Struggle Street

I have developed a habit over the years of spending my spare time coming up with analogies for things, to try and explain them more simply. For funsies, because I’m super cool and not a massive nerd. At my last job it was useful to help translate more technical aspects to people who aren’t very tech savvy, but often I work out analogies to help explain or process emotions and thoughts I have. A lot of the time they end up being convoluted or unoriginal so I don’t share them with anyone, but I still enjoy using that part of my brain in this way.

After I handed in my resignation for that job, I had an immediate feeling of relief that I struggled to articulate in simple terms when trying to explain it. There were a lot of feelings all tangled together and that made it hard to work out where to start and I ended up going in circles or off on tangents. In the end I kept returning to the idea of ‘the light at the end of the tunnel’, as cliched as that is.

Looking back at those years, it was as if I had been running down a long, long tunnel. At the start it was easy; I was walking along, relaxed, with plenty of light and air coming from the tunnel’s entrance. I had just started out on my journey so I had plenty of energy and enthusiasm about the adventure ahead of me and all the different paths I could take.

But what I didn’t notice was that the tunnel had a slight decline, so I was slowly going deeper and deeper underground. It got darker, and colder. I started getting tired. There weren’t any side tunnels, just a long path straight ahead. But something would have to change eventually, right?

Then the tunnel started getting damp. Water was gradually rising as I went further underground, making it harder to keep walking and making my legs get more and more tired. But I kept walking, because I needed to keep myself warm somehow.

At some point I noticed the sound of something behind me. I could hear its breath close by, lurking and threatening, waiting for the opportune moment to strike. So I started walking faster. But the threat kept up with me, even as my speed increased. I could hear the breathing getting louder and closer as I ended up running through deep water. I was exhausted, freezing, but terrified of what would happen if I stopped moving, so I kept pushing myself forward and further into the dark. But could I keep running at this pace for the foreseeable future? How much longer did I have before my legs gave out, or until the monster grew bored of just matching my pace and finally attacked? When all I could see ahead of me was an endless dark tunnel, was it even worth trying to pretend I would get out of there alive?

Deciding to quit that job, as cheesy as it sounds, was a tiny pinprick of light in this tunnel. My eyes weren’t playing tricks on me, it was really there. I might actually be able to survive and escape. That’s where this relief started building.

So I didn’t give up. I kept running. I handed in my resignation and the tunnel’s descent started evening out again, and the water started receding as well. It was getting easier to keep moving forward. But the monster was still there behind me, I couldn’t stop until I was out into the open air again.

However, I could at least pace myself better. The light was getting brighter, I was making progress, the monster hadn’t caught me yet so maybe I didn’t need to sprint. So I slowed down a little, and the monster kept their distance.

Now that I wasn’t in survival mode I was able to pay more attention to my surroundings. I was able to realise that all this time I hadn’t actually heard any footsteps or other sounds from the monster behind me, just their looming breaths. The truth of it all? What I could hear was just the sound of my own breaths echoing off the tunnel walls. There was no monster, nothing had been chasing me all this time. I could finally stop running.

And that is when it all sank in and I felt a huge sense of peace. I was so close to freedom that I could smell it, I just needed to walk that last stretch and step out into the sunlight.

But how do you explain to people that quitting your job with no plans lined up, when you live alone in one of the most expensive cities in the world, is the cause of the drastic changes in your mood without also also explaining what would have happened if you stayed there a moment longer?