Authentically Flawed

This is the first part of a two-part story about why I chose to take the scariest risk of my life. I can’t tell the second half of it right now because I’m still too close to the source, but stay tuned family – one day I’ll spill the tea in Why I Quit My Job – Part II: Them.

Scenario: My alarm goes off at 6:30am, but I’ve already been awake for an hour, brain running 100 MPH. While my mind is in a full sprint, my body is sluggish from too many nights of anxiety-ridden restlessness. I know once I pick up my phone, I’m going to plug directly into the source of my anxiety, but I can’t stop my reflexes from grabbing it and doing what I know I shouldn’t: checking that damn work email. Before I’ve even showered, I’m weighed down by the day’s responsibilities and the battle that lay ahead of me. I get up, shower, and go to my walk-in closet, where my latest routine begins. I sit on the floor in my towel and daydream about a life outside this perpetual state of tension. My thoughts are divided – on one hand, I’m trying to figure out what to put on while the clock ticks me closer and closer to being late for my first meeting; on the other, I’m trying to figure out how to pay for this closet, in this house, without going to the last place on Earth I want to be.

Two years into therapy, and after hearing the 100th version of the same story, my therapist finally asked me: “what’s the worst thing that would happen if you quit?” After asking if she meant quitting without another job, and getting confirmation that’s what she meant, I replied with a classically dramatic “I don’t know, Sam…I could DIE!” Ever the epitome of patience for my theatrics, she nodded thoughtfully before replying that was unlikely, but we should talk about why I felt it was possible. Despite my initial outburst, I started thinking about this and reflecting on the previous few years.

When I started my job in 2016, it seemed so exciting; I’d have the opportunity to lead automation projects for one of the world’s most recognizable brands, and I’d get to see the world in the process. My first week told me everything I’d need to know about the next four years but I ignored my gut and convinced myself I’d made the right decision. Financially, it was a great move that kept paying off – I’d eventually relocate to Austin, TX – where there is no state income tax – with my CA salary. It was an instant ~10% raise, and at first I thought it was worth it. Temporary fix. I had given up 18 months of my life flying back and forth to Mexico on an almost weekly basis, and at the height of my exhaustion with this, my boss came to me and said I’d be getting a sizable bonus for my efforts. Temporary fix. I used that bonus, which I ended up having to fight tooth and nail for, to put a down payment on my dream of buying a house – a brand new one at that. Temporary fix. Here’s the problem with temporary fixes: I was selling small pieces of my sanity for the illusion of success. Along the way, I backed myself into a corner – owning two homes, upgrading my car every three years, having a massive amount of student loan debt – all requires that I have a solid income. I don’t have family to fall back on, there’s no “going home” for me; I built my home, and financially I’m all I have, hence my overreaction to Sam’s suggestion. But such is life, small pieces add up over time, and eventually I was hanging on to who I was by a thin and frayed thread.

Not long after that therapy visit, we had a change in leadership. Initially hopeful, it quickly became obvious to me that not only were things not going to improve, they were going to get significantly worse. I’m not going to get into the details of what happened, as this is a reflection of the environment’s impact on me, but I do want to point out that I consulted not only my therapist, but several others outside the situation; my mentor, who is a respected executive at another company, a Human Resources professional not associated with my organization, and a handful of peers who left our group before me. All told me the same thing: get out. To put it in perspective, myself not included, 70% of the team I started with in 2016 left – the majority of them in the previous 18 months.

As I was contemplating my next move, a couple of things happened. 1. I went to an event that my friend Enitan hosted at SXSW and heard a panel of the most amazing people having a curated discussion on entrepreneurship and the journey they took to pursue their passion. Everything inside me was ignited, and it became crystal clear to me that I was miserable in my job, in part because not only was I not living my purpose, I wasn’t even dedicating any of my free time to it. I love to write, and I’ve been daydreaming about writing a book for at least the last decade. At that moment of clarity, I hadn’t even written in my journal in months. 2. I went to San Diego to celebrate my best friend’s birthday, and while we were on the beach, I felt a sense of calm and peace I hadn’t felt since the last time I was at the beach. That was the key, to get back to my center, I’d need to return to the West Coast. July 8, after another therapy session, I made a plan: get my finances in order so I could leave my job and move back to San Diego at the beginning of the year. I spoke with my family, friends, and financial advisor, and all were thrilled that I would be taking my life back.

So here we are. As of Friday, January 3, I am voluntarily unemployed. Does this scare me? Of course; I haven’t been unemployed since I was in high school. But more than scared, I’m filled with hope. I’m here, standing in the truth that my sanity is not for sale, that there was only so much abuse and toxicity I was going to tolerate before I said that I am more important than a paycheck. I am proud, and humbled, and ready to own the next chapter of my life. What became evident in the time between the moment I handed in my notice, and the moment I walked out of the office for the last time, is that I waited too long. I let fear keep me paralyzed and miserable. I listened to the folks who said not to quit a job unless I had another job. I obsessed over my financial responsibilities and let them trap me. Never again. We get one life, and it can be taken from us at any moment. We have a responsibility to live it as authentically and with as much joy as we can, and that’s what I intend to do.