Too Creative for a 9 to 5

When I graduated college, I did what most people do. I took the “safe” job. It was an IT position at a women’s retail company, and on paper, it looked like a dream for someone just starting out. The title sounded legitimate. The paycheck was steady. I was a Business Analyst—which, at 22, felt like the professional thing to be.

I was part of a major system implementation project, “quarterbacking” this huge initiative alongside two other people. The problem? I had absolutely no idea what I was doing. None.

Every day, I’d sit at my desk under fluorescent lights, staring at spreadsheets and emails, trying to act like I had it together. But internally, I was crumbling. Restless. Empty. I used to describe it as feeling itchy, like there was something inside me trying to move that couldn’t. It wasn’t physical—it was this deep, internal discomfort that came from being in the wrong place, doing work that didn’t light me up in the slightest.

That’s when I realized: Creativity doesn’t survive in a box. It withers there.

The structure, the meetings, the monotony—it all left me feeling like I was living someone else’s life. And even though I tried to push through, the burnout was real. My mental health was slipping. I started waking up with dread instead of excitement.

Eventually, something had to give.

So I quit.

No backup plan. No next job lined up. Just one Trōv client and a tiny spark of hope that maybe, if I gave myself the space to breathe, I could figure it out The decision terrified me. But the second I walked away, I felt a wave of relief I can still remember. It was like I could finally hear myself think again. Once I stepped out of that environment, the creativity started flowing back in. I remembered what it felt like to have ideas again—to build something that mattered, to use my brain and my heart at the same time.

And that feeling? That’s what I’ve been chasing ever since.

Entrepreneurship hasn’t been easy. It’s not all freedom and flexibility like the internet likes to make it seem. It’s hard, uncomfortable, and uncertain. But it’s also the most alive I’ve ever felt. When you’re too creative for a 9 to 5, you learn that “safe” isn’t always secure. That sometimes, stability costs you your spark. And that the only way to make it work is to trust yourself enough to build something that fits you better.

Because here’s the truth: Creativity doesn’t thrive when you’re boxed in. But it also doesn’t thrive when you’re running on fumes.

Even now, as a business owner, I have to remind myself that rest is not weakness. That slowing down is part of the process. That creativity comes in waves, and forcing it never works. If you’ve ever sat at your desk and felt that restless, itchy feeling—the kind you can’t shake no matter how hard you try—listen to it. That feeling isn’t failure. It’s direction.

It’s your cue that you’re meant for something different.

And when you finally step into what’s meant for you, the noise quiets, the energy returns, and that “itchy” feeling? It finally fades.