I recently quit my job as a United States diplomat. No, I didn’t have an elaborate plan or a lot of savings; I just finally got honest with myself and acknowledged that the machine made me unhappy AF, so I left. Simple as that. Life is too short to be miserable.
While I hated the machine - which I also refer(red) to as “a figurative plantation,” “the man,” or “a soul crushing bureaucrazy” (no, that isn’t a typo) - I fell in love with all of the places where I served, the local staff with whom I worked, and a select group of normal Americans that I could commiserate and travel with. These are the things that made it hard to leave, that is until I had a flashback to the institutional racism, sexism, and inefficiency - then my reasons for leaving became suddenly clear again. *Pours one for my homies still in the Foreign Service*
Now that my golden handcuffs are in the trash and I can express myself without a disclaimer, I’m doing me (Drake voice), and working to make the world a better place in my own special way.