'I left my job without another one lined up. Here's why it felt necessary.'

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Last month, I quit my job, without another one to go to.

I was removing my makeup when it dawned on me. The face in the mirror was not getting any younger. I was being dishonest with myself, spending my early forties in a job I no longer believed in. I realised to make life count I would need to make a change.

Ever since I met my husband, I shared that I wanted to stay at home full-time, once we had children. Self-employed when both children were born, I thought that selling my business would create the time and space I craved.

Instead, unable to find a rhythm outside of work, I ran into job interviews and networking. Initially, only considering part-time roles, the COVID lockdowns and widespread acceptance of 'work from home' made me feel I could juggle high-pressure jobs with child-rearing.

Being in a sales role, I had flexibility over my calendar. Yet, for me, the disjointed rhythm of school pick-ups and different starting times impacted my ability to lean-in. Initially, I thought I could manage it, and for specific project deliverables I did, with ease.

When a project was due, I would work efficiently until the assignment was completed to my satisfaction. I received praise from clients. Yet, the sustained discretionary effort required to truly excel, was a sword which cut both ways.

I could turn around a customer proposal in 24 hours, at the expense of arriving home just in time for dinner. I could stop and prepare meals, at the expense of a considered reply to my manager the same evening.

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Every moment had two needs pulling urgently in opposite directions. As I stood in the middle of them, I felt there was no pleasing both work and home life.

In an age of constant connectivity, I could always invest more in work. The rewards were immediate, the conversations stimulating, and the praise hard to resist.

Competitive by nature, I deliberately chose a career with in-built leaderboards where success could be measured. Terrific for my ambitious, child-free 20s, but less so, once I had children, and my priorities shifted.

With my children, it started as small complaints, "Mum, you're not listening to me" or "Mum, you took too long".

Innocent comments such as, "is it a short or long five minutes?" as my youngest noticed the difference between 'five more minutes of TV', versus 'give me five minutes and I'll be with you', when I was busy with work. The first was measured to the minute, and the second stretched out for as long as their patience would allow.

When they slept, there was always something to do. While our income was ample, life felt like something to be project managed, instead of lived. The exception was holiday time and the month of January. Yet this precious family time felt few and far between.

And so, every year, the same disbelief: "Is it Christmas again? Where has the year gone?"

I was so focused on productivity. Numbers. Competition. Putting pressure on myself to meet deadlines and targets to help increase the wealth of my clients and my organisation, and to discover increasingly better solutions, to prove we could do it better.

All of this while my children were growing up. I would pick them up from school, only to come home and have them hop on the internet or in front of a TV screen, because mum was too busy working to have meaningful discussions.

While I was focused elsewhere, asking them to entertain themselves, they did so and grew up. I blinked, looked back and suddenly didn't recognise some of what they had become.

Thankfully, as I saw it, there was still time.

They were still asking me to watch them. Listen to them. Come help with their homework.

So, I quit. Collaboratively and respectfully, even asking my team manager for their preferred notice period.

When asked "what will you do next?" I looked them in the eye and replied, "I will take a break!"

It has been 20 years since my university graduation, and I have 20 years until retirement. I want to pause, and think about what work I really want to do, and how many hours it will take. And then, how many hours are left for everything else, and am I comfortable with that?

More than earning a living, I want to leave a legacy. To be able to, God-willing, look back in my final years and be happy with my life's work and what it stood for. I want it to reflect the best of me, and what I am capable of. Something of worth, beyond the wages received.

Listen: Is your job built for a season of your life? And what happens when that season ends? Holly's joined by friends of the pod Em Vernem and Clare Stephens, for a chat about careers and ambition, plus the science that helps us keep on enjoying a job. Post continues below.

I recognise the ability to choose a job on this basis is a luxury. I have no idea if quitting without a role lined up, will be the silver bullet. Or, whether the frustrations of stay-at-home motherhood will mimic the frustrations of working, except without the pay.

Yet, as my son walks past me this evening, hair damp, wrapped in a towel and sprinkled with water droplets, I can stop, smile and engage.

"Mum, my vision is a bit blurry." I turn on my chair to face him."Really? Rub your eyes for a little bit". He does so."I think it's the steam from the shower," he says with a grin.

Will I find my rhythm? Will I find my tribe? Will focusing on home life simply magnify faults I cannot change? Will being present make a difference to my kids? Will our budget allow this, ongoing?

I don't have all the answers. What I do know is that slowing down, stopping and using my energy to think of ways to serve my family, feels right.

I'm reminded of a quote from Mark Twain, which inspired me to leave professional employment to start a business in my late twenties.

Now, in my early forties, the same words weave a siren song around me, demanding time for family and reflection: "Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn't do than by the ones you did. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbour. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover."

I'm excited to have left the safe harbour and be on the journey of discovery.

Feature Image: Getty.