Dealing with Quiet Quitting: Ancient Wisdom for Modern Struggles
Lisa texted me at 9pm on a Thursday. We’ve been friends since college, she works at a marketing firm now. Her message was three words long: “Am I broken?” I called her immediately because I knew that feeling. Two years ago I went through the exact same crisis at my old job.
With me it crept up slowly at first. Stopped raising my hand in meetings. Let voicemails sit for a day or two before returning them. Then it got bigger and I started leaving work at 5 instead of 7 like everyone else seemed to do. My cubicle neighbor Dave noticed the change. He asked if something was wrong and I just shrugged because honestly I didn’t know how to explain it.
Guilt hit me hard during that period. Wasn’t I supposed to pour myself into my career like my parents did? All those motivational podcasts I listened to during my commute talked about hustle and grinding and giving 110 percent. What was wrong with me?
Nothing was wrong with me, turns out. The company laid off my entire department a year later anyway. So much for all that extra effort and loyalty I’d shown them.
People are calling this quiet quitting now. The term bugs me a little because it implies you’re being sneaky when really you’re just finally drawing some boundaries. I never quit anything. I just stopped burning myself out for people who wouldn’t remember my name in five years.
I stumbled onto something interesting during a late night of bad sleep and internet browsing. Turns out people have been wrestling with this exact feeling for thousands of years. Not just regular people either. Roman emperors who wanted to be philosophers instead of rulers. Teachers who spent their early lives in chains as slaves. Even a prince who walked away from a kingdom because luxury wasn’t cutting it.
Knowing I wasn’t the first to feel this way helped more than I expected.
You’re not the first to carry this
Voices across time
These are voices from long ago that helped me make sense of what I was experiencing. Maybe they can do the same for you.
“At dawn, when you have trouble getting out of bed, tell yourself: I have to go to work as a human being.”
Marcus Aurelius — Roman Emperor, 121–180 CE
Meditations
The guy never even wanted to be emperor. Philosophy was his passion, he wanted to spend his days reading and thinking. Instead Rome handed him absolute power at age forty and expected him to deal with wars, plagues, and constant betrayal for the rest of his life. His private journal reveals someone running on empty who keeps showing up anyway. Not because work felt fulfilling. Because showing up was who he decided to be regardless of feelings. There’s something weirdly comforting about knowing a Roman emperor also had mornings where he couldn’t face getting out of bed.
“It is not that we have a short time to live, but that we waste a lot of it.”
Seneca — On the Shortness of Life
Seneca had money, power, influence, the whole package by ancient standards. Yet his letters return over and over to one uncomfortable observation: most people fill their lives with busyness that adds up to nothing real in the end. Running around looking productive while the years slip away and leave no trace. That observation landed like a punch when I read it. My late nights at the office. The weekends spent on projects nobody remembers now. What exactly did I have to show for any of it? He was right and I hated that he was right.
“Some things are in our control and others not.”
Epictetus — Enchiridion
This one changed something in me. Epictetus spent his early years enslaved. Owned by another person, had zero say over his own labor or life. And from that position he built a whole philosophy about what we actually control versus what we only think we control. Workplace drama falls into the second category. So does whether your manager notices your contributions. But your inner response to all of it belongs entirely to you. That doesn’t fix bad situations. It gives you somewhere solid to stand while dealing with them though.
The Buddha started life as a prince who had servants and comfort and zero real problems by material standards. Still walked away from all of it because something felt hollow that he couldn’t identify. After years of searching he landed on an insight that keeps proving itself true: we suffer because we attach our sense of worth to things that cannot actually satisfy us. Job titles. Performance ratings. Recognition from bosses. We stake our happiness on these targets and then feel bewildered when hitting them doesn’t help. Maybe disengagement from work is the soul’s first step toward engaging with what actually matters.
“Attachment is the root of suffering.”
Buddha — Spiritual teacher, 5th century BCE
Dhammapada
What connects them
What they all understood
An emperor who wanted a quieter life. A wealthy man who saw through his own success. A slave who found freedom inside himself. A prince who traded comfort for truth. Very different lives, very different centuries, same fundamental searching.
Each found their own answer. Duty. Time. Acceptance. Letting go. The specifics varied but they all refused to accept emptiness as the final word on things.
That hollow ache that comes with quiet quitting might be the beginning of your own searching. Not a sign that you’re broken. A signal that something important wants your attention.
Before you go
A Moment for You
I’m still employed these days, different company but similar work. Rent doesn’t pay itself after all. The relationship has shifted though. I stopped looking to my job to provide meaning it was never going to deliver anyway.
Whatever emptiness you’re carrying right now, I don’t think it’s asking you to care less about life. I think it’s asking what’s actually worth caring about more deeply. Different question entirely.
InnerCalm+ offers some guided reflection tools if you want help sitting with questions like these. Sometimes a little structure helps the searching.
This content is for informational purposes only and is not a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. If you’re struggling with mental health issues, please consult a qualified healthcare provider.
This post is also available in:
