For the past four months I wake up every morning feeling like I ate bad sushi. My intestines feel like they've wrapped around each other and I'm pissed off about it. I feel constantly hung-over – dehydrated and nervous, never not once not at all eager to greet the day. There's not enough Excedrin in the world. I'd fake sick and stay home, but I am sick -and tired- so I drag myself to work, plug into my phone and computer and chain myself to complacency.

My dad always says, "Work is work. If were fun they'd call it fun." No, dad. It's called My Life.

My dad has another saying: It's not the race, it's the marathon.

But I'm restless like my mom. She's all Irish but she says she has gypsy blood. I have lived in three cities in one year. I have had six jobs in one year. It's not that I'm a quitter, I just refuse to settle. My dad says, "Jessica, you want everything right now, but with time comes experience, and with experience you'll become what it is you want to become." The race and marathon proverb is nice –stitched to a pillow. I'm a sprinter, not a cross-country runner.

I quit jobs like I dump men. A few dates, a few drinks, it's not a match, check please.

I know quitting isn't always that simple. There are the jobs that offer security in big bonuses and advanced degrees. Sometimes you hate the work but you can commensurate with those around you. Retirement isn't that far off- only two or three decades and you hate the thought of writing cover letters and going on interviews. Some relationships keep you, trap you, hold you even though you know that something just isn't right. You can't find the strength to quit so you grow indifferent and you wait. You find yourself fantasizing about moving to Australia or joining the Peace Corps or your significant other exploding in a plane crash. You pour less coffee in the morning mug and double up on the Irish cream.

There was one guy that kept me for a while. The pressure of "forever" started to weigh on me. I thought I could be happy in the interim, but it just wasn't right. We weren't the right match. He came home one night after work, guacamole clinging to his shoes. "I think I'm going to start bar backing next week," he said, just genuinely excited. "The Christmas party is next week, and Hailey wants to do 80's prom. You remember, right?" I felt like I was going to throw up. I wanted to pull my hair out at the roots and I grabbed the arm of the couch-it was all that I could do to keep myself together. "I don't want to have kids," I said. He blinked. "I said I don't want to have kids. I thought I would want to someday because I love kids and I always saw myself as a mother but I don't think I want – no, I know that I don't ever want to have kids!" I was crying now, like a toddler having a tantrum, hiccupping for hair. I thought I wasn't going to have children, but I had realized that didn't want to have his children. "Hey! Calm down, it's ok," He reassured me, "Why are you getting upset now? Of course we're going to have kids someday."

I knew then that it was time to quit.

I don't care how old you are, you are too young to be complacent. There's nothing wrong in dating around and changing jobs and moving cities. When you do find the right match it's worth the hardship- so very worth the hardship. I would rather quit complacency than settle for security any day.

I'd rather run lots of little races than one long marathon. I'd rather have lots of little trophies than one boring big one.