Man, December 2021, what a time that was. Every single day, it felt like my brain was just spinning the same question over and over: “What in the world are you going to do about your career, Virgos?” Yeah, I know, Virgos are supposed to have it all figured out, neat and tidy, plans for everything. But trust me, back then, my career was anything but. It was a complete and utter mess, a tangled ball of yarn I just couldn’t straighten out.
I was in this job, right? It was fine on paper. Decent pay, stable company, all that good stuff everyone says you should want. But every morning, literally every morning, I’d wake up and just feel this heavy dread. Like, physically heavy. I’d drag myself out of bed, make the coffee, and sit down at the computer, and it was just… numb. I was pushing buttons, replying to emails, sitting in meetings, but it felt like I was watching someone else do it. My brain was checking out, big time. I mean, I’d clock in, do the work, and clock out, but my spirit was nowhere near it. It wasn’t just a bad day here or there; it was a constant, gnawing emptiness. Every task felt like climbing a mountain made of sand. I was just going through the motions, completely disconnected from what I was doing, and that for a Virgo, let me tell you, it’s torture. We thrive on purpose, on making things right, on doing something. And I was just… existing.
So, come December 2021, that feeling just intensified. The end of the year, right? Everyone’s talking about goals, about what they achieved, what they’re planning for next year. And all I could think was, “What did I achieve? More dread?” I remember sitting there one evening, trying to map out a “career growth plan” for the next year, just like my manager had asked. I had my trusty notebook, a fresh pen, all my Virgo tools ready to go. I started writing, and for literally an hour, all I had was “Quit.” Just that one word, scribbled over and over again on the page. It wasn’t a plan; it was a desperate plea from my own head. My gut was screaming at me. Every fiber of my being was saying, “This isn’t it, man. This is absolutely not it.” But then the logical Virgo brain kicked in, “What about the bills? What about stability? What if you fail?” It was a total internal war.
The turning point, I guess, happened right around the second week of December. We had this big team meeting, a “year-end wrap-up” kind of thing. Everyone was going around, sharing their big wins, talking about how excited they were for the new projects. And when it got to me, I just froze. I literally couldn’t come up with anything I was genuinely proud of. I mumbled something about “meeting deadlines” and “supporting the team,” super generic stuff. The manager smiled, but I could tell, even through the screen, that he saw right through me. And in that moment, something just clicked. It wasn’t a slow burn anymore; it was like a sudden, cold splash of water. I thought, “I cannot spend another year feeling like this.” That was it. That was the line in the sand.
I went home that day, or rather, I just logged off, and for the first time in ages, I didn’t just zone out. I started doing. First, I pulled out every single resume I’d ever made, every job application I’d saved from years ago. I printed them all out, spread them across my dining table. It looked like a crazy person’s conspiracy board. Then I grabbed a red pen, and I went through each one, circling things I hated, crossing out skills I never wanted to use again. It was cathartic, honestly. I was actively deciding what I didn’t want. And that felt like a huge step for a Virgo who usually tries to optimize for everything.
Next, I opened up a blank document and just started typing out everything that excited me, no matter how silly it seemed. Like, could I get paid to watch documentaries? Probably not. But the act of dreaming, of just letting my mind wander, felt incredibly liberating. I started reaching out to old contacts, people I hadn’t spoken to in years. I didn’t ask for a job; I just asked for chats, for insights into what they were doing, what their work felt like. I was just gathering information, planting seeds. I spent hours late into the night, scrolling through job boards, not just for my old industry, but for totally random stuff that even slightly caught my eye. I applied for things I was only 50% qualified for, just to see what would happen. Before, I would have perfected the resume for days. Now, it was just “send it, see what happens.” It was raw, it was messy, and it was completely unlike my usual M.O.
By the end of December, heading into the New Year, I had a couple of interviews lined up for completely different fields. I hadn’t even thought about them a month earlier. I hadn’t quit my old job yet, but the feeling of being stuck was gone. I was actively moving, actively exploring. The “What to do?” question shifted from a paralyzing dread to an exciting, open-ended question. It stopped being about “What if I fail?” and became “What if I actually find something I love?” It wasn’t about finding the perfect path right away, but about taking that first brave step away from the wrong one. And that, for my Virgo self, was a huge, huge victory. I knew then that whatever happened, staying put just wasn’t an option anymore.
