By Karen
Regular readers of my work probably notice I've resigned many times—this is my sixth time.
My last resignation was at age 29. For reference, please see the following video and article: "Age 29 / The Deeper You Know Yourself, the More Courageous You Become in Making Decisions and Accepting Rejection"
Two years later, let me talk about what happened between my fifth and sixth resignation, and why I chose to leave.
I've been in the media industry for six years now. During this time, I've worked in online media, public relations, and television media, in roles ranging from content editor to PR specialist, writer, and feature reporter. I've occasionally supported live streams and news broadcasts as part of company assignments—not quite professional, but I have broadcasting experience. This was my full-time job.
Whether driven by passion or simply having become someone who can't stop, I also founded a "cross-disciplinary knowledge community," published the book Life Is Not a Multiple Choice Question, and launched online courses like "High-Efficiency Writing Skills" and "High-Efficiency Copywriting for Book Summaries". Not only that, the cross-disciplinary community I created hosted large-scale events, with up to 20 activities per month. Everyone says my life has been on cheat mode, but nobody knows how much blood, sweat, and tears it cost...
Long-time followers also know that my 700,000 NT in student loans from years ago were completely paid off by early this year, with 500,000 NT of that paid off last year alone.
People often ask me: why must you resign?
Honestly, my full-time job was really great. But I felt caught between stalled growth and confused thinking.
I submitted my resignation while crying. It's embarrassing to admit, but after so many years in the working world, I still accidentally shed tears in front of my boss. This time, I managed to hold back for over thirty minutes.
"What do you mean by growth?" my boss asked me.
I was momentarily at a loss for words, struggling to articulate it. This is what I wrote in my resignation letter:
When I was a feature reporter, I could confidently meet the interviewees I loved, have conversations with them, and exchange experiences
When I was Karen the young woman, I could become life partners with entrepreneurs I admired and people I respected
When I was a cross-disciplinary founder, I carried various responsibilities—to myself, to my team, and to my subscribers
I was so cautious, yet this also revealed an identity conflict.
Back in October last year, I mentioned to a CEO friend, "I feel like I have to resign because my identity is conflicted." He thought about it for a moment and agreed with what I said.
The conflict lies in this: in my full-time work, I didn't hold a management position. Media work also lacked cross-departmental collaboration, and content production didn't need to worry about performance or revenue—just focus on creating good content.
When it comes to "focusing on creating good content," growth can be big or small. You might find a great story topic and feel you've done the right thing because of good click rates, thus feeling a sense of growth. You might also find a great interviewee and learn a lot from them, but you'll also discover that it's their life and their achievements—what you're doing is simply documenting others' accomplishments.
Over time, as the industry became rigid, stable, and mature, the freshness I once felt gradually faded. My excitement and passion for news events slowly diminished in this boiling-frog atmosphere, and sadly, I found I could no longer return to that environment and work pressure.
The outside world's perception of "creating good content" is actually quite practical. Whenever I've wanted to switch career paths, the most direct criticism was: "No commercial experience."
Compared to standing on stage, I much prefer and am better suited to being a strategic planner.
But as I mentioned, in my other identity as "Karen the young woman," this is something I do have. Many people reach out for collaborations, some offer prices for negotiation. I need to prepare proposals, provide quotes, sign contracts, and service clients back and forth multiple times until the project is successfully completed, creating a successful business case. However, this experience only works for individuals.
When I'm "founder of the cross-disciplinary knowledge community," I have a great team of partners, engaged subscribers, and I need to build systems, maintain culture and values to ensure user experience stays true to our original vision. Of course, it's been quite difficult along the way. When leading a team, you need to let go of yourself and balance what decisions are best for the organization's development. With users' various requests and "suggestions," we try our best to address and adjust our perspective. But with everyone having a say, even just 60 people can affect your emotions.
Comparing my full-time job to the cross-disciplinary knowledge community, you see that in my regular job, "I only need to focus on doing my own work well"; in the community, "I need to let go of myself." These two conflicting thought patterns and identities created enormous contradictions for me. Coupled with my sensitive personality, over more than a year, my body and mind couldn't handle it—I ended up doing neither thing well...
Weighing the options, I chose to let go of "journalist," my former ideal. This sixth resignation wasn't easy. I now understand more deeply that if any company wants me to join them, I'm simply not ready. This time, I'm not going anywhere—I'm going to stay in my own life and work hard.
I also want to deeply thank the many brilliant entrepreneur friends who have encouraged and advised me along the way, and who have been my strongest supporters and backbone.
With everyone's genuine support, I can finally open my heart to the world.
I'm truly fortunate.
