Last month, I quit my job.
It was a good job. Decent pay, a fancy title, convenient location, the opportunity for travel, . . . all the perks I’d dreamed about . . . five years ago.
So why quit?
Well, it’s complicated. But if I had to boil it down to its most distillate form, the answer would lie in Joseph Campbell’s famous quote (and I paraphrase):
“We must be willing to give up the life we had planned, in order to live the life that is waiting for us.”
Now this sounds pat, I realize, but after many, many years of doing the right thing, being the good girl, I’d come to the point where I didn’t even know what “life” I wanted. I was on autopilot.
I had read all the books: How to Be a Good Wife, How to Raise Happy and Healthy Children, How to Advance in Your Career, How to Save for Retirement . . . okay, that one got lost . . . I left it at an airport . . . I think . . . but anyway, I was doing all the right things, being a good soldier. And for the most part, this was the life I wanted, this was the life I created–carefully and deliberately.
So what changed?
My children are now grown. The home that I had tended so lovingly is now too big (and the colors are all wrong!). My husband and I have settled into companionable peace. The work that had so galvanized me ten years ago is now mostly meh! It’s like the life I was living no longer fits the person I am today (think late Elvis in a blingy jumpsuit). Something had to give.
So I jumped.
Now anyone who knows me will tell you that I am supremely risk-averse, so I use the word “jump” loosely here. It was more like a careful descent . . . down a set of wide, shallow steps . . . with handrails on both sides. Still, it was time to take a risk, to make a change.
Around this time, I came across an interview on The Creative Penn Podcast with speculative fiction author and blogger, Kevin Tumlinson, in which he talked about how he and his wife sold their home, moved into an RV, and completely downsized their world in order to pursue a life of travel and writing. He described how they first transitioned from a four-bedroom house to a one-bedroom apartment (and all the purging that went along with that), and then how they transitioned a few years later from the apartment to an RV.
Now I have no intention of doing any such nonsense–I like the comforts of my home too much (outdated paint-job notwithstanding)–but there was a nugget in there that I found quite inspiring. In talking about how he and his wife came to the decision to downsize, he said they had to ask the question
What are we willing to give up, in order to have the life we want?
That’s it, isn’t it? It’s not that we don’t want to reach out for a new and better life; it’s that we don’t want to give up what we already have, what we have (in many cases) worked so hard to attain.
This got me thinking, what am I willing to give up in order to craft the life I want now? Money? Prestige? Security? Familiarity? Expertise?
Oh dear God, no!
I felt like my twelve-year-old self–not really sure that I would ever play with my dolly again, but not quite ready to give her up to Goodwill either.
Also, I was scared.
These were the holy grail of adulthood–the hallmarks of having arrived. How was I going to risk so much for so little . . . or at least for the unknown?
Then I remembered that I had risked it all before. Thrice.
First as a twenty-year-old when I left my home and family to pursue a career as a flight attendant in a foreign country. There I was, a newly-minted college graduate, chucking it all in for a low-paying job with no prestige whatsoever, in an unfamiliar culture where I knew no one. No safety. No security. No familiarity. Pretty risky I would say.
The next time was a few years later when I immigrated to this country as a young wife with no papers and no opportunities for work. Again, I found myself in unfamiliar surroundings, financially dependent on my husband, and with few prospects for advancement. I was a housewife, for crying out loud! No money. No prestige. No familiarity–with either the country or the role.
And finally, I risked it all in becoming a mother. Now don’t get me wrong, I desperately wanted to be a mother, but I was also patently ill-suited to be one–impatient, rigid, and resentful of the time and effort it cost me. I was a stay-at-home mum who clothed her children in (toxic, commercial) diapers, fed them (non-organic, bottled) baby food, and gave them cheap (lead-filled) toys to play with. So, no money. No prestige. And definitely no expertise!
Remembering these instances offered little comfort, but it did give me the confidence to (at least momentarily) know that I had some experience with the unknown and the unfamiliar, and that perhaps these soft skills (experiences) could transfer to a new situation.
The first thing I had to do was get right with the money. This took some math. Which I am not good at. So basically I shelved complicated calculations and just told myself, hey, 15 years ago we lived on half of what we make now–and that’s with both children at home and a much higher mortgage rate. I figured if I kept my second job (yes, second job . . . remember shallow steps? Handrails? . . . not bloody Thelma and Louise!), and even factoring in inflation, we could make it work. Calculations over.
Then I had to get over the prestige factor. I had a pretty fancy title at the old job and a staff and an expense account–not bad for an academic–and here I was contemplating forsaking all of that for a lowly teaching gig. It took a moment, I will admit, but when I really thought about it, I was weary of all the hand-holding and nose-wiping that comes with middle management and even the travel was beginning to wear thin. Still, it took some spiritual fortitude (and strong drink!) to fend off the inevitable you’re-making-a-terrible-mistake conversations I had with other rising stars in the organization.
And finally I had to come to terms with insecurity. I did not know what was coming next, or if there was anything coming at all, and that scared me witless. Marriage, mortgage, tenure, swaha! This has been my mantra my entire life, so to contemplate the great unknown, the vast expanse of time ahead of me, was intimidating, to say the least. Still I soldiered on. I played the what’s-the-worst-that-could-happen-to-me game everyday, and everyday the game told me that the worst that could happen was that I’d need to get another job. Big deal. I’m not afraid of a little hard work.
So here’s what we have: Sometimes we have to give something up, maybe even many things up, in order to create the life we want.
What do I want?
Peace. Space. Air. Words. Laughter. Love. Adventure. Donuts . . . okay, okay, not donuts. I forsake donuts!
I want a life where hard work is interspersed with wide meadows of rest. I want time to travel, time to learn a language (or four). I want to wake up without dread. I want to surround myself with interesting people. I want to let my curiosity take me where it will. I want to be okay with blank pages and empty calendars. I want to be able to visit my children–at will and often. I want to walk until I think, enough.
How about you? What is the life you long to create, and what are you willing to give up to get it?
Let me know in the comments below.
Tina… I really loved your post. I did pretty much the same thing two years ago when I had my daughter. I gave up my job and everything else that came with it (retail therapy, security and years of hard work).
I think what makes people really think before giving up something is the number of years we have put into getting there. There is some odd sense of entitlement that we deserve the comforts that this job/situation/state gives us simply because we worked towards it for so long. So we VALUE what we have more because of our sacrifices/work we put in than on whether it makes us happy.
And in that process, precious perspective sometimes is lost.
But letting my job go was wonderful for me because I think motherhood would have just passed me by in a blur if i had continued to work. And for me, motherhood has completed several Gestald circles that I never knew were incomplete.
Good luck to you. May there be plenty of trees to marvel at and lots of good food while you do so 🙂
“There is some odd sense of entitlement that we deserve the comforts that this job/situation/state gives us simply because we worked towards it for so long.” Yes! So true. I think I saw a meme on fb that said something like “We hold on to our mistakes because we have spent so much time making them” – same concept, different context.
Thanks, and more trees and food for you, too!
Can’t wait to see where this new adventure leads you! <3 I live vicariously through your courage.
Thanks, J! If I remember rightly, you made a similar jump yourself not too long ago. <3
Have you ever heard of someone saying “Cancer can be a gift…” The first time I heard that I thought the person was crazy and mean. Turns out this phrase was right, for me. Once I found out I had cancer and finished treatment, I returned for one year and then decided to take early retirement. My pension was less but at that point, it was who the hell cares. BTW, I loved my job and had a ‘prestigious’ title.
I’ve had the best years filled with what I want to do, I have enough money (like you mortgage low, kids now gone). I’m healthy, wealthy in experiences, and haven’t regretted my decision. It’s letting go to catch something else. All the best to you Tina!
You are arriving at the next waterfall on your journey. Grab ahold of your footing, but let the river take you where your spirit wants to go. I am happy and excited for you Tina! Just remember, you are being held very securely by your own wings, and those of others (I’m holding you so you are safe as you travel). Bountiful adventures and opening ahead!
Thanks, Nancy! Good to know I have your wings!
Thanks, Mona! Yes, there is a gift in everything. And you were one of my inspirations. From the moment I met you I thought, look how well and fully she’s living her life! I want some of that. Here’s to us!
I completely get it Tina. It’s hard to look into the abyss not knowing how deep it is or if there is something there that will arrest your fall or something to hold on to if the decision you just made was wrong moments after you leap off the ledge. I will admit there is an unexplained thrill seated deep within your belly at the prospect of that leap. Maybe taking you back to that 20 something person. I am where you are right now. I hope you will be there to catch me fall. We can explore this together. Good luck my dear dear pal. You have always been a trailblazer. Love you
Yes! Thrilled to be taking this leap with you!
Yes yes yes! This so speaks to me. I’ve been dealing with my own little mid-life crisis. What do these 3 letters (PhD) mean to me? How does that match (or NOT) what they mean to anyone/everyone else? Can I truly fail if everything else makes me happy? I feel like I’m at an important cross roads. I no longer want it “all” but fear that means failure. Thank God for a husband who supports me and is letting me find my way…at 35 and with 2 young children.
Your post so completely speaks to me, sister.
“Can I truly fail if everything else makes me happy?” Isn’t it crazy that we even have to ask this question??? Yet, I, too, have felt this–hey, my life is good except when measured by this one (narrow) metric that defines success–tenure, publication, titles, money. How do we resist this message and still live in this (academic) milieu? I don’t know.
Tina, I had a good run in all aspects -family, money (Just enough), but strong principles.inherited from my elders. I worked for one Co for 31 years which today seems unbelievable till i retired with a year to go for 60 as the CEO of the Co, I looked for a roof over my head,–in Bangalore, where the weather is kind– enough to give my dear wife and myself a retired life as my children were both married. I took NO JOB after the age of 60 despite many offers,and today at 84 I have a happy immediate family of a married son and daughter with their kids who have now grown up. I also have a fine close extended family with whom we are constantly in touch. Luckily we have a host of good friends and above all enjoy reasonably good health The final idea that completed my living was one single word or experience–CONTENTMENT. I never WANTED anything as we have all that we NEED..
Great life perspective, Cheenumama, thank you!
You speak as if from my soul. So scary. All the stages you describe are the ones I’m going through at the moment. Except, I haven’t jumped (yet). I’m still in the oh-my-god-I’m-making-a-terrible-mistake mode. And if I ever do jump it would also have to be “a careful descent . . . down a set of wide, shallow steps . . . with handrails on both sides”. That might just be the way to go about it… Thanks for sharing how you did it! I’m full of admiration.
I’m glad I’m not alone! Don’t think I could have done it without handrails either, or without lots and lots of time to think about it and consider the decision from every angle. As it happens, when the time came to make the announcement, I had fully processed the decision and did not doubt its wisdom. Thanks for sharing!
Thank you, I hope I will get there too. Sounds truly liberating…
Tina, What courage to do what you know is right for you even though it was frightening. I’m not sure I could do the same. I salute you as you begin this new journey. Keep posting so we can see how your voyage unfolds.
Thank you, Lisa! I was held in my integrity by a lot of people–couldn’t have done it without the support.
Wonderful blog post. Made me laugh and think.
Thanks, Toni! Got to keep it light!
Great blog post Tina and just what I need to read today! You are amazing and an inspiration, and I”m so glad our paths got to cross!
Aww, thank you, Carrie! Ditto!
Yes! This is beautiful and honest and important work that you are doing. I applaud your fearlessness and curiosity. Taking this kind of a leap is not easy – I made a similar leap a few years ago – but you are doing it. Wow. So happy for you. Martha
Thank you, Martha! It is both scary and exciting. We should compare notes. 🙂