I really struggled with the decision to leave my job. For years, in fact. Like most Gen X-ers, I was encouraged to get an advanced education and enter the work force, follow my ambitions, become successful. I was my father’s daughter, following his puritan work ethic to the purest of p’s.
I started working odd jobs since I was 12, I worked summers during middle school and high school, I worked 20 hours a week throughout my entire Ivy League college education, I worked while getting my PhD, I joined the work force 2 weeks after I finished my PhD, and I just kept on working (of course living in Europe I capitalized on the relaxed work ethic, 37 hour work weeks and 6-8 weeks of vacation if you count bank holidays). But all I knew to do was work.
Towards the end I was making six figures (times two). I could afford the expensive designer furniture, the fancy holidays, the boutique hotels, the 5-star resorts, the shoes, the clothes, and more shoes. But the truth is that for many years I felt unfulfilled. I struggled to grasp what it was that I was put on this earth to do. I was tired of working for companies that seemed to undervalue my skills, for bosses who were ‘absent’, and in my last job, for a department head, who was a narcissist and a bully. During an altercation at work, I decided this was finally my ‘out’. I had contemplated this chess move for about 2 years. Praying I would get fired and collect a lucrative severance package, and so that is how it happened (though in the end we left by mutual agreement, like a divorce of sorts).
I ended up getting 9 months pay after I left, so I did what I always wanted to do: take a sabbatical and travel the world! Not the 2-week holidays I was used to, the ones were you take a fancy roll-on suitcase. But the month long trips where you shove your whole life into a backpack and sort of just wing it.
I’ve always thought of myself as being pretty smart and insightful, but it was during these 6 months of solo travel that I really discovered what life was all about: it was a slowly evolving eureka moment where everything became crystal clear and life made sense. I met so many interesting people, had awe-inspiring, fear-provoking, and tear-jerking moments, and I loved that I was doing it alone – for the first time unfettered by un-devoted, non-committal boyfriends or the gut- wrenching thought that I’d have to be back at work sitting behind a desk in two weeks’ time.
My 6-month sabbatical turned into 9 months, then a year. At some point I started freaking out about the future. Would I ever find another ‘job’ again? Who would ‘take care of me’? Would I have enough money to retire? These constant worries really started to spoil this precious time off. My first strategy for coping was to try and find a new job. I found what I thought was a perfect fit, so I applied. It was the only ‘job’ I’d consider doing. It was at a biotech start-up working for a guy I knew I could respect and admire. He kept me waiting for his decision to hire for a couple of weeks. In the meantime I got an unexpected offer from a billion dollar multi-national, making 800 dollars a day. I stalled, I demanded more money, to work from home, etc etc, I showed the utmost disinterest in working for them, and eventually they retracted their offer because to them it was obvious I didn’t want the job. In the end, the other ‘job’ didn’t come through either, I was left with nothing, so I decided to stop looking for a ‘job’ that I didn’t really want, and start my own company.
This was an outdoor venture doing what I loved most, being in the mountains. Setting up my own business proved challenging and empowering, and I delved into it like everything else prior, 120%. It turned out to be successful and profitable, but not as personally rewarding as I had hoped, or maybe I just wasn’t very good at it. My first instinct was to assume failure, but I came to realize that while I hadn’t hit the bull’s eye, I had come very close on my very first attempt at being an entrepreneur.
Shortly after I started this venture, my father passed away and I decided to move back to the U.S. I met someone (a guy) who shared my passion for travelling and so we decided to go travelling together around the world, which was both amazing and extremely challenging at times, especially as we hardly knew each other and I was mourning the loss of my father.
My father always told me that I could do anything I wanted to do. When I started my own business he was inquisitive and encouraging and even forwarded my website to a few of his friends who said they wished the could attend my retreats (he was 81!).
When I first quit my job I had 3 plans (because as an effective project manager you always have a backup plan if things go wrong with the first plan). I had a Plan A, a Plan B, and a fall-back if all went wrong: Plan C. Plan A was just ‘go and get a new job’. That didn’t work out. Plan B was ‘start your own business’. That sort of worked out, but to live off of it would have meant me staying in Europe, which I didn’t want to do. Plan C was move to the U.S. and live off of my retirement savings until a ‘job’ or new business venture came up. The line between courage and stupidity is often a fine, sometimes transparent, one. I’d like to think I’m more courageous than stupid, but I’ll let you decide.
I’ve been on Plan C for a few months now. I freaked out again recently (when my boyfriend and I started arguing about who would buy the groceries; he was also, up until recently, unemployed), and so I started looking for a new ‘job’. You can tell you don’t really want the ‘job’ you are applying for because your cover letter reads like the most boring, un-enthusiastic, sorry piece of writing you’ve ever done.
I’ve decided to stop worrying, to stop looking for a ‘job’ (at least for now), and start a (another) new business, something I am passionate about. I won’t be making much (if any) money for a while, and yes my savings account keeps dwindling, but nobody who ever achieved great success in life didn’t at some point have to risk it all. And I well remember sitting next to my dying father knowing he wasn’t taking his retirement savings with him to the other side. Being an entrepreneur takes a lot of courage, especially when you don’t have a rich husband, rich daddy, or trust fund to back you.
I’ve decided to be courageous and follow the (life) plan from which I can extract the most meaning. I’ve decided to just wing it and follow this little dream of mine to work with kids who need old dreamers like me to provide them with something no one else has. To make their future a little brighter and their aspirations a little closer to reality.
So here goes Plan C…
thebearthatmoved.com 