I wrote a resignation letter last night. It’s short and sweet, just a few sentences. The process of scribing it was liberating and healing — as though these words were meant to be expelled into the world, in black and white print.
For months, actually more than a year now, I’ve been hemming and hawing my existence at my current job. The career stream into which I’ve found myself hasn’t resonated well with me, and there’s been a tremendous amount of resentment halo-ing this unwanted evolution. At times I thought perhaps I was just over-analyzing something that most people would give their left arm to have.
But that’s just it: I’m not most people. My job has made me bitter and uptight as I get nudged into a managerial role, even as the world outside of my skyscraper seat unfolds in beautiful ways that bring me enormous, new ribbons joy.
In short: My true self does not make a cameo at my job. Management went so far as to tell me this today in a brutally honest way yesterday. It was a blind spot up until yesterday. While it was certainly a blow to the ego, and still stings to know that certain people don’t enjoy working with you, this moment of humility has now become something more: a catalyst for change.
I can either rise up and make the requested changes, and stay relatively complacent with a high-paying job that, while glamorous on the outside, currently stifles my creative spirit.
Or, I can break free to seek out some new adventure — shake things up, embrace the courage to chart a new path. Because, at this point in my life, I have the ability to do just that. All it takes to set these wheels in motion is turning in this resignation letter. Then I’ll be forced to do it, and do it with full gusto (versus imagining it in my mind).
Charting either path takes courage. But one demands a little bit more, plus a leap of faith.
At tonight’s yoga practice, I meditated on how I’d map out a new life chapter. Finish my teacher training by early November. Sell my condo. After Thanksgiving, go to India-Nepal-Bhutan to study, and stay through January or February. Then come back and surrender to whatever life serves up.
The plan made me smile and panic at the same time. I know how that would appear to everyone on the outside. It’s those people who I need to tune out, however. What’s appropriate for me, right now?
I liken my situation to staying in a disintegrating relationship — and Lord knows I’ve been through a few of those. I can stay and struggle with the aspiration of “making it work” even though it makes me unhappy with no guarantee of happiness in the end. But perhaps I can push through! Some couples are able to work through their issues, after all, and come out of it stronger than ever. Alternatively, I can initiate a clean break and move on. I did this a few years ago when I was in a loveless relationship where trust no longer existed due to betrayal. It was one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever made, to cut that chord with a man who used to dazzle me with visions of a happy, married life. But ultimately, cutting that chord almost immediately transformed me a better person.
What will make me a better person in this current scenario? Do I suck it up? Or is it time to forge ahead, in a new direction, an unknown direction?
… this decision scares the shit out of me.