January 18, 2005

I made my decision official by e-mailing a few friends bright and early the morning after I committed to resigning. The slightly edited message:

I am quitting my job and going to play. I don’t know exactly when, but my lease runs out March 31^st, so will aim for that day.

This actually isn’t as rash or insane as it sounds. I’ve been pondering it for a long time—over a year.

Last night I ended up curled up in Mike’s arms, once again crying my eyes out, saying that all I wanted was to take six months off to snowboard and sail, read and think, and relax; to learn how to have fun. “So do it,” he said, “Get rid of this apartment, sell your stuff, and go do it.” And you know what? I didn’t fight him. Instead, I said, “Yes, that’s it. I’ll quit my job!”

I am so miserably unhappy now. I know in some ways this is a mindset and I could try to change my perspective on my job. But sometimes, radical change is necessary. (Sometimes, it isn’t all in your head or your attitude.) I can’t find the traction or wherewithal to do anything else. I really need to take 6 months to a year to play and read and relax. I have been thinking about it for a long time. Last night I finally verbalized it to some one else—and some one who I KNEW would support the idea. That means I am really ready to do this. I am ready to close the apartment door and walk away from it all.

I am rather scared about the idea, but also exhilarated.

In some ways, this is the scariest thing I’ve ever done. It is a total rejection of the path I was raised to follow. This time, there is no pre-set path. I’m just going to go, with no idea what I’ll do next. I just want to work at a job that is not too taxing and spend my non-work time reading and playing. Do all the stuff lots of other people did when they were teenagers or right after they finished college.

I don’t know what I should be doing with myself. Or what kind of life I want. Taking this time for myself is the best thing in the world I can do. I can’t imagine how I’ll be any worse off. I won’t have any financial savings at the end (probably a nice chunk of debt), but to find a way to light my inner spark, to take care of myself and my heart and soul’s needs, is totally worth it—A net gain, not a loss as far as I’m concerned.

My father is going to FLIP! But I think he’ll eventually be fine (I hope).

So, what I need from you is support and help. If my courage starts to flag, remind me that I’ll be fine.

And perhaps if you know some one in the places I go (not sure where yet), you could make an introduction?

Or maybe I’ll stay in NYC. I finally have a small community here; I’m not sure I want to leave.

It almost goes without saying, doesn’t it, that things did not turn out as I’d planned?

January 2005: I'm quitting

I quit.

I was doing great in a high-paying professional job in New York City, "living the good life," apparently all set to ascend the "success" pyramid. And then I quit, with no plan as to what came next. I simply resigned from the job, canceled my lease, and put my stuff in storage in a friend's basement. Then I spent several weeks visiting friends and family--sleeping a lot, reading some, watching TV, staring into space--before returning to New York. Still with no home, job, or grand plan.

Actually, that was the plan--to take some time off to figure out what I really want. Do I want to stay in NYC or leave? How do I want to earn a living? What kind of work-rest of my life balance do I want? Basically: Who am I, and how do I create a life that I'll really enjoy? (Because the one thing I do know: the life I was leading was not it.)

The journey is what I’ll share with you in this blog. When I quit my nice professional job with no plans, I didn’t know anyone else doing it. But in the last couple of years a few friends have also done it. Watching all of us, I realized that there are definite stages to the quitting process, and that we need a lot of support when we hop off the hamster wheel to try to create a new kind of life for ourselves. So I’m writing: to give support, encouragement, insights into what I’ve learned along the way, and hopefully create a community of people who have decided working 80-100 hours per week to get to the top of the ladder isn’t for them—despite years of familial and social grooming for the climb.