This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Heigi Jeong. It has been edited for length and clarity.
People often assume that I quit my six-figure job in product design because of severe burnout or an existential crisis, but that wasn’t the case.
I moved from Korea to Toronto in 2020 as an in-house product designer for a tech company, often creating mobile apps and websites.
The paycheck was great — I was making about $173,000 to do a job that allowed me to have a fairly healthy work-life balance. I wasn’t working 80 hours per week. Most weeks, I clocked about 40 hours, working mostly 9 to 5. Since my income was more than enough to live on, I was also able to travel when I had time off, never needing to worry about money or budgets.
I decided to quit my job
While I wouldn’t say I loved the work, I liked it. The job was about making logical decisions, and then convincing stakeholders of my decisions through storytelling.
It was my dream job as an immigrant, and it was sustainable. I could have carried on working it, but I had also been doing content creation on the side and had just signed a book deal. There weren’t enough hours in the day to do all three. It would have been like having three full-time jobs.
Courtesy of Heigi Jeong
Debating which one to let go of, I decided to quit the most stable of the three — product design. Writing a book was very important to me, and I knew content creation would support the promotion of the book.
But I was hesitant to abandon my only employed source of work. The thought was really scary. I remember having so much anxiety in the weeks leading up to my resignation in June 2026.
Was it a mistake to leave a consistent paycheck in the middle of economic uncertainty? Would I be able to re-enter the market should I change my mind?
I’m working for myself for a year
I made a deal with myself to try and quell the anxiety that this was a permanent decision. For one year, I’d work for myself — pursuing content creation and book writing — and then I’d decide if I wanted to go back to the corporate world.
Sure, I might not be able to go back to the same company or make the same salary if I choose to return, but I have a résumé with lots of examples of my work should I decide to return to being a product designer.
Since resigning, every morning, I cycle to a gym and work out, and then head to an office and write from noon until 5 p.m. I fit in content creation throughout the day.
I’m hoping to take my writing on the road and travel this year too.
I’m rushing less
Rushing less, I feel like I’m existing more in the world, noticing myself and the world around me, choosing what I want to fill my time with.
I had saved money, had a supportive partner, and knew it was possible on a practical level to give up my salary. But it hasn’t been easy financially. Content creation payments are inconsistent. In July, I only made $6 because there was a delay in the content creation payment system. I’ve had portions of my book advance, but the income from my self-employment fluctuates a lot. Some months, I earn zero dollars and other months, I earn even more than I used to in my 9 to 5.
I’ve had to mentally adapt to inconsistent pay, and rather than viewing it as a threat, seeing it as the reality of self-employment.
Another difficulty has been setting boundaries. I could work 24 hours a day as my own boss because there is always more I can do. When I was employed, I’d shut my computer at the end of the day and be done. But being self-employed, my mind is always ticking over about work. I’ve had to get strict with myself to ensure I do have breaks.
Three months in, I’m nearly always confident that I made the right decision to take this year out, though I do sometimes get shaken for a short time when people online tell me I’ve made a huge error.
If I hadn’t taken this chance to pursue another dream of working for myself, I would have regretted it.
But who knows what will come of it.
Even if I do return to the corporate world, this year wouldn’t have been a mistake. I would have had the experience of leaving something that felt nice and stable for the unknown. That’s a lesson I think is important to have learned.
