The day has to be in service of something
You have left jobs that were perfectly good, on grounds nobody around you found sufficient. That is Saturn in Sagittarius in the 6th house: an ordinary working day that has to be in service of something you believe, or it becomes genuinely unworkable rather than merely dull.
The 6th house is routine, tasks and the body; Sagittarius needs a horizon. Saturn makes the requirement non-negotiable rather than aspirational, which is why your working life has more discontinuities in it than most and why every one of them was, from inside, entirely necessary.
It comes due when the work is merely a job
The test is a stretch where the work has to be done and does not mean anything: the interim role, the year of paying for something, the position that serves a purpose outside itself. Your temperament will read that as a compromise of principle. It is a transaction with a date on it, and treating it as one is the available skill.
They think you are restless
A record with several changes in it gets read as an inability to settle, particularly by people who have stayed put and consider that a virtue. What actually happened each time was specific and defensible. Being able to state the thread in one sentence turns a pattern that looks like drift into one that looks like direction.
The weight is needing meaning on a Tuesday
Most people can run for months on habit alone. You cannot: the connection between the day's tasks and whatever they are for has to be visible fairly regularly or the whole arrangement starts to fail. That is a genuine operating requirement rather than a failure of discipline, and it is worth designing around rather than apologising for.
A working life that actually means something
What this builds, once the requirement is taken seriously rather than fought, is genuinely uncommon: a career composed entirely of work you can defend, arrived at by way of several changes that looked unwise to everybody watching at the time. Very few people manage it, because very few are willing to pay what it costs. You have already paid most of that bill.
You are fine until the work stops meaning anything
Physically you can sustain a great deal while the work is worth doing, and you fall apart surprisingly fast once it is not — the same hours, the same load, an entirely different cost. That connection between meaning and stamina is unusually direct in your case. It also makes your own tiredness a reliable instrument for reading whether a job has quietly stopped being the right one.
Teaching or training is somewhere in your work
Whatever field you are in, the part you do best involves bringing somebody else up to speed: the training, the induction, the explanation that makes the whole thing make sense. It rarely appears in a job title and it is the most transferable thing you have. Making it explicit in how you describe yourself changes what you get offered.
You keep testing whether this is still the right thing
A review runs continuously in the background — is this worth doing, is it still true, should I be here — and it never fully resolves. It has produced good decisions and a certain amount of unnecessary turbulence. Giving it a scheduled slot once a year, and declining to entertain it in between, is more effective than trying to switch it off.
You have taken a pay cut on principle more than once
Money has repeatedly lost to meaning in your decisions, and you would make most of those choices again. The pattern is worth pricing rather than simply repeating: know what the principle has cost cumulatively, so that the next decision is made with the real figure in view rather than in the abstract.
Your household absorbs the changes
The moves and career changes that were necessary for you were events for everybody living with you, and their view of them is not the same as yours. That is not an argument against having made them. It is an argument for asking, once, what those years were like from where they were standing.