Photo by Tonik on Unsplash
I quit my job; my last day was two weeks ago. Last night, I had a dream that it was the Wednesday before my last day. I was plodding along and then remembered that in two days I would be free.
In my dream, just as in real life, it was exhilarating.
The first time I felt the floor fall out was after I told my colleagues I was leaving. I’d already told my boss, so the ship had sailed, but saying it to real people that I could see through my computer screen made it feel more real. I immediately wondered if I’d done the right thing; it was my first moment of doubt. My body filled with a frenetic energy.
I have a lot of anxiety around scarcity. I’ve been working hard, oftentimes at more than one job and mostly self-employed, for the last fifteen years. I’m not good at building a career, so I haven’t gotten to the point where it feels easy. I’ve struggled to commit to just one thing. My most recent job was the closest I’ve gotten to a feeling of ease: I was making a decent salary at a tech company, I had colleagues I was friends with, and the work was interesting. I felt like I’d hit the jackpot, then the company got acquired and it all went to shit. The silver lining was that if I stayed for one year after acquisition, I got a bonus, which is what enabled me to quit. It’s not a life-changing amount of money or anything, but if we keep an eye on things, it’s enough to get by on for the next few months until we land in the UK, at which point our expenses will go down thanks to the generosity of my in-laws who will be housing us until we figure out our lives. By then, we’ll have sold our house, and we’ll have another bit of cash that we can put towards our daily expenses. All told, I can reasonably be without an income until the end of this year, and yet, it is terrifying. Every day I am doing math in my head, trying to figure out what we can cut and what is worth it and fretting over job applications that I shouldn’t even be considering yet.
So did I make a mistake? No, I don’t think so. I thought about the decision for awhile. I felt every day how much my job was draining me, and I decided it wasn’t worth it any more. Besides, pretty soon we’ll be packing up our house and selling most of our belongings, and that’s going to take a lot of time and energy.
But mostly I quit my job because I wanted to start this transition, this revision, mindfully. I’m leaving the state I’ve lived in for the last fourteen years. I’m leaving my most beloved friend. I’m leaving my house, the only one my children have known. I’m leaving my established adulthood, with all the silly things that enable us to live a life under capitalism: a credit score, a bank account, consistent relationships with my healthcare providers. I don’t know what kind of job I will get or how much money my husband and I will be able to make (cue the scarcity anxiety). I just finished an M.A. at Duke University this spring where I studied philosophy and literature and wrote short stories. I desperately want to continue writing, to publish, to eventually teach, but I have no idea if that dream is something I’ll be able to realize. I know that the decisions I make in the next few months will have a big impact on what I’m able to do with my time going forward and whether or not I’ll be able to build a life that centers my creative work more than it has in the past.
It’s undeniably scary and, honestly, it would be easier to just focus on the logistics—to stay busy and rush through it. But I want to feel it. I want to feel the floor falling out, the wave of anxiety that comes with not knowing my next step or what shape our lives will take. I earnestly believe that’s part of the process.
When I was struggling with my mental health in college, I came home for a visit and went to see my high school guidance counselor. She told me that everyone has an existential crisis; I was just a bit ahead of the game. So here I am again, getting ahead of things. After all, if I don’t feel it now, it will come back around at some point.
Thank you for reading and for joining me in this space. Yes, you’ll be hearing a lot about my feelings. But I also hope to offer some thoughtful reflection on what it means to make a change, to choose difficulty, and to take risks. I’ll probably write a bit about how I’m talking to my kids about this change and how my partner and I are navigating it together. I’ll share my meanderings as I move from being directionless to, hopefully, having some semblance of order (and maybe back to being directionless again!). I’ll share some writing, eventually. I’ll talk about how the heck revising one’s life is related to revising one’s creative work (I swear there’s something there).
It would mean a lot to me for you to subscribe. I can promise it will be a bit messy, but it will also, I hope, be exhilarating.
Goodness! I feel like I am WAY out of the loop- a grad program and a huge move!- but am thrilled for you and excited to be connected this way. Not much of a FB person but welcome to Substack and I'll be glad to keep up with you this way, Tiff.