I want to share the experiences that pushed me toward my decision to work for myself — and then what I actually did first, once that decision was made.

Waiting for the paperwork

In mid-January, I finished my last shift and went on paid leave. My employment officially ended on the last day of January. My separation certificate — the document needed to file for unemployment benefits in Japan — arrived on February 10th. I had been waiting for it before doing anything, assuming I couldn't file without it. I later found out that you can actually begin the process before it arrives; if more than a week has passed since your last working day, you can make a provisional appointment. If you're planning to leave a job, I'd strongly recommend researching the steps in advance. There are many helpful videos on YouTube from former Hello Work staff that walk you through everything.

One thing worth knowing: even if you resigned voluntarily, you may be able to explain at Hello Work that your resignation was due to workplace stress or harassment — and this can affect how quickly you receive your benefits. If losing your income would immediately put you in a difficult situation, it's worth looking into before you leave.

Going to Hello Work

My mother, who lives with us, has been assessed at Care Level 1. I can see her strength fading little by little. Thinking about the possibility that her care needs will increase, I found myself wondering: can I really keep working the way I have been? On top of that, I've been dealing with symptoms I suspect are perimenopause, and I can't ignore the changes in my own energy and health.

I've also felt, since my early forties, that my options in the job market were quietly narrowing. So shortly after filing for unemployment, I requested a consultation at Hello Work. I asked about vocational training programmes — hoping to build skills that would help me find work closer to home, and perhaps even work remotely, just in case.

What happened at the counter

The response was cold. I was told that these programmes were for people planning to be employed by a company, and that someone of my age and background was unlikely to find employment through training anyway — so I'd be better off just looking for a job right away.

What bothered me most was what came next. The counsellor pulled up a job listing on the spot and pressed me to apply then and there. Even if the pay and conditions looked fine on paper, I'm the one who would have to commute there every day. I politely asked to take the printout home, tucked it into my bag, and left.

When I showed it to my husband, who knows the area well, he said: "The access is terrible. It might look close, but getting there would be a nightmare." Sadly, it was not the kind of support I had hoped for.

Finding my resolve

Two experiences. Two women. Two moments that left me feeling dismissed. First, a supervisor whose words knocked the confidence out of me after years of giving everything I had. Then, a counsellor who seemed to see no future worth supporting in someone like me.

Is it wrong to want to work in a way that suits your life?

My husband and sons had been telling me I didn't have to push myself anymore. And I knew they meant it kindly. But I also knew that none of them went to work every day because they loved it. I couldn't bring myself to be the only one freed from something hard.

These two experiences lit a fire. I refuse to be written off. Who decided I couldn't do this?

I don't know if someone like me — in her mid-fifties, with no impressive qualifications — can really make it work. But I had to try.

Starting with the house

After quitting my job, I found myself asking the same question every day: Where do I even begin? I had made up my mind — no more working for someone else. But the path forward was completely unclear.

What I did have was a house full of things that needed doing. Five people's worth of laundry appearing every single morning. Meals to plan, groceries to buy, dishes to wash. Working without the pressure of a job, I was struck by how much lighter housework felt. For the first time in over twenty years, I wanted to say to myself: You did well. All those years of holding everything together — that took real strength.

So I decided: before anything else, I would tackle the house.

Facing twenty years of clutter

Years of I'll deal with it later had quietly piled up in every corner. Dusty stacks of books and magazines. Clothes I hadn't worn in a decade. Faded receipts from shopping trips long forgotten. My children's old textbooks from school years that had come and gone. Everywhere I looked, there were things I had simply chosen not to see.

I started pulling things out — anything I could let go of without hesitation. And with each bag filled, each corner cleared, something inside me lifted too.

Getting rid of bulk waste

My eldest son's old bed frame and desk — disassembled but sitting in the garden getting rained on for years. Old light fittings replaced when we switched to LEDs. I called a bulk waste collection service and had it all taken away.

Some of the items were still usable — I could probably have sold them on Mercari, or given them away through Jimoty. I weighed the effort against the gain and decided my time was worth more.

Bulk waste collection works differently depending on your local council. In my area, you can register up to five items at a time by phone or LINE. On collection day, you leave each item outside with a label showing the date, item name, and your name. If you're not home, a payment slip is left in your post box and you transfer the fee later. If you are home, you pay cash on the day. Some councils also allow you to drop items directly at a recycling centre once a month.

What letting go taught me

I've never been good at letting things go. But this time, it came surprisingly easily. And with each bag filled, something inside me lifted.

"Dust won't kill you." That's what I used to tell myself, rushing out the door to work. But what I hadn't realised was the quiet guilt I had been carrying — the constant feeling that I was failing at home while pouring everything into a job.

The job I left was one I had dreamed of having. I gave it everything. My final performance review gave me a 1 out of 5. The disappointment was real. And yet — months later, I can say with certainty that I feel more at peace than I have in years.

• The joy of moving through a day without watching the clock
• The joy of finally having space to do the things I couldn't before
• The joy of being present at home — really present — for the first time
• The joy of treating myself with care

Money matters. I know that. But I also know now that time is worth more. Spending your most precious hours in a place that diminishes you — for a wage that barely reflects the effort — is a trade I'm no longer willing to make. I've decided to stop selling myself short.

This life is the only one I have. I intend to fill it with things that matter.

Once I had tackled the house, the next thing I turned to was managing our household finances — something I'd never done properly in twenty-six years. I'll write about how that began in another post.