But there I was—emotionally drained and mentally exhausted. I felt like Artie in Shrek the Third, being shoved toward a throne I never wanted. I was expected to take on a role I wasn’t prepared for. Worse still, a role I was unsupported in. “Oh but the roles are just so closely aligned.” Bollo.
I was being pushed into a job I wasn’t comfortable with. It wasn’t just the workload. THAT, I can deal with. It was the whole damn thing. The role was forced. I wasn’t strong enough to say no. It had been less than a year since I started. It was like I was trying to fit into shoes that didn’t belong to me. No one cared if they pinched or left blisters.
The worst part? I had zero support.
The Pressure to Stay
I remember the early days when the shift toward this new role started happening. It wasn’t framed as a choice. It was subtle—“We think you’d be great at this,” and “This is the logical next step.” There was pressure to say yes, to be the team player, to just smile and nod.
But inside? I was screaming. This wasn’t what I wanted. It wasn’t even something I felt remotely ready for.
Despite that, I tried to make it work. I took matters into my hands. I started an ITIL course. This was my way of filling the gaps. I wanted to prove to myself, and maybe them, that I can do this. That I wasn’t just flailing. That I was trying.
But no one noticed. Or maybe they did. They certainly didn’t seem to act like they cared.
No Support, Just Expectations
The IT department staff were genuinely helpful. They are the people who answer questions without judgment. They understand that not everyone knows every system like the back of their hand.
But the business? The leadership?
Radio silence.
No real support structure existed. No one pulled me aside to ask how I was managing. There was no guidance or mentorship. Just expectations. Deadlines. Pressure. Changes of direction.
And I felt like I was drowning.
The Artie Moment
If you’ve seen Shrek the Third, you’ll get it. Artie’s this kid who’s suddenly told he’s next in line to be king. No one asks if he wants it. They just expect him to step up and figure it out.
That was me. Being pushed into this role, everyone assuming I’d just make it work, while inside I was thinking, “This isn’t me. I’m not supposed to be here.”
The difference is, Artie eventually steps into his power. I realized that for me, stepping into my power meant walking away.
Choosing Myself Over the Job
The breaking point came slowly—like water dripping onto a stone until it finally cracks. I realised that every day I stayed, I was chipping away at my own mental health. I was sacrificing my happiness for a job that didn’t care about me.
And the scariest part? I was starting to believe that maybe I wasn’t good enough. Maybe the critical voice in my head was right. It had been with me since childhood, whispering that I was never first, never enough.
But then something shifted. I thought about everything I’d been through. The sobriety. The trauma. The strength it took to get here. And I realized: I didn’t get sober to live like this.
So, I quit.
The Aftermath
Walking away felt both terrifying and liberating. There was no applause. No one rushed in to say, “We should have supported you more.” Actually it was quite a confusing conversation. “We are thinking of changing the structure” conversation. We thought of it just now, you know, when you said “here’s my resignation”.
But inside? I felt lighter. Like I had taken back control of my own life. I cried, don’t get me wrong. Yet lighter I did feel.
I wasn’t going to let a job—any job—break me.
And in that moment, I stopped feeling like Artie being forced into a crown. I started feeling like someone who chose their own path.
If You’re Feeling This Too
You deserve more. You deserve support. And most importantly, you deserve to choose your own path.
I did. And I’m still standing.
Have you ever walked away from a job that was breaking you? Or stayed longer than you should’ve? Let me know in the comments. We’ve all been there, and it helps to talk about it.
Not For Me, Thanks 
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