I want to. I really do.
There’s a button. It’s always there. Right in front of me. Big. Obvious. Labelled clearly — Quit. And some days I stare at it longer than I should.
The LinkedIn Illusion
Left isn’t working. Right isn’t either. I’ve been applying for jobs on LinkedIn and slowly coming to the conclusion that a significant portion of what’s advertised there simply doesn’t exist. Ghost jobs. Corporate theatre. You pour your energy into applications that disappear into the void while the platform floods your feed with someone’s gratitude post for a promotion they got at a company that laid off three hundred people the same week.
Everyone on LinkedIn is fine, by the way. Everyone is thriving. Everyone is excited to share that they’ve been humbled and grateful and blessed to announce. There are memes about this. LinkedIn Speak is its own dialect — I didn’t make that up.
Built Everything Except a Client Base
Meanwhile I’m here. Registered business. Built the website. Got the name — JTCreative. I can build you a website, automate half your workflow, and probably deploy an AI agent before lunch. What I apparently cannot do is convince someone to pay me for it. I am genuinely, spectacularly good at building things and catastrophically bad at making people notice.
So. Can I quit?
I wish I could say no immediately. I wish I had that kind of resolve. But I’d be lying. The honest answer is that the thought sits with me. It follows me around. You could just stop. Put it down. Rest. Let someone else figure this out.
I Already Know What This Season Is
The problem is I already wrote about this. Over on Beyond Salvation I wrote about how it was good that I was afflicted — and I meant every word. I still mean it. Losing the job cracked something open in me that needed to be cracked. I was becoming someone I didn’t recognise. Arrogant. Entitled. Lying to myself about what I wanted and why.
So I know what this season is. I’m not confused about it. But knowing why something is hard doesn’t make it less hard. Understanding the furnace doesn’t mean it isn’t hot.
Seven Times
I keep going back to something my Father wrote — not my biological father. I mean the Bible. The righteous fall seven times and rise again: Proverbs 24:16. Seven times. That’s not a glitch in the system. That’s the system. You fall. You get up. You fall again. You get up again. Repeat until something changes.
The Button Is Still There
I haven’t quit because I can’t. Not won’t — can’t. There’s a vision I’ve been carrying that is too big to put down. It would be easier if it were smaller. If I just wanted a stable salary and a desk near a window, I could grieve that dream for a week and move on. But the thing I’m building toward — the thing I believe God showed me — doesn’t fit in a resignation letter.
I'm a Distracted Genius. Not a Quitting Genius.
That’s not inspiration. That’s just the truth of it. The button is still there. I still see it. I’m just not pressing it.
Not today.