Confessions of a Former Nine-to-Fiver

Confession #426…From boardrooms to bisqueware: how leaving corporate life led me to creative freedom, community, and daily muddy hands

There was a time—not that long ago—when I wore tailored blazers, had a calendar colour-coded within an inch of its life, and knew the exact speed I needed to walk to reach the train platform with exactly 45 seconds to spare (yes, even in heels). I answered emails with phrases like “touching base” and “looping you in,” and I lived for my daily takeaway coffee… not for the taste, but for the tiny slice of freedom it offered.

But something inside me itched. Not in the ‘I-need-a-new-desk-chair’ kind of way, but in the deep, unsettling hum of discontent that whispered, “Is this really it?”

Spoiler: it wasn’t.

The Longing Beneath the Lanyard

Every late-night deck, every Monday morning status meeting, every moment I tried to squeeze creativity into the margins of a very full spreadsheet life—it all added up. I was craving slowness. Substance. The kind of satisfaction that doesn’t arrive via KPI.

I didn’t know it then, but clay had already begun its gentle tug on my heart.

Handmade pottery, creative living, and slow craft weren’t even in my vocabulary yet—but the longing was real.

The Leap (Or… the Slightly Wobbly Shuffle)

Leaving corporate life wasn’t a neat, bold leap. It was a patchwork of baby steps, second guesses, and more than one “what-have-I-done?” moment. But underneath it all was this wild, liberating truth: I wanted to make things with my hands.

Things that couldn’t be backspaced or revised for version 12.3.

Things that held warmth. Function. Feeling.

Making pottery by hand became my quiet rebellion. My creative comeback. My grounding practice.

Mud Over Metrics

These days, my calendar is still colourful—but it’s peppered with things like “glaze test day,”* “dahlia check,” and “Fire Up Friday.” My hands are rarely clean, and my wardrobe is 87% aprons, 12% trackies, and 1% the leftover ‘just in case’ corporate attire (mostly used for impromptu costume parties now).*

There’s mess. A lot of it.

There’s trial and error, and the kind of failure that looks like a collapsed bowl but feels like a breakthrough.

But oh, there is joy.

Deep, marrow-filling, heart-stretching joy.

It turns out that swapping spreadsheets for slip clay was one of the best things I’ve ever done.

Finding My People

I didn’t just find clay—I found you.

A community of like-minded souls who love a slow morning, a handcrafted ceramic mug, and a story tucked into every curve of a vessel. Women navigating matrescence, creativity, and the magic of showing up for ourselves, one imperfect cup at a time.

This isn’t just about leaving the corporate world—it’s about coming home to yourself.

If You’re Teetering on the Edge…

This post isn’t a manifesto for quitting your job and running into the arms of pottery (though, highly recommend). It’s a gentle whisper to those who feel the itch—the creative nudge that won’t go away. You don’t have to leap today. But maybe… start listening. Start playing. Start making.

Because sometimes, creative freedom looks like muddy fingernails and a mug that only your hands could’ve shaped.

Have you ever dreamt about a creative career change or leaving the 9-to-5 life?

Slide into the comments, reply to the newsletter, or come chat with me at the next open studio in Murrumbateman. I’d love to hear your version of "from suits to slip clay."

Until next time,
Nawsheen, your friendly homebody artist from Murrumbateman.