Friday, February 8, 2013

Adventures in Unemployment: The Start

I quit.  I simply up and quit.  A job, a great six figure job in a climate where people are struggling, loosing homes, and scrapping by was blithely tossed out the window.  The benefits were good, the job not that hard, but after 20 years of doing the right thing I looked around and realized this is not the life I wanted to live.  So with a little money in the bank, no chance at unemployment to supplement me, and no clear plan or path to happiness, I sent in my resignation with 24 hours notice.

Reactions have crossed the spectrum from “are you insane?” to “omg. You are my hero”.  Frankly neither of those extremes apply to how I feel about things.  Life is seemingly long and short all at once.  It presents small windows of opportunity for change with minimal disruption to others.  This window was screaming, “Tear down the house and start fresh!”  The family obligations are gone, there was no one to support (kids, friends in need, etc.), minimal financial overhead, and a nest egg was sitting there ready to fall back on.  So why not jump?   A life of doing the right thing and falling in line has its rewards to be sure.  You have security, the 401K gets funded, and you are part of normal society, Mon – Fri productively trudging to your little job, and slamming your social life and me time into the two days that are your own.  The path of your life is stretched long and straight in front of you for miles/years. 

For the last year or so that path has been frustratingly boring. Predictable. More of the same “right thing” that I have done for so long.  Working non-stop since 17, college w/ jobs, career job lined up before I graduated, and then work nonstop until three weeks ago. And this nagging thought would not stop pestering me…”why are you doing this?”  In the morning when I awoke, in the car, in my dreams at night…”why are you doing this?”  And I had no good answer.  To support kids? No, no kids.  To support family? No they are retired and well-funded.  To be able to buy whatever you want? No, I’m not really into material possessions or “toys”.  The only answer I could seem to come up with was, “because it’s what’s expected of a successful person.”  The only answer that seemed to garner a yes was not because of my motivations in life, rather a measure of what others defined as a successful life. 

Slow pause of epiphany.

Sooooo what happens if I throw that out the window? What happens if I cease to scamper down this predefined path of American capitalism that someone has deemed the right life to lead? 

The need to quit, and immediately, became my mantra.  But, being responsible, the real work had just begun.  Time for analysis. Time to slice and dice funding scenarios, risk tolerance, and yes…even external opinions of friends and family. The Libra in me placed each pro and con on the scale, weighing, balancing all of the factors, worst and best case scenarios.  In the end the choice was overwhelmingly clear.  I could do this.  I could jump and I would probably be okay.  I awoke one morning a few months later with the utmost of clarity, I was free to jump. 

Regardless of the outcome of this little experiment, that morning will always be held precious in my life.  The crystal clear certainty, the airiness of freedom, the sheer possibilities that unfolded before me took my breath away. 

And thank goodness my assuredness was so strong, because my company did not want me to go. They routed me through HR, through benefits….explore this option, perhaps this would give you the break you need and then come back.  Sure it was tempting…but it wasn’t what my brain told me I needed.  My inner voice very clearly said, “This is not a leave of absence to recharge and return.  This is a stick of dynamite to the house you have built.”  I want to tear my lovely house down to its concrete slab and rebuild.  I am not ungrateful or feel that I have wasted my life until this point.  Quite the contrary, the life I led up to this point was perfect for me and my needs.  Sizable student loans were paid down, assistance was able to be given to my family and friends in their hours of need, the 401k was seeded early and now simply needs time to grow, homes were purchased, trips taken, and tabs picked up for the group.  It was a lovely little life. Key word “was”.

Perhaps this is what people have called a midlife crisis; it could be, though I dislike the label.  A crisis implies doom, something that needs to be staunched immediately so that everything can return to normal.  That is quite the opposite of what I feel. This is something that needs to be explored, given breath to and let roam.  It could be that, like a well-trained horse, I return to the stable and settle back into the same sort of job. Or I could end up being a bartender in some obscure seaside town. It is all unknown to me at this point. The important bit, the absolutely thrilling bit, is that for the first time in 20 years of working there is a choice. 

I get the feeling that my radical notion of “choice” is not so radical to many others.  They raise an eyebrow as if to say, “well haven’t you had the ability to choose your whole life?”  and yes, they would be correct.  I did, technically, have the ability to choose my whole life. But I never had the bravery to act on it I suppose.  The expectations for my life were presented quite clearly by my parents and pleasing my parents was important.  The path was - excel in school, find a career, be successful, by a home, fall in line.  Even to this day I can clearly remember the disappointment my parents had in me when I decided not to pursue a master’s degree.  This was not the plan.  They both hold masters and/or doctorates and the notion that their only child was stopping at a bachelor’s was a bit appalling.  There was much consternation on their part that I would be dropping out of academia at this pathetically low level.  That was only offset with a sigh of relief as I gained employment in the IT field before graduating and they realized that I would not be flipping burgers and wasting my life.

By the way…“Wasting your life”…what the hell does that mean?  This is not a rhetorical question, I would genuinely be interested to know what people’s definition of this is to themselves.  To me it implies that there is a quantitative measurement of usefulness, and its corollary a measurement of uselessness.  But what are those measurements?  The older I get the more they have shifted.  Is it money?  Is it contentedness in life?  Is it reputation or accolades from your chosen profession?  And is it only for certain predefined “worthy” professions?  In my youth I suppose I would have looked down on a person who didn’t make a lot of money and didn’t have many notable possessions.  Their general happiness was a secondary variable.  Now, it seems to me that contentedness, being happy in one’s day to day existence, is the primary variable in the equation of life.  So if you are a hillbilly in a cabin, fishing and reading all day, living off the land…is that wasting your life?  Or is it the CIO toiling away for 90 hours a week at a start-up that is wasting her life?  Without asking them about how content they are I wouldn’t be able to tell you. 

 It has been a couple weeks and I am ready to start exploring options.  The power down stage is completed…I have slept as much as I want, read my backlog of books, watched TV, caught up on neglected friendships, come to peace with friendships that have been lost, contemplated life and my strengths and flaws.  For the moment I feel clearer about my life than I have in a long time.  When you push away the daily grind it’s amazing how clear the big picture becomes.  Those Europeans have it right…a vacation isn’t 1 or 2 frantic weeks with massive work before you go, and backlog waiting for you upon your return.  It’s a 4 week get away every year to chill the eff out.  It’s been three weeks for me and it’s amazing how refreshed my brain feels.

That’s it for now. Enjoy the day and be kind to each other.  Cheers.

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