A Hard Choice: Walking Away From My Job

I remember the first time I thought to myself, "I don't like the person I'm becoming."

I didn't know it at the time, but that mental note was merely a spark. It was a few months into a new job that, on paper, had everything I was looking for to develop at this time in my career: multiple sites across a wide geography, a sizeable P&L, a team of facility leaders, and opportunities to grow the business. I had re-located to Seattle, WA; home of America's soccer mecca, surrounded by mountains and the great outdoors, and in proximity, for the first time in years, to two of my siblings. Check, check, and check.

Six-and-half months in, I walked away. I woke up on Monday, August 1, without a job for the first time. It was my 30th birthday.

Throughout my career, I have committed to being open and transparent about my workplace experiences in the hope that others may find something useful for their own career journey and progression. That also includes the times when things unfold in a way I would not have anticipated at the outset. This is one of those times.

I began as a Regional Operations Director with a lot of enthusiasm for the work ahead; I had sought a challenge and believed I found it. It did not take long, however, before I become stretched thin. The particulars of the who, what, and why are not for this piece. No one person is responsible nor was any of it intentional. My role soon turned into a daily existence in survival mode. When you are struggling to keep your head above water and are continually told to "lean in", you eventually start to drown.

For me, the stress soon infiltrated every inch of my being and every corner of my life. I woke up at 3am consumed by thoughts about work and unable to fall back asleep. Or at 5am in anticipation of the phone ringing with another early morning issue, the same way our body adjusts to an alarm clock, and we simply get up on our own. When I did summon the energy and motivation for physical exercise, an easy 5-mile run at a 7-minute pace morphed into a 2-mile run at a snail’s pace. Hyperventilation usually followed.

It felt as though a 45-pound weight always sat on my chest. No space or activity was sacred anymore. I became irritable, easily frustrated, and bitter. I lost 10 pounds. I started seeing a therapist. I kept thinking, "I don't like the person I'm becoming."

I slept until 10am or 11am every Saturday and Sunday in vain attempts to "recover." Members of my team consistently told me I looked tired and worn out. When away from work, particularly on the weekends, I would get anxious just from hearing my phone ping or vibrate from a text message. I always feared that whatever it was would undo me a little bit more.

I listened to wise counsel and asked for help at work, for assistance with my snowballing situation. I communicated as clearly as I knew how. I delegated as responsibly as I could. I prioritized as effectively as I could. And I fought as hard as I could, before I couldn't fight any longer.

I'd be remiss here if I did not acknowledge the colleagues who could see it in my eyes (one of them did so, quite literally) and did what they could to give me a chance. I was blessed with selfless co-workers who stepped well outside their lane in the name of teamwork to try and assist. To them, "Thank you."

There is a difference between hard and unhealthy; accepting that is what made the difference. I woke up on my 30th birthday at the threshold of a dual season of uncertainty and discomfort, neither of which I have much familiarity with. I fully recognize and own the professional and personal risk that my decision to walk away entails - a walk I went on to begin with because I could no longer bare the cost. As the saying goes, I did not leave for a prettier girl - I did not have anything else lined up to fall back on.

Someone I love and respect reminded me that success is only ever linear in an MBA-brochure. It may take a little while, but I will come around to that understanding in due time. Said the same person: "No matter how far you go down the wrong road, turn around."

So now I find myself in the midst of a philosophical journey. Many, many questions, and a slow revelation of answers. What does this experience mean for the larger context of my career and life? What have I learned from all of this? How can I do better the next time? Who am I becoming and who do I want to become? And of course, the ever pressing: What comes next?

I am nearly recovered from my own mental disappointment for leaving. I took it hard, despite knowing and believing that it was best for me. Naturally, I am hard on myself about most things - the man in the mirror has always been me. Physically, I look and feel like a different person - the toll was real.

The coda to all of this is also simultaneously the foundation: the entire process of deciding to leave and my current journey into the unknown is all an exercise in faith. It is more so spiritual formation than professional discovery. I believe that I am created, loved, forgiven, and care for, but does the life I lead actually reflect that? Do I really trust God for all he says he is?

There is a little bit of prodigal in all of us. What I know for certain is that, right now, I'm on my way home. As the dark and painful valley of the last few months slowly ascends to a hill with a brighter day, the words of Charles Spurgeon continue to move me forward: "I have learned to kiss the wave that throws me against the Rock of Ages."

I am a free agent and very much open to what the future holds. My anxiety about the unknown is slowly fading, giving way to a spirit of expectation. I recently heard someone on a podcast say, referring to a time of life transition similar to mine, "Embrace the uncertainty; you don't get times this electric very often. Literally anything can happen."

I covet your prayers, welcome any leads or discussions about potential opportunities, and as always, will accept your feedback on this piece.