I’m telling you, I was absolutely drowning back in September 2023. Not in a metaphorical sense, but my bank account looked like a desert, and my job felt like I was spending eight hours a day chewing sand. I’d been plugging away at the same gig for seven years. I won’t name the place, but let’s just say their management style was ‘micromanage until morale is zero, then fire the lowest-paid person.’
What I Was Desperate to Escape
Every single morning, I would drag myself out of bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out how to stretch one miserable paycheck just far enough to cover the rent and maybe a cheap pizza. I was in a massive rut. I tried everything to change the situation internally. I wrote up three different proposals on how to streamline our outdated reporting process. I requested two meetings with my direct supervisor to discuss a clear promotion track. I documented all the insane workflow bottlenecks that were making everyone miserable. And guess what? Nothing.
They looked right through me. They even cut my paltry bonus that year, saying the company’s Q3 performance was “flat.” Flat! Then I saw the internal memo the next week about how they bought the CEO a new luxury SUV as a ‘perk.’ That’s how much they valued my ‘flat’ work. I was ready to walk into the ocean, figuratively speaking. I felt trapped. I was totally stuck, grinding my teeth every Sunday night dreading Monday morning.
Then came the final insult. They hired a consultant—some twenty-five-year-old kid fresh out of business school—to “optimize” our workflow. He didn’t know a thing about our actual work, but he started implementing ridiculous new meeting structures and mandatory daily check-ins on a system that barely functioned. I pushed back, politely at first, pointing out that his changes were actually slowing us down by 20%. My reward? My supervisor pulled me aside and said I needed to show more “team spirit” and “conformity.” That was the moment. I knew I had to get out, but I lacked the guts to just walk away with zero backup plan.
The Dumb Decision I Made
Now, I’m a Virgo. I’m supposed to be logical, grounded, and hate all that woo-woo stuff. My entire life is built on spreadsheets and facts. But I was so desperate, so completely out of options and so defeated that one evening in late September, sitting at my kitchen table, I finally typed in “Virgo career horoscope October 2023.” I know, I know. Judge me all you want. I was hitting rock bottom.
I clicked the first thing I saw. And this thing didn’t pull any punches. It said something like, “October demands a radical pivot. You must sever a stagnant tie to allow new growth. The risk is high, but the reward is necessary. Hesitation now means stagnation for years.” I read it three times. It was like some cosmic finger was pointing right at my miserable spreadsheet job and yelling, Quit! My logical brain fought it, but the part of me that was sick of being undervalued finally snapped.
The Real, Scary Process of Acting
I didn’t just think about it; I actually acted on that garbage horoscope. It gave me the permission I needed. I sat down on October 2nd, and I typed out the resignation letter. It was two sentences. I walked into the HR manager’s office—the one who always looked at me like I was a piece of lint—and I slammed it down.
When she started listing all the benefits I was throwing away, all the “security,” and how many people would love to have my job, I just shook my head and walked right out. I didn’t even clean off my desk. I just gathered my keys and jacket and left that building for the last time.
The immediate feeling was two-fold: pure, terrifying freedom and absolute panic. I spent the next 72 hours freaking out. What did I just do? I threw away my only income source based on a website that uses pictures of moons to predict my destiny. My spouse was supportive, but I knew the pressure was now entirely on me.
I immediately went into hustler mode. I had zero days to waste. My practice record for that critical month looked like this:
- The first thing I did was call my best friend and confess the whole, ridiculous reason I quit. He laughed, then promised to lend me some cash if I needed it, which bought me psychological breathing room.
- Second, I scraped together every portfolio piece I had ever worked on over those seven years—the stuff they rejected, the stuff they butchered, the stuff I did on my own time. I compiled it into a hasty online presentation.
- Third, I started a complete cold-call and cold-email campaign. I wasn’t applying for jobs on public boards. That’s for suckers. I identified five small, successful companies in my niche that actually seemed happy and I emailed the founders/owners directly, not HR.
- Fourth, I spent hours reworking my pitch. I stopped selling my time and started selling solutions to specific problems I noticed those small companies probably had.
The Outcome That Shut Me Up
The whole ‘risk is necessary’ thing ended up being true, not because of the stars or the alignment of Jupiter, but because the sheer terror of having no money forced me to hustle harder than I ever had before. That October, I went from a zombie waiting for 5 PM to a frantic entrepreneur working eighteen hours a day. I didn’t have time to be a ‘logical Virgo’ anymore; I had to be a ‘surviving human.’
By the third week of October, one of those owners I cold-emailed—a dude running a small but busy digital workshop—called me back. He wasn’t looking for a full-time employee, but he threw me three separate contract gigs right away. Three! They paid more hourly than my old salary, and I could do them from my kitchen table.
I worked every single day that month and into November. I didn’t get much sleep, but I finished all three projects by the end of November, and I didn’t just make rent; I paid off that ancient credit card debt that was hanging over me. I gained three professional references who actually saw my best work.
I learned the hard way that sometimes you need an external push, even a completely ridiculous one like a horoscope, to give you the permission you need to torch your own life and start over. I went from being stuck in one cubicle, begging for a raise, to running my own small contract shop with multiple clients in two months. And all because some silly website told a logical Virgo to make a big move in October 2023. I still don’t read horoscopes, but I won’t lie: the timing was perfect, and I went for it. That big move wasn’t about the job I found; it was about the job I dared to leave. The practice wasn’t reading the stars, the practice was actually taking the jump.
