, until you fall asleep.
You stay with […] only because you are scared of what your life would be like without […].
You wish for a natural disaster to happen to […], even though you feel terribly guilty about it. (This one is often connected with #9)
You Feel like […] brings out the worst in you, and you have no control over it.
Coincidentally but consistently you experience physical pain when dealing with […] – a headache, an ulcer flair up, a back ache.
You do a happy dance around your living room when […] is unexpectedly cancelled.
You frequently compare your […] to other people’s […], and are never satisfied with the comparison.
You feel that […] makes you physically sick.
You use […] as an excuse for not doing things that make you feel most like yourself.
You are convinced that even though […] is bad for you, You are really good for […], so you ought to stick around.
You forgot who you are without […], but you would really like to find out.
People that you care about continue to exclaim in disbelief over years: “Wow, you are still doing/dating/working at […]?!” And your reaction is more apologetic than proud.
You imagine yourself post-[…] more and more often, and you like the way it looks.
You can do […] on auto-pilot, while your mind is already wondering off to something else.
You can’t fit into […] anymore, no matter how much you suck your stomach in, no matter how big of a smile you put on your face, and no matter how hard you try.
You are frustrated about the fact that you spend more time fixing […] than using it.
[…] looks really, really good on the paper, but it is shorter /less sparkly /more depressing in person
When you extend an invitation to […], in your heart you hope that […] will decline.
If others knew what […] actually feels like, they wouldn’t be so jealous of you.
You are certain that your life would be better off without […]. And even if it wouldn’t be, you are willing to take the chance.
*** Disclaimer: if you are a parent of a toddler or a teenager, please do not take this material as a parenting guideline. Instead, take a nap, get a glass of wine, a cup of tea, or wait for 10-20 years.***