Free Falling Into Simplicity

It probably isn't surprising to anyone who's been following my blog during my sabbatical that I quit my job today. It certainly wasn't surprising to my (former) boss, since he'd also been following my blog while I was out. Gotta love the power of Google.

I've been silent these last few weeks as I really settled into the rhythm of being away from the daily grind, worked on my book, and sat quietly on sunny afternoons in the backyard contemplating my next move.

I've never left a job without having the even higher paying 2.0 version already lined up. But in those quiet moments I became sure it was the right thing to do for a variety of reasons. Taking a risk right now feels like the path to a greater reward – and not a monetary one for a change (although I would like to continue to live in San Francisco, one of the most expensive cities on the planet, so I'll hopefully eke out SOME cash along the way).

So, as of tomorrow I'm going to be joining a friend as a partner in the marketing business she started a few months ago. Working for myself for the first time, my goals are simple: have passion for my work, focus on the areas of marketing I really care about, and help build a fledgling business with a worthy mission.

At the same time I want to have a level of flexibility in my life and not lose the natural rhythms I've discovered in the last few weeks. Again, simple things such as continuing to work on my book, driving less and consuming less fuel, practicing yoga and meditation to enhance my spiritual life, and spending time with my quickly ageing canine best friend.

Maybe this is my own personal version of having it all.

If not now, when?

What’s Next?

I was having dinner last night with some smart, amazing, highly successful women. They own their own thriving business, started a few years ago after reaching the pinnacle of their profession. As the wine flowed freely, the conversation turned to my sabbatical and the reasons behind it. I explained how dissatisfied I felt with my career, which was surprising to me given how hard I had worked to achieve professional success. Surely, I surmised to myself, it must be so empowering and energizing to work for yourself. To be your own boss. To be so personally invested in the work you do everyday.

But, to my surprise, I found adamant nods of sympathy as I described my feelings of ineptitude and boredom, despite the fact that my marketing jobs have become increasingly interesting and challenging over the years. Turns out that each of these women are in the exact same place that I am. Wanting some unnamed, intangible "more" that can't be articulated, and feeling ungrateful for being dissatisfied when we are the generation that is supposed to be having it all. Some are married, some are not. Some have children, some do not. So what is the common denominator leading to these feelings pressing down upon us all?

My generation of women (mid 30's to mid 40's or so) seems to be in a tight spot. We weren't the ones who had to crash through the glass ceiling like our mothers did. It was always assumed that if we wanted to have careers and families, or just careers, or just families – or neither – our choices were our own. Any choice we could conceive of was available to us. Ours for the taking. We rose quickly through the professional ranks, many of us achieving our definitions of success at younger ages than any generation of women before us. In my own case, I was an SVP by age 35…

So we find ourselves in the middle of these lives we've crafted, scratching our heads and saying to ourselves:

"OK. So now what? What's next?"

Add to that dilemma, a phenomenon which certainly isn't particular to women: our generation grew up with remote controls and hundreds of channels, we have short attention spans, high IQs, and the expectation that if we become bored (which we easily do), we are entitled to just change the channel. The expectation of changing the channel seems to have crossed over to our entire lives.

Staying in the same job for 25 years like our parents did seems like a death sentence. We need constant change.

Previous generations reached the pinnacle of their careers, and soon after it was time for retirement.

Achieving our goals is happening earlier and earlier in life. We are living longer, and able to be young and active for much longer. When my grandmother was 60, she had blue hair, wore orthopedic shoes and support hose, and walked with a shuffle. When I'm 60 I will still be wearing 4 inch heels, have a low percentage of body fat, and practice bikram yoga daily.

Maybe it is the new norm that the mid-life crisis happens not because we fear the aging process, but because we've achieved our goals early, our choices seem endless, and suddenly we are unsure what to do next.

What's next????

Today I don't know, but I look forward to figuring it out.

The Gift of Time

Starting tomorrow, I will be taking a one month unpaid sabbatical from work to focus on my writing. It feels like such a generous gift to give myself. Even as someone who is relatively accustomed to self-love--whether at spas, shopping for shoes, or enjoying an enviable San Francisco dining experience with friends.

Still.

Judging from the reaction of friends and colleagues, the gift of time to focus on a neglected passion must be the most lavish and coveted gift of all. Over the past few weeks as I've mentioned at social gatherings that I'm taking a month off (or possibly longer) to write, many people got a faraway look in their eyes, lowered their voices, and leaned in to whisper conspiratorially about their fervent desire to step away from the day to day. To fulfill a lifelong dream of writing, traveling, doing nonprofit work, or just doing nothing.

Online friends have emailed me encouragement, or shared their own dreams of focusing on that long-neglected thing they know they'd be brilliant at – if only there were enough hours in the day.

For me, like so many others, there never have been enough hours in the day. Creative writing is always something I've wanted to do, but I've been on the career express train for the last 15 years, and it has taken up all of my creative energy. Now, I find myself at 39 wondering whether I want to arrive at the destination I set out toward when I boarded this train.

What does an alternate life look like? Can I really step away from the whirlwind pace of my life in high tech marketing to find some inner stillness that I think must be required to really write well?

Hopefully this month will be a step towards finding out, so stay tuned!