By Karen
Regular readers probably noticed I've resigned many times already—this is my sixth time.
My previous resignation was at 29, which you can find in this video and article: "29 Years Old / The Deeper You Understand Yourself, the Braver You Can Refuse and Accept Being Refused"
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 which I've worked in online media, PR, and television. My roles have included social media editor, PR specialist, writer, and feature reporter. I've also filled in for livestreams and news broadcasting—not exactly professional, but I do have the experience. This was my full-time job.
Whether driven by passion or just a life that can't stop moving, during this period I also founded an "interdisciplinary knowledge community," published the book Life Is Not a Multiple Choice Question, and launched online courses like High-Efficiency Writing Skills and High-Efficiency Book Note Writing Course. Not only that, the community I created has hosted large-scale events, with as many as 20 events per month. Everyone says my life is on cheat mode, but they don't know the blood, sweat, and tears behind it...
Friends who have followed me for a while know that my student loans of 700,000 yuan that plagued me for years have been fully repaid as of this year, especially with 500,000 paid off over the past year.
I'm often asked why I must resign.
Honestly, my full-time job was really great. But I felt the conflict between stagnating growth and confused thinking.
I cried when I submitted my resignation. It's embarrassing to admit that after so many years in the workforce, I still tear up in front of my supervisor, but this time I managed to hold back for over thirty minutes.
"What do you mean by growth?" my supervisor asked me.
I was at a loss for words, not knowing how to explain. This is what I wrote in my resignation letter:
When I was a feature reporter, I could confidently meet interviewees I liked, have conversations with them, and discuss their experiences.
When I was Karen the Maverick, I could become life partners with entrepreneurs I liked and people I admired.
When I was an interdisciplinary founder, I had all sorts of responsibilities—to myself, to my team, to my subscribers.
I was so careful, yet it also revealed the conflict in my identities.
As early as October last year, I mentioned to a CEO friend, "I feel I must resign; the identity conflict is too great." He thought about it and agreed with what I was saying.
The conflict lies in the fact that at my full-time job, I wasn't in a management position. Media work also lacked cross-departmental collaboration, and the content production side didn't need to worry about performance or revenue—just focus on creating good content.
In "just focusing on creating good content," growth can be big or small. You can find good topics and feel accomplished when they get views, thus experiencing growth. You can also find great interviewees and learn much from them, but you'll also realize those are their lives and achievements, not yours. What you do is record others' accomplishments.
Over time, as the industry solidified, stabilized, and matured, the initial freshness faded. The excitement and passion I felt toward news events gradually diminished in this boiling-frog atmosphere, and more tragically, I realized I could no longer handle returning to that environment and work pressure.
Outside perspectives on "creating good content" are quite pragmatic. Whenever I considered switching career paths, the most direct impact was "no business experience."
Compared to standing on stage, I prefer and am better suited to being a strategy planner.
But as I mentioned, as "Karen the Maverick," I did have this. Many people reached out for collaborations, offering prices for negotiation. I needed to make proposals, provide quotes, sign contracts, serve clients multiple times back and forth, and ultimately deliver successful results—these became business case studies. However, these experiences only work for individuals.
When I became "founder of the interdisciplinary knowledge community," I had wonderful teammates and engaged subscribers. For the organization's development, I needed to establish systems, maintain culture and values, and ensure user experience aligned with our original vision. Of course, it was quite difficult. When leading a team, you must let go of yourself and balance what decisions best serve the organization's growth. For users' various requests and "suggestions," we try our best to address them and adjust perspectives, but with many voices, even 60 people can affect your emotions.
Comparing my full-time job to the interdisciplinary community, you'll notice that at my job, "I only need to focus on doing my own work well"; in the community, "I need to let go of myself." These two different mindsets and identities created a great contradiction for me. Given my sensitive nature, over the past year, my body and mind couldn't sustain it. In fact, I ended up doing neither thing well...
After weighing everything, I chose to let go of "journalist"—a dream I once held. My sixth resignation wasn't easy, and I now know that if any company wants to hire me, I'm simply not available for a while. This time, I'm not going anywhere else. I'm staying in my own life, working hard for myself.
I'm also deeply grateful to many brilliant entrepreneurial friends along the way who encouraged and advised me, and most importantly, became my strongest supporters and backbone.
With everyone's genuine care, I can open my heart to the world.
I'm truly fortunate.
