Knowing when to leave is a skill and a strength
There’s a kind of silence that settles in right before you leave something that no longer fits. It’s not as pressurised as burnout or urgent like a breakdown. Instead, it’s a quiet, deep knowing that says: “This isn’t right for me anymore”.
I’ve felt that hum before, more than once. And yet, I’ve stayed out of obligation, loyalty and a fear that leaving would make me look weak or ungrateful. We don’t always get clear, clean endings in life. More often, the signs that it’s time to go are subtle: the shrinking, the sighing and the sense that you’re performing a version of yourself that no longer feels true.
We don’t talk about leaving enough. Not just how to leave, but when, why, and what it says about us when we do. We’ve been taught that staying is noble, that quitting is failure and that endurance is a virtue. But staying too long in the wrong place doesn’t just cost you time. It can cost you your confidence, peace and joy. And sometimes even your sense of who you are.
The lie we’re sold about quitting
From early on, most of us are conditioned to equate quitting with giving up. It’s the narrative that gets baked into school, sports, and the workplace: See it through. Push through. Stick it out. Be loyal. Be resilient. But in my opinion, loyalty without reciprocity isn’t noble. It’s self-abandonment. And resilience, when misapplied, becomes martyrdom.
Work culture glorifies those who stay no matter what; those who ignore their intuition, who absorb mistreatment, who make themselves smaller to fit the container they’ve outgrown. We praise tenacity, even when it’s quietly destroying someone from the inside. But we really need to reframe that and understand that leaving isn’t the same as flakiness. Instead let’s look at it as a form of self-honesty and bravery.
Staying small doesn’t serve you
You can be good at your job, respected by your peers, even praised by your boss, but still feel like the version of you showing up each day is a watered-down version of your full self.
Maybe you’ve outgrown the role, or the culture has shifted, or something inside you just wants different. But you tell yourself: It’s fine. I should be grateful. It’s not that bad.
That script is powerful, especially for women and people of colour. We’re taught to be grateful, to hold on to the opportunity, not to rock the boat. We feel the pressure to prove ourselves again and again, even in places that were never designed for us to thrive.
But you don’t owe anyone your discontent.
A 2022 McKinsey study found that employees most likely to leave were those who didn’t feel valued or like they belonged, and nearly half didn’t even have another job lined up. On the surface, there’s nothing surprising about that, but if we look deeper, it tells us something else: people aren’t just walking away from jobs. They’re walking toward something they believe (or hope) is more aligned with who they are.
Leaving well is powerful
There’s a power in leaving well. Not burning bridges, but building boundaries. Not exiting in chaos, but exiting with clarity.
It reminds me of when Jacinda Ardern stepped down as Prime Minister of New Zealand. She said, “I know what this job takes, and I know I no longer have enough in the tank to do it justice.” She didn’t over-explain or crumble, she simply told the truth.
That’s what leaving well looks like.
It’s not just about ending something. It’s about honouring what it was and making space for what’s next. And truthfully? Most of us could stand to get better at endings. We know how to begin. We know how to endure. But ending something with dignity, care, and purpose? That’s the real skill.
So how do you know when it’s time?
Not every role, project, or partnership needs to last forever. Some things are meant to be chapters, not lifetimes. But how do you tell the difference between a rough patch and the end of the road?
Here are a few reflection questions to sit with:
Am I staying because I want to or because I’m afraid to go?
What version of myself does this place bring out in me?
Who am I trying to prove something to?
What would “leaving well” look like - practically, emotionally, and financially?
The answers aren’t always immediate or obvious. But when they come, trust them. That quiet instinct you’ve been feeling? It might be wisdom. It might even be the knock of your next chapter.
Final thoughts
You’re allowed to want more. You’re allowed to change your mind. And you’re allowed to leave something that no longer fits, even if it once did.
But if you're going to leave, leave well.
Not with chaos or shame. But with clarity, courage and a plan that honours who you are and what you need next.
I’ve left roles well. I’ve left them messily. I’ve stayed too long and left too soon. And through all of that - and through countless conversations with friends, colleagues, and clients - I’ve realised that most of us were never taught how to do endings well.
That’s why I created Leave With Purpose.
It’s a mindful but practical toolkit to guide you through every step of a thoughtful transition, from the first quiet nudge that something’s off, through the logistics of resigning, to the emotional work of letting go and moving forward.
Because working well means living honestly. Even when it means walking away.
Explore the Leave With Purpose toolkit here: www.thisisworkwell.com/leave
