Lights Out.
An ending. A fall. A beginning. What it means to quit something you love.
Coldplay’s Viva La Vida is the anthem of endings for me. It is the last song I play on the last day of work at every job I ever quit. I also like to put my favourite episode of Suits (Season 2 Episode 8) on repeat in the days leading up to my exit. That’s the episode where Harvey takes a break from it all to go down memory lane and spend time at his father’s graveside.
Two weeks ago, I played Viva La Vida again. I had pressed “send” on an email which had my resignation letter attached to it six weeks earlier. Turning in my resignation was the capitalist equivalent of turning off the Eiffel Tower at 7 P.M.
Six. That’s the number of times I updated the date on my resignation letter. One for each month leading up to final submission. I loved my last job. I loved the people I worked with. I loved the people I worked for. That morning as I sat in silence, looking out of a window on Bishop Aboyade Cole Street, the timer ticked down and I ran out of the chance to retract the email. Then three words came to mind. Even Kobe retired…
The last two quarters had been a struggle. The demands of personal and professional life had left me more burnt out than a candle with a wick of molten magma. For the last six months I had been swimming without arms and every time I came up for air, I ended up with a mouthful of saltwater. It felt like every pedestal I climbed became a crucifix. So I quit…
What does quitting a job you love without a backup option feel like? It feels like falling out of a well-built spaceship because you want to feel the air on your face. It feels like you’re a cat thrown out of the top floor of a castle by a reckless child. And speaking of cats…
When people say cats always land on their feet, no one talks about the anxiety between height and floor. No one writes about the questions the cat asks as the distance between its legs and the floor shorten:
“Did I really have to jump?”
“What if this is my last life?”
“Wetin be this one like this?”
I know these questions because I have directed them at myself. Do you have any idea what it means to be woken up by anxiety at 3 AM and have no answers to the questions which were your alarm? As much as everyone is going to believe you’ll land on your feet, there will be moments when the one person who will doubt you is the person who has to do the landing. You. You are going to be your own Judas Iscariot. You are going to second guess and triple guess your abilities and decisions.
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When I was much younger, I really wanted to succeed in three roles. Husband. Father. Son. For me, work was a bus-stop that became a destination. And I loved it. One of the favourite endorsements on my LinkedIn profile describes me as someone that “…understands balance and that makes him a great team player; he knows when to lighten the mood and get serious work done.”
Last year, I lost that balance. I could still lighten the mood and get the serious work done but it felt more like an obligation than a natural turn of events. What had previously come as naturally as breathing now felt like a crucifixion. It felt like I had lost my way and myself.
Looking back, I am grateful for the privilege that comes with being able to take a leap of faith as immense as quiting my job but I cannot deny the fact that I could take it because I am single and childless. My responsibilities do not breathe oxygen. I will be fine, largely.
The other day at the gym, the instructor asked if I was a beginner. I answered “Yes”. I cannot remember the last time I was a beginner at anything. It sure feels good to be a beginner at something and get the chance to experience things from scratch, even though they are as mundane as obliques and planks.
I will always be the guy who gives blood, sweat, toil and tears for his job. I will always be the guy “…who can get serious work done.” While I was senior associate and head of compliance when I left my job, it is a breath of fresh air to be described with a term other than “corporate lawyer”, “hard worker”, “late night guy”…
Two years ago, when I was asked to submit a quote for my work profile, it was an easy pick. Uncle Aaron’s quote from Into the Spiderverse. "You are on your way, just keep going.” As I move on to whatever is next, it’s time to keep going, free fall and all. There’s a bottle of wine I’ll open when I move on to the next thing. This is not a retirement. This is a reset.
As always, whatever is next will be earned not given. It is time to earn my place again. Earn my stripes. Do the work and reap the rewards. Fall in love with the routine again, one day, one step at a time.
Viva La Vida
Photo by Daniel Putzer on Pexels
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"Looking back, I am grateful for the privilege that comes with being able to take a leap of faith as immense as quiting my job but I cannot deny the fact that I could take it because I am single and childless. My responsibilities do not breathe oxygen. I will be fine, largely."
👆🏾This is definitely my favorite part of this write up. When someone asked why I quit my job without a backup plan, I simply said—why not? I’m allowed to take a break. That’s the whole point of working hard, saving, and investing—to have the freedom to step away when I need to.
I recognize that I could make this choice because I don’t have dependents. My responsibilities don’t breathe oxygen. And I’ll be fine—more than fine, actually. It was the best 6 months of my life.
What a beautiful post and such a brave thing to do. And really, words I needed to hear as I think about what is best for me and my future. You'll be fine. Of that, I am certain 🩷