A twitter conversation made me think about my last day job. It started out great, and gradually spiraled down to a point where I would come home and be too depressed and angry to write. (I had gone part time with it because I was currently trying to finish the Ile-Rien trilogy.) It would take me a couple of hours of playing a game (we're talking Zoo Tycoon or Sim City) before I could do anything but replay the awful day in my head. (Anxiety issues and OCD really don't help with situations like that.)
Then one day after a particularly nasty berating for something I didn't do, I got the news that a friend had died. That weekend, going to the funeral, I decided life was too short, came back on Monday, and quit. This was bad timing because I was already having my first career crash at that point. (Though I had no idea the crash had started -- I had two books coming out that year, three short stories, and a non-fiction article, the most I'd ever published in one year since my first book sold. This is often the way with career crashes, you're face-planted on the floor before you even know you're falling. A friend compared it to having a job where you get fired, and no one tells you. You just keep coming in every day and working, and only gradually realize that they aren't paying you anymore and no one wants you there.)
But I didn't know then that it would be four years before I sold another novel, so I quit. I was lucky because my husband had a good job and I was able to quit without starving when my sales dried up. (He's been laid off more times than I remember, but his superpower is literally interviewing and finding a new job. He should teach a class but I'm not sure he has any idea how he does it. His superpower has made my writing career possible. I just wish I had a better career so I could pay him back.)
Anyway, not sure what the point of this is, other then wow am I glad I quit that job.