The Self-Exit Playbook
For anyone quietly planning their escape from a job that no longer serves them.
I've been thinking about that Forbes article—the one about how economic uncertainty is keeping people trapped in jobs they've outgrown, jobs that drain them, jobs that feel like slow-motion suffocation.
The comments section told the real story. Person after person writing some version of: "I know I should leave, but..."
But the mortgage. But the healthcare. But the market. But the unknown.
Here's what I want you to know: There's a difference between staying and being stuck. One is a choice. The other is a prison you've built with your own hands.
This isn't a dramatic manifesto. It's not a quit-your-job-right-now kind of guide. It's a way to reclaim power, one quiet decision at a time.
If you're still showing up, still trying to talk yourself into staying, still making little bargains with your own exhaustion—this is for you.
Because deep down, past all the engagement surveys and "culture" campaigns, you already know when it's over. You're just scared to say it out loud.
So let's start there.
STEP ONE: Name the Truth
Say it out loud: "This isn't working anymore."
Not to your boss. Not to HR. Not even to your partner yet. Just to yourself. In your car. In the shower. On a walk around the block.
Because until you name it, you'll keep gaslighting yourself. You'll keep making those little deals with your nervous system: One more quarter. One more reorganization. One more leadership change. Maybe if I just...
Stop. Say it plain: This job is costing me more than it gives.
The relief you feel when you finally say it? That's not weakness. That's clarity knocking.
STEP TWO: Audit Your Constraints
Why are you staying? Get specific.
Write it down:
I need this paycheck to cover my mortgage
I can't lose this health insurance with my medical condition
The job market feels impossible right now
I don't want to abandon my team during a critical project
I'm afraid I'll seem unreliable if I leave too soon
I have no idea what else I'd even want to do
No shame here. Constraints are real. But here's the thing: most of them feel infinite until you actually name them. And once they're named? You can start solving for them.
That paycheck you can't lose? How much runway would three months of savings give you? That health insurance? What would COBRA cost, really? That terrible job market? What if you started testing it quietly while you still have stability?
Constraints become problems. Problems get solutions.
STEP THREE: Define What You Actually Want
If you weren't here, where would you be?
Not just the job title. The feeling. The daily texture of a better work life.
Do you want:
A manager who actually develops people instead of managing through fear?
Work that energizes you instead of slowly grinding you down?
Colleagues who collaborate instead of compete?
Projects that use your strengths instead of exploiting your willingness to do thankless work?
A commute that doesn't steal two hours of your life every day?
Name the real ingredients. Not the fantasy job—the actual conditions that would make you excited to start your week.
This isn't about finding perfection. It's about knowing what you're building toward.
STEP FOUR: Build Your Runway
If you left six months from now, what would need to be true?
Your runway checklist:
Financial buffer: Even $2,000 changes your negotiation position
Updated story: A resume that makes sense of your experience
Warm connections: Three people who'd take your call about opportunities
Mental exit script: A narrative you believe about why you're leaving
Practical logistics: Healthcare transition plan, reference list, project handoff notes
That's your runway. You don't have to leap into the void. You have to build a bridge.
And if your runway needs to be a year long because of your specific constraints? Fine. You're still moving toward something instead of just enduring. That changes everything.
STEP FIVE: Say It to Someone Else
Find one person you trust completely. Say: "I think I need to leave this job. I'm not asking for advice right now. I just need to say it out loud."
Because silence makes you feel crazy. Like maybe it's just you. Maybe you're being dramatic. Maybe everyone else has figured out how to be happy here and you're the problem.
You're not the problem. You're waking up.
And hearing someone else say "I get it" or "That makes complete sense" can be the difference between staying for another miserable year and building your way out with clarity and intention.
STEP SIX: Start Taking Micro-Actions
You don't need to quit to start acting like someone who's planning to leave well.
This week:
Schedule one networking coffee with someone whose career you admire
Update your LinkedIn headline to reflect what you actually do
Ask a colleague for a recommendation while your relationship is still warm
Start a "wins" document tracking projects you're proud of
Clean up your personal files (yes, including those memes in your downloads folder)
Motion is the antidote to dread. Every small action is proof that you have agency, even when everything feels stuck.
STEP SEVEN: Plan Your Exit With Integrity, Not Emotion
Don't rage-quit. Don't burn bridges. Don't wait until you hate everyone and everything.
Leave before you're bitter. Leave before your confidence is too low to write a decent cover letter. Leave while you can still look people in the eye and say, "This was good until it wasn't, and I'm grateful for what I learned here."
The goal isn't revenge. It's freedom. And freedom means leaving clean.
STEP EIGHT: Remember Who You Were Before This Job
You were already whole before you started here. Already capable. Already interesting. Already worthy of work that doesn't make you dread Sunday nights.
This job didn't create your value. So it doesn't get to destroy it.
Remember the person who applied with optimism? Who had ideas and energy and hope? That version of you still exists. They just need help getting back to the surface.
REMINDER (on loop): You Don't Owe Forever to Anything That No Longer Feeds You
Not to a boss who's forgotten how to see your potential. Not to a company that treats people like expense line items. Not to a role that's become too small for who you're becoming.
The world didn't give you your spark. So it doesn't get to keep it.
You can leave. Quietly or boldly. Strategically or spontaneously. With six months of planning or six weeks of hustle.
You're not breaking a promise to them.
You're keeping one to yourself.