I'll Be Back

For me there were no tears and no moments for long goodbyes. I suspect this is for two reasons:

1 – I had to leave early in order to get to rehearsal for a play I am working on.
2 – I will be back next week.

Yep. Back already. I’ve been wanting to wrap things up neat and tidy so as to leave my co-workers with everything they need to know about the areas in which I have become the resident expert. I was on track to get a lot of that done but a death in the family put me behind and since work was extremely flexible with my needs, I feel I owe it to them to put in a few more hours to make sure everything is on the up and up.

So, while my official last day is today, my unofficial last day is this coming Thursday. My boss is coming in from out of town again and we’ll cap everything off with a dinner and then the formal goodbyes. I’m sure it will hit home then. In the meantime, there are a few hugs, many words to “Keep in touch,” “Drop by and say hello,” and “I won’t be far behind.”

That feels pretty damn good.

Mom, Dad, I Have Some News...

I haven’t really known how to tell my parents that I’m leaving my job but at least now I can do it face to face. There has been a most unfortunate death in the family this week and I am now at home with them thanks to the never-to-be-found-elsewhere flexibility of my job.

I knew they would not be too surprised because I’ve been talking about this for over a year, but the part of me that will always seek my parent’s approval was nervous about how it would go. I had no idea if they would say I’m crazy, offer advice or suggestions of what I should do instead or if they would say, “It’s about damn time!”

Both of them have been in this same situation, my mother most recently, so I suspected they would understand and wish me well with this. They have always supported me and just want to go to sleep at night knowing their son is well fed and alright. In fact, I remember what my father said to me when I told him I wanted to follow a career in acting even though I was one semester away from finishing my engineering degree. It went a little something like this:

“I want to be an actor.”
(5 to 10 second pause)
“You’re going to finish your degree first, right?”
“Oh, absolutely. I’ve put in too much work to just drop that now.”
“Good. Go for it. We’ll support you in whatever you want to do. As long as it’s not illegal.”

That’s basically the gist of it. That and, “make sure you have health insurance.”

And that’s how it went. My mother took a deep breath of anxiety and cringed a little. My father didn’t react much at all, but they understand what it’s like to wake up to another day of feeling like life is being flat-out wasted. They are unsure how I will pay my bills and sustain myself, and frankly, so am I. But that’s all part of the adventure.

Ultimately, I have to carve my own path. The difficult thing for me is that throughout much of my childhood, adolescence and young adulthood, I have been compared to my father. I have been told I look like him, sound like him, act like him and eat like him. (That last one is especially comforting because for a while there I thought I was just a glutton. Supposedly my metabolism will slow down right about now.) So I have always gauged my life by my dad’s opinion of it. That’s not an entirely bad thing but it definitely feeds the gremlin of fear that dwells deep inside. And now it’s time to break from that, and expose myself to the fear of writing my own script for life.

Is This How Nixon Felt?

My boss asked me to draft a formal letter of resignation. Now it’s setting in. The stark reality and the blutness of it all was definitely felt when I told my co-workers and my boss in person and up until now, there has been a feeling of, “I can always take it back.” But now, this is for real – in black and white I am clearly stating that I am walking away from six years here.

What’s difficult is that this is exactly what I’ve wanted for a while and I can think of a few key moments in the last two years where I came an inch away from just walking out right on the spot. And as my wanting to leave has increased, I am now met with a profound sense of loss and sadness; like I’m walking out on a family.

But, “take care of yourself and inevitably you will take care of others” is one of our mantras around here. And that’s pretty much the long and the short of it.

Stress

I came in to work today right in the middle of a crisis-fest. Fifteen malfunctions were going on all at the same time and my co-worker peers over his shoulder to say to me, “You $#%@#!. You can’t leave me with this $%!^.”

Oh but I can, and I will. That is exactly what I’m walking away from.

I jumped in to the fray and helped stomp out the fires yet again and came across the weekly newsletter my company sends out. Within it is a link to an article on ways to keep stress from creeping in. I’ve been preaching that our department is saturated in stress because we are not doing a few of these steps – particularly 5 and 6 – and that something has to give.

Check them out and see if they can be of use to you:

1. Work on things that are important. This may sound obvious, but many of us are tempted to work on easy tasks first so we can have a sense of accomplishment. Time spent on those "easy" tasks can quickly add up, creating even more stress when there does not appear to be enough time left for the important work.

2. Keep an activity log: This will help you figure out what your time is being spent on. Every time you start and end a new activity, including taking a break, make note of the time. Most workers who charge by the hour have learned to do this automatically. If you are not used to tracking your time it may be a bit of an adjustment, but within a few days you should be able to notice any time-wasters you might not have been aware of.

3. Set daily goals: When scheduling your time, assume that something unexpected will come up and build in a cushion of time to deal with it. To minimize the stress of meeting self-imposed deadlines, avoid making promises about when tasks will be completed. If you must commit to a date, be conservative. If you consistently under-promise and over-deliver you could earn a great reputation while reducing your stress.

4. Be gentle with yourself: Aim to meet or even exceed expectations, but don't try to achieve perfection. Wherever possible, delegate routine tasks, even if you think you can do them better than someone else.

5. Avoid interruptions: Unless you are expected to be on call, select a time of day when you will return phone calls and emails. During other times, let your voicemail take messages for you. You can also create an auto-reply for your email to let people know their message has been received. If your email says you will respond within 24 hours if a reply is required, it may deter someone from repeatedly trying to contact you in the meantime.

6. Don't let other people's problems become yours: As Richard Carlson, author of Don't Sweat the Small Stuff at Work, says "If someone throws you the ball you don't have to catch it." When someone comes to you with a problem that isn't yours, try limiting your contribution to advice instead of taking on the task yourself.

7. When you are feeling overwhelmed, say so: Companies want to keep good employees, so most managers will want to know when you are having difficulty. However, instead of saying "I can't do it," offer some possible solutions. For example, if you won't be able to get a major report completed by a particular deadline, you might tell the manager you can either: (1) complete a condensed version by the deadline, (2) complete the entire report by a later date, or (3) meet the deadline if you get some help from coworkers or temporary staff.

The Second Circle of Hell

I arrived at work today and realized that today was going to be the day I would drop the bomb on my other co-workers and my boss, the woman who hired me and to whom I’ve had to ultimately answer for the last six years. The stakes are higher, I’m playing with the big boys now.

I did not arrive at my desk until just before noon due to some tasks I had to run for the job in other offices. The first item of business now that I’m at my office: Lunch. And as we are whisked in to a cab to go to lunch, I wind up alone with my boss’ boss; the big man, the regional director. He wants to talk about the job; how I feel about it; what I think my strengths are; whether I’m more of a career man or a job man. Why Lord!? Why?

Lunch was a rather prolonged experience, especially because I was back in that space of harboring something pretty substantial and it once again made me acutely aware on many levels. Suddenly a nugget of information was dropped: Cut backs are coming and someone in the region will be let go over the next few weeks. I wavered back and forth if I should drop this honey of a newsbreak right in the middle of the conversation or just wait. Besides, if I quit, someone (and I’m not sure who) won’t have the agony of being fired and finding a job. But then again, maybe that’s just what that person will need. Hell, I don’t know.
And as I walked with my supervisor (who already knows my secret) and my boss back to the office (the rest jumped in a cab) I heavily pondered, “Is Now the perfect time?” I held off, knowing that it would read on my boss’ face like a stamp once we were back to the office and it would make things overly uncomfortable.

Which brings us to now. The big man is gone and there is a break in the action of the day. My supervisor calls me and our other co-worker in to his office where my boss is buried in her laptop. I close the door and remain standing while they sit.

“I’m resigning.”

The reaction was less than favorable and I go to great lengths to explain myself and ensure them it is a move that has nothing to do with them. Damn this is not easy and I hate myself for doing it because of the havoc I am wreaking, but it’s a necessary evil. The details that ensued are not important right now. They revolve around discussing the terms of leaving, extending health benefits as long as possible, collecting bonuses, staving off the whole cutback/just-don’t-replace-him issue, etc.

Bottom line: I’m building momentum; my arms are swinging and my feet are that much closer to launching off the cliff and into the air. My heart is pounding like it has in the past when I kissed a girl for the first time.

I need to take steps like this more often.

Feed Me To The Lions

My alarm went off this morning but I was already wide awake. Fear is putting a strangle hold on me and I am seriously reconsidering my choice to quit. How do I expect to support myself and what the heck am I thinking? Even though they want to, there is a reason people don't do this: It's not smart.

When these moments and thoughts seize me I try to focus on the story of the Lions and the Gazelles.

When hunting gazelles, lions typically split into two groups; older and younger. The lions that are long in the tooth, so to speak, are not very fast, their strength is not what it used to be and the only things they have going for them are their size and their roar. They typically hide on one side of a prairie in the tall grass where they are well hidden, while across from them, and at considerable distance, the younger lions make their presence known. Their speed is great and so is their strength. They aren’t as big as the older lions but they are more fierce and deadly.

These younger lions methodically track the gazelles and funnel them so they are trapped in between, but the gazelles are perfectly unaware of the presence of the older group, and as the younger lions stalk the gazelles, they spook them causing them to turn and escape towards the tall grass. At the right moment, the older lions shoot up from within the grass, rear back on their hind legs, roar their mightiest roar, and instill fear in the gazelles, who in turn spin around and run right in to the jaws of the younger lions who slaughter them with great ease.

Had the gazelles kept charging towards the older lions – towards the fear - they would have easily outrun them and escaped.

The First Circle of Hell

Riding to work today I knew it would be time to fish or cut the bait. I had a meeting schedule with my supervisor and if I didn’t drop the news then, I would never do it. If I wussed out, I would be all talk and that would be worse than failing.

The day passed slowly. Having something like this bottled up makes me very aware of time. Senses are heightened. Once 2:30 rolled around we went to a small coffee place across the street and his first question to me was, “So, how’s things?”

Wow. This is it; the moment of truth. Of course, I could make idle chit chat about the job and build up to it. I feel like there should be some sort of pre-show music or something; maybe a segment about my time here narrated by Bob Kostas with some teary music playing underneath. Snap out of it!

I feel like all eyes of everyone on LaSalle Street are on me. They know my secret. They know the news I’m about to break. I can't believe I'm about to say this to; my co-worker; my friend. How the hell do I do this? And then it just comes out:

"I'm done. I've had enough. I'm ready to quit."

Breathe.

I've been sitting on those words for the better part of two years; two years that I was able to live with it, but it's come to a head now and it's time to leap off the edge and see what these ever-growing wings of mine can do.

Is this the smartest move for me? Hard to say. I do not have another job lined up that I will easily, or with slight discomfort, slide in to. I do not have an inheritance or much money saved up on which to live while I vigorously try to find what it is I want to do now that I've grown up.

At the very same time, this is the Exact time to play this card: I am not married, have no mouths depending on me to put food on the table – except mine, of course, but I am prone to going long stretches without eating. I'm the only person I'm insuring and my biggest responsibility is a $1000 per month mortgage. Yeah, it's hefty when there is no guarantee of income but I'm only going around once - in this form, anyway. I will detest myself at 40... 50... 60... if I do not take this risk.

Edison's response to the remark that he failed 10,000 times before he created a successful light bulb?

"The process wasn't 10,000 failures. It was 10,000 steps."

Panic is setting in along with mild hyperventilation. "That's great for Edison and for every hippy-dippy, feel good idealist out there but the truth is, money don't grow on trees and in this concrete world of Pay Up Now, love ain't gonna pay the bills." Dear God, what have I done?

Easy. Breathe. I’m going to be alright. It's not like I don't have any skills, aren't smart or really haven't been here before. I've just injected myself with a healthy mixture of life, awareness, risk, and heart. I did right and I am about to start a wonderful, scary, fantastic and unimaginable journey.

That's more than most poor suckers can say in this life.

Chickenwuss

I belong to a group that meets weekly and last night one of the members took us through a journaling exercise based on the idea of where we are in our lives. Given my situation of anxiety and fear over making a metaphorical leap, I instantly thought of the times my friends and I would go cliff jumping at Hamburg Cove; a small inlet off the Connecticut River with rock faces that reach as high as 50 feet. When the river was at high tide, we would jump off spots of varying heights, but the mother jump was right at the top. Jumping at low tide is not smart because you increase the risk of getting stuck in the mud and possibly drowning. It’s always better to jump when the conditions are right.

My feeling of being at this juncture is a lot like the first time I made the big jump. At 50 feet up, the water looks a long way down. The jump at 15 feet is easy; even the one at 20 feet isn’t so bad. It’s the mother jump that strikes the fear and I watch people – even snotty little 12 year olds – jump with excitement and apparent ease, as if it’s something they’re suppose to do or something that everyone just does. And yet, my feet felt like cement blocks and it will take a miracle for me to airborne.

What if I jump wrong? What if I hit the water wrong? What if it hurts? What if I get stuck? What if I drown? What if?

And then the moment comes; that moment where the obvious truth slaps me in the face and asks me, “What are you going to do about it?” The aforementioned snotty 12 year old steps up to where I am, turns and calls me a Chickenwuss and carelessly launches himself out and over this piece of the river, splashing down and surfacing all the while people around me are mocking me and my fear. I have no choice now. If I don’t jump right at this moment, it will haunt me every day of my life. My arms start swinging back and forth, my legs and body rocking with them. I can feel my self edge closer and closer to my toes.

My legs drive and launch up and off the rock face, out over the river and for a second I am just hanging in space.

I can’t believe I did it! I jumped!

But my excitement and pride are short lived and I focus on the fact that I’m descending quickly. I try to take in the scenery from up here but it’s all such a blur that I can’t remember anything. And though I think I have all the time in the world with this flying bit, my fall is rapidly coming to an end and I begin to focus on hitting the water the right way – straight as an arrow, feet flat and parallel to the water. I torpedo in and it’s as if someone applies the breaks for me. My legs and arms spread and slow my submersion. I surface and catch my breath; not because I forgot to hold it before hitting the water but because of the adrenaline rush.

It wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought it would be and it was more exhilarating than I could have ever imagined. My friends are back up at the top cheering my triumph and I swim over to the base of the rocks, climb up, reach the trail that takes me back to the top and I do it again.

And again.

And again.

Panic Room

My dreams are getting stranger. The latest one involved snow and a ferret. I have yet to look up what they might possibly mean and I’m kind of afraid to find out. I don’t think the tux references I had last night are such a big thing because I just came off my second wedding weekend in a row and tuxes have played a pivotal role for me. But that’s neither here nor there.

My anxiety attacks are picking up a little. My standard “As Soon As I Wake Up” attack isn’t going anywhere any time soon, that’s for damn sure. And if I don’t catch those quickly enough and get myself together, it sets the tone for the whole day. I hate when that happens. However, they are starting to hit me at completely random moments now and I’m not happy about it. Here’s what usually happens:

My mind spirals at warp speed into, ‘How the hell am I going to afford to do this?” You see, I don’t have much money saved up. I spent much of the last six years severely paying off loans and debt, which is a good thing – cut it by 25% in 2 years alone. Anything I did save went in to the purchase of my condo and I’ve been trying to scrape together some funds to help finance this jump ever since. But back to the lesson at hand.

Soon, images of heavy drinking, me rocking in the corner wearing nothing but my boxers, horrible foreclosure, repo, and panhandling enter my mind. (This typically transpires in a matter of 4 seconds) Once all of that is securely lodged in my mind, and the accompanying feeling of fear and despair have taken up residence in my abdomen, my body reminds itself to breathe. During all of the horrible visualizing, my lungs temporarily shut down while the anxiety sets in. It’s as if fear and oxygen can’t enter the body at the same time. The emergency generator of my lungs kicks in and fresh oxygen (as fresh as it can be in Chicago) filters in, but only at the most basic levels to sustain the system. It’s not like I’m taking deep, soothing, calming breaths; just enough to get something in there while I continue down this path of hell.

My mind is full of horribly negative scenarios, fear and despair are having a ball in my guts, my breathing is as shallow as a puddle and then my hearing goes. If you are talking to me while I have an anxiety attack, you can bet I will have zero recollection of it if I ever pull out of this spin. Yep, now is the time to tell me everything you do not like about me because I have no way of comprehending what is going on.

And speaking of spinning, that’s what the world around me starts to do for about five seconds. And here is where I have learned to make a conscious break and bring the madness to a halt. It hasn’t always been this way, I’ve had to teach myself this little drill. I close my eyes and start taking those deep, calming breaths that easily escaped me earlier in the episode and slowly gather my wits. This goes on for about as long as my anxiety fit did and I gather myself and move on.

It’s not pretty and it’s not always that dramatic. I’m getting better at catching all of this early and stomping it out until the next one. This used to happen to me in college when I was afraid of my future, my choice of major – basically life – and had really gone away while I blissfully toiled at my secure job. I suppose this is all necessary prologue to the actual jump itself. Good grief.