A white cake sat in the middle of the table; on either side were bowls of chips and punch, trays of fruit and veggies, cookies, cheese. The conference room was packed with people I knew well and spent time with off-site; people I had an over the phone relationship with, calling them when I had a client sitting in front of me who needed resources I didn't have the authority to offer, and people I had cordial relationships with but never thought much about outside of work. Gifts in colorful bags were hidden under decorative tissue; others were wrapped in shiny paper, poly-ribbon bows on top. A card everyone jotted short, farewell messages in circulated the room, and, between conversations on what was next, I watched joyful expressions turn to sadness as the hour approached its end, goodbye imminent, hanging over us like the bittersweet moments after graduation. We'd promise to keep in touch, but life would ultimately pave a new path for us to follow. And at forty, I was again the graduate, moving on to a new adventure that some had no trouble denouncing--for its risks and unknowns--in long emails, voicemails, and over lunch dates disguised as catch-up sessions that quickly turned into embarrassing monologues riddled with warnings, shoulda-coulda--woulda's, and a bone-deep desperation I dodged.
"I've already made up my mind," I said, momentarily silencing their apprehension.
"Aren't you scared?" they asked.
I was.
I was afraid to let go of a career I had once enjoyed. And I was afraid that if I didn't let go I'd be forever tethered to a routine I now, most days, tolerated. Like so many others, years of promotions promising speedy climbs up invisible ladders, big offices overlooking quiet meadows, and increased workloads consuming all free time, meant I wore a smile on my face during the day and chased sleep in the wee hours. But I didn't know how to untangle myself from the safety of this net, how to return to a time when I wasn't driven by false victories, by the race through ranks that had redefined who I was while I was buried underneath mounds of work.
I worried that leaving would leave a gaping hole I'd spend the rest of my life trying to fill. I fretted at the thought of myself frozen in time, memory stranding me in the past when things were good, tolerable. It was like floating down the river under a dark cloud. I couldn't see where I was going, but I didn't dare jump out of the boat. I let the waves carry me until the sky opened, revealing the sun's soft glow, just enough to light the way to safety.
WordPress.com
No comments:
Post a Comment