I struggled for months before making the decision. I liked my job just fine, the company, my boss, my co-workers. But my spirit was restless, hungry, distracted. I realized I needed to do something new. Although, I was unsure exactly what those details looked like.
Grasping to what I already knew and did well was not my path to a lived life. I was sure of that much. Although, quitting my job without another lined up felt like a risk. Not taking the leap seemed equally as risky.
All along, I’ve felt this longing to create, to write, to make a difference in the unique way I feel called. I can feel it in my bones. A voice inside me calling me to be the person I was born to be. It’s why I switched my major from practical elementary education to impolitic professional writing.
Much like everyone else, I also felt this economic urgency after college. When I was about to graduate in 2009, the market crashed. I felt compelled to safeguard my economic future. I thrust myself into the closest job I could find. I was sucked into reality, into a world constantly telling us who we are and who we ought to be. A world, where E.E. Cummings suggests, “is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else."
At the end of June, I quit my day job. Now, I’m moving on to something new. I’m walking straight into my not-knowing, speaking the as-yet unspoken and taking the risk of failing. I’m bursting my bubble of comfort and convention. I am taking a leap, a leap unlike any other. I am dedicating myself fully to writing.
I’m carving out a new path on my roadmap, amid the valleys, pinnacles and detours. I give myself up to it. I am beginning again, in a different way.