Okay, so, career change. It sounds so…official, right? Like you’re wearing a power suit and striding confidently into a new skyscraper. My experience was decidedly less polished. More like tripping over a rogue Lego in the dark while trying to find the light switch. Honestly, the whole thing was messy. And still is, in some ways. But, you know, sometimes messy is good. Or at least, survivable.
The Existential Dread of Another Monday
For years, I was an accountant. Yep, crunching numbers, spreadsheets galore, the whole nine yards. It wasn’t *terrible*, I guess. Stable, good benefits. But every Sunday night, that familiar dread would creep in. The thought of another week staring at a screen filled with tiny little digits just…sucked the joy right out of me. Was this it? Was this how I wanted to spend the next 20, 30, maybe even 40 years? Ugh. It sounds dramatic, I know. But seriously, I felt like I was slowly being suffocated by beige. Was I the only one feeling like this? Surely not. It kind of felt like that scene in “Office Space” with the stapler, only I was the stapler, being slowly and methodically abused by the corporate world.
And it wasn’t just the numbers. It was the meetings that could have been emails. The office politics. The forced fun Fridays. Oh god, the forced fun. Don’t even get me started. So, I started to daydream. A lot. I mean, a *lot* a lot. About… well, anything other than debits and credits. I fantasized about opening a bakery. Or maybe becoming a park ranger. Or even just living in a cabin in the woods and knitting sweaters for squirrels. Okay, maybe not the squirrels, but you get the idea. Anything but accounting.
The “Aha!” Moment (Or Maybe Just a Mild Spark)
I wouldn’t say there was a single, dramatic “aha!” moment. More like a series of tiny little sparks that eventually ignited a (small) fire. I started taking pottery classes on the weekends. Just for fun, you know? To get my hands dirty and do something creative. And I loved it. Like, really loved it. The feeling of the clay between my fingers, the challenge of shaping something beautiful and functional out of a lump of mud… it was so different from anything I’d ever done before. It was… freeing.
Then, one day, my pottery teacher mentioned that she was looking for an assistant to help out with her classes. And that little spark? It flickered a bit brighter. She knew I worked as an accountant and was surprised I would even consider it. Was I crazy? Maybe. But the idea of spending my days surrounded by clay and creative energy instead of spreadsheets and soul-crushing meetings…well, it was too tempting to resist. I mean, who wouldn’t want to play with mud all day?
The Leap (And the Landing… Wasn’t Pretty)
Quitting my stable, well-paying job was terrifying. Absolutely terrifying. I spent weeks agonizing over the decision. I made pros and cons lists. I talked to my friends, my family, my therapist. Everyone had an opinion, of course. Some people were supportive (“Go for it! You only live once!”). Others were… less so (“Are you crazy? You’re throwing away a perfectly good career!”). My parents, bless their hearts, were especially concerned. They’d worked so hard to provide me with a good education, and they couldn’t quite understand why I would want to throw it all away to… play with clay.
But, eventually, I made the leap. I gave my notice, packed up my desk, and said goodbye to the beige walls of my corporate prison. I’d saved up a bit of a buffer, but honestly, it wasn’t nearly enough. I had this grand vision of myself as this successful potter, slinging clay and making bank. The reality was a lot less glamorous. I was mostly cleaning the studio, mixing clay, and occasionally teaching beginners how to make wobbly bowls that looked more like ashtrays. The pay was… well, let’s just say I was eating a lot of ramen. I totally messed up by not having enough savings to really give it a proper go.
The Unexpected Joys (And the Occasional Meltdown)
It wasn’t easy. There were days when I seriously regretted my decision. Days when I missed the stability and the paycheck of my old job. Days when I wondered if I had completely lost my mind. But… there were also days when I felt truly happy. Days when I created something beautiful that I was proud of. Days when I connected with my students and helped them discover their own creative potential. And those days? Those days made it all worthwhile.
The funny thing is, I also learned a lot about myself. I discovered that I was more resilient than I thought. That I was capable of handling uncertainty and discomfort. That I was actually pretty good at teaching. I learned how to budget like a pro (necessity is the mother of invention, right?). And I learned that even though I wasn’t making a ton of money, I was making a difference. Even if it was just a small difference in the lives of my students.
I also got better at pottery, obviously. After a year or so, I started selling my own pieces at local craft fairs. Which was terrifying, at first. Putting your heart and soul out there for the world to judge… it’s a vulnerable feeling. But it was also incredibly rewarding when people actually liked my work and were willing to pay for it. One lady even cried when she bought one of my mugs! Apparently, it reminded her of her grandmother. Talk about validation.
So, Was It Worth It?
That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it? Was it worth giving up the security and stability of my old life to pursue my passion? Honestly, I still don’t know for sure. It’s a work in progress. I’m not exactly rolling in dough, and I still have moments of doubt and insecurity. But I’m also happier than I’ve been in a long time. I’m doing something that I love, something that feels meaningful to me. And that, I think, is worth a lot.
If I could go back and do it all again, would I? Probably. Maybe with a better financial plan. And maybe with a little less naiveté. But I wouldn’t change the fact that I took the leap. Because even though the landing wasn’t pretty, I learned so much along the way. And I discovered a part of myself that I never knew existed.
If you’re as curious as I was, you might want to dig into stories of other people who made similar career shifts. There are podcasts and articles all over the place detailing the good, the bad, and the ugly of it all. It’s comforting to know you aren’t alone.
What’s Next? (Who Even Knows?)
The truth is, I don’t know what the future holds. Maybe I’ll open my own pottery studio someday. Maybe I’ll go back to accounting (shudder). Maybe I’ll finally move to that cabin in the woods and knit sweaters for squirrels (okay, probably not). But whatever happens, I know that I’ll be okay. Because I’ve learned that I can handle whatever life throws my way. Even if it’s a wobbly bowl that looks like an ashtray.
And that, my friends, is a pretty good feeling.
