I’d been working with a client for almost two years who left every interaction feeling faintly worse about myself and my work. Not cruel, not dramatic, just consistently undermining in the small ways that are hard to name and harder to justify ending something over. I kept telling myself it was fine. It was steady income. I could handle it.
I ended the contract in March. The first week after felt financially anxious and also oddly light, like I’d been slightly hunched for two years without noticing and had finally straightened up. A better project came in six weeks later. I don’t think the universe rewarded me. I think I just had room for it. Some things drain you so gradually you forget what it felt like before them. You only notice once they’re gone.