Keep your 9-5 and still find fulfillment
What if the exhaustion you feel isn’t just about your job, but about the fact that it’s become your whole world? What if the answer isn’t quitting, but learning to build a life outside of work, one filled with passion, purpose, and the things that truly make you feel alive?
Instead of shaping minds, I filed reports. Instead of purpose, I had quotas. I performed well, but every day, I felt like I was being hollowed out.
I never planned on becoming a teacher, but life, as it often does, had other ideas. One unexpected turn led to another, and before I knew it, I had stepped into a role that just fit. Teaching didn’t make me rich, but it gave me something better: freedom, purpose, and the satisfaction of knowing my work mattered. (Read: A retrospective look at Mondays as a language instructor, 2023)
Then I moved to France for good, this time. A fresh start, I thought. A chance to reinvent myself. But reinvention turned out to be less romantic than I had imagined. Teaching was no longer an option, at least the way I had known and loved. And bills don’t wait for dreams to sort themselves out.
So, I pivoted. I stayed in education and took a job that felt close enough. It was stable, respectful, and familiar. But the passion was gone. Instead of shaping minds, I filed reports. Instead of purpose, I had quotas. I performed well, but every day, I felt like I was being hollowed out. (Read: How I got a job offer in France, 2021)
Burnout doesn’t hit like a lightning bolt; it creeps in, slow and silent, until one day, you wake up and realize you don’t recognize yourself anymore.
When I finally sought help (Read: I needed help, so I sought help, 2022), I sat across from a psychologist and laid out my plan: I would quit.
I expected agreement, validation, and maybe even encouragement. Instead, he asked, And then what?
"Something else. Something that makes me feel alive."
He studied me for a moment, then said something that stopped me cold:
"Why do you assume quitting is the only way to do that?"
That question rattled me. Because, honestly? I didn’t have an answer. What did I actually miss? What was I really chasing?
I sat with it for a while before the truth surfaced. It wasn’t about the job. It was about me. I wanted to contribute to something bigger than myself. I wanted to create, to build, to make a difference.
And that’s when I realized something the French seemed to understand better than I did: a job is just one part of life. It doesn’t have to define you.
In France, people work to live, not the other way around. Their lives outside of work are what make life fulfilling. They have hobbies, stay active, and engage in their communities. Most people I meet have at least one sport they practice — something I admire but have yet to fully embrace myself. I did try climbing for a while, and I’m finally deciding to go back soon after my bad fall in 2024.
Beyond sports, culture and the arts are deeply integrated into daily life. Theatre, cinema, museums, concerts - many of these are either subsidized by unions or are for free (at the very least, affordable), making them easily accessible. There are writing workshops, knitting circles, painting classes, and pottery studios. Language exchanges, community-organized soirées, weekend excursions… once you tap into these, you realize that there’s far more to life than the 9-to-5. (Read: Quick thoughts while painting (with numbers), 2023)
Trying out the ceramic painting café in Paris with P
And then there’s vacation. In France, paid leave isn’t a luxury; it’s a right. By law, full-time employees get a minimum of 30 vacation days per year, accrued at a rate of 2.5 days per month worked. That’s not including public holidays. People use their vacation time, taking long summer breaks or multiple trips throughout the year. It’s a stark contrast to the culture of glorified overwork I had known before (I used to work 7 days a week, which includes volunteer work).
But I also recognize that this mindset and this level of security isn’t a universal reality. France has strong labor protections, and once you have a CDI (Contrat à Durée Indéterminée, or permanent contract), you’re nearly untouchable. Losing your job is difficult, and unemployment benefits are generous. That kind of stability makes it easier to separate work from identity.
In many other places, this simply isn’t the case. In countries like the Philippines, where I used to work, job security is scarce, and a steady paycheck is the difference between survival and struggle. Working to live isn’t always a choice - it’s a necessity. There, and in many parts of the world, the idea of building a life outside of work is a privilege not everyone can afford. It’s a mentality I’ve grown up with and is quite hard to unlearn and let go.
“Nuanced-self” free hand watercoloring in 2023
Still, what I’ve learned applies across circumstances: even when quitting isn’t an option, even when financial security is fragile, finding something outside of work that brings joy, no matter how small, can be life-changing. It might not be a month-long summer vacation or leisurely evenings at the theatre, but it could be a creative hobby, a weekly gathering with friends, or a physical activity that clears the mind. It’s not about work never being exhausting or overwhelming. It’s about making sure that work isn’t everything.
Instead of quitting, I made a small but radical shift. I started filling my life with things that lit me up. I carved out time not just for my job but for me. I let my interests take up space. I tried new things, embraced old hobbies, and stopped waiting for work to be my sole source of fulfillment.
And something shifted. My job stopped feeling like a trap. It became the thing that gave me the stability to pursue what I loved on my terms.
Eventually, I left that job, convinced the next one would be the one. It wasn’t. Neither was the one after that. Three jobs in four years taught me the same lesson in different ways:
No perfect job exists. There is only the life you build around it.
Today, I have a job allowing me to live beyond what I’m paid to do. It’s imperfect, but it gives me time, flexibility, and space to create. On the best days, I remind myself of this:
I never had to quit to feel alive.
I just had to start living.