The first time of my life was in my early 20s. Studying and working abroad with a bunch of world citizens, breaking out of the every day life. I remember the feeling returning to my university hometown after more than one year. The cashier at my local supermarket was still the same, sitting at the checkout all the time I was away and had the time of my life.
18 months later I went into my next adventure. I boarded a plane to a country I had never been to to set up a new life. No flat. No job. Little money. Sleepless nights.
The job came along and grabbed all my attention for almost 10 years. I burned out. I took time out and after some initial struggles and confusion about what life is about, who I am, what I want and how I got into this situation and if I should resign from the job, I thoroughly enjoyed the second half of my break. I lived. I slept. I laughed.
Last week I returned to work and regret everything. After two days I contemplated resigning again. Savings would keep me going for a good year. But the savings were supposed to go into my property. Health is more important. I want to be happy. Resign?
I give it another week. Another chance.