(And a blurry selfie too, of course. One of my goals for my 28th year of life is to take more photos!)
I always feel like birthdays are a good time for self-reflection and assessment, and this year I think I’d also like to share some of that. (Note: I didn’t start with the introspection immediately because I *did* have to be a hot mess first: went from work celebrations to the kiddos singing to me at practice to using coupons at a new bar down the road (second note: this was a story all on its own) to live music and dancing to my bff and me accidentally faux-kidnapping a Lyft driver who then read through my writing portfolio and learned about cat toys.) But anyway.
When I turned 27, one of my challenges to myself was to begin acting on Maya Angelou’s wisdom that, “When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time.” Key word here being “first.” If you know me well, you know that despite everything, I believe in people. I believe in their goodness, their capacity to change for the better, their ability to achieve anything they put their mind to. Try as I might (and trust me, I have TRIED), I can’t help that—it’s just how I’m wired. That quality is part of what makes me a good coach, a good teammate, a good partner and coworker…but it also means that I don’t walk away from unhealthy relationships, toxic work environments, or generally persnickety felines when I really should. Hands down, that tendency is also what has caused me the most heartache, and the most wasted time and energy, throughout my life.
I didn’t post about it previously, but this past November I up and quit my job. Given that I value loyalty highly and am a self-professed workaholic—and more strict about my finances than just about anyone I know—this was a big freaking deal for me. I had been responsible for everything written that came out of my company, including press releases and media relations, blog posts, web content and SEO, all our social media, internal comms, ghostwriting, and marketing collateral. At the time, I was up for a promotion, we had initiated processes to start building my team, and I was slated to be the company’s director of communications down the road. I actually loved the work itself (and basically everyone at the company) up til the very day I left, but along the way the environment had become truly unbearable.
Truthfully, I knew early on that things might get bad (but hoped I was wrong). As soon as my direct report told me, “You know, I thought I was a pretty good writer until you came along,” I had to face the reality that things would possibly get rough—I had not, however, banked on that working relationship becoming legitimately caustic at random times and for inexplicable reasons (at other times, we had a very good rapport and I don’t feel like he’s a “bad person,” but everything was also completely unpredictable and unstable). When things were bad, I started working as late as 8 p.m., typing away and holding back furious tears, for the sole reason that I hoped if I could just work hard enough I could be less angry at how I was being treated. Because that’s how I cope: I work harder, I hit the gym for two-a-days, I run merciless sprint intervals; whatever it takes to make life make sense again.
But none of that worked, and neither did escalating the issue more than once. It took a lot of people validating that what was going on was truly unacceptable, and “low-key sexist AF and insulting” as some put it, before I admitted to myself that there was nothing left I could do to fix it. In preparation, I immediately ceased contributions to my 401k and IRA, paused all other investments, and started strictly rationing my Adderall in case I wouldn’t have health insurance soon (because y’all KNOW I’m way too cheap to pay for COBRA, but this world doesn’t need me unmedicated either!). I left without even having another job fully lined up (note: I still had my side hustles, but that’s different). Typically though, I had allocated 30-50% of each paycheck to net worth-related things, so I knew I could still make it a few months without dipping into my savings if I didn’t have funds coming in.
It sounds excessive now, but I had actually been struggling with that decision since May: quitting anything feels like admitting to weakness, to fallibility, to a lack of control…none of which I am particularly fond of embracing. I was determined to leave without burning any bridges, and I am proud to say that I managed that. As soon as things calmed down from the last time my supervisor had lashed out inappropriately, when it felt like things were okay again (and after I knew my insurance would last til the end of that month), I turned in my resignation.
Right as I was leaving, there arose another issue in my personal life that straight knocked me flat on my back for a while (which I’ve blogged about here), and I mean completely. But suddenly, I couldn’t throw myself into my work to help me pretend life wasn’t hard; let me tell you, coaching was a God-send during that time. I went completely AWOL from real (adult) people (though I sent cat pictures to my momma so she would know I was alive), unintentionally stopped eating, and starting drinking a whole lot of tequila-spiked wine …aaand then going for very long drunk runs in the middle of the night (probably because I wasn’t taking my ADHD meds anymore lmao). When I wasn’t drunk-running or tipsy-lifting though, I was drunk-writing—suddenly, I empathized a hell of a lot more with Ernest Hemingway than I had ever desired. Eventually, maybe I’ll publish some of that.
So fast forward: eventually I went back to freelancing with a creative services agency. In February, I began contracting with a marketing agency downtown as their first “true-blue” copywriter, and that’s been interesting in so many ways. Currently, every onsite employee is a woman…which for me means no bogus HR conversations (like the one resulting simply from my being curvy: I won that encounter, but it was upsetting and unnerving because I knew who reported me); no casually uttered rape jokes or other sexist BS in the workplace; no assuming I don’t understand Excel or basic analytics (because maths and womenz!) despite my graduate-level statistical analysis training…and experience as a scientific researcher at a top 20 university…with an authorship to prove it… Nvm.
The CEO here, who is something of a pioneer in the field, speaks about how important it is to lead with empathy, about the value of what feels like an egalitarian organizational structure despite our titles, about learning each other’s strengths and challenges and communication styles so we can truly serve our clients and each other. Most importantly, all of that is put into action, which I think is rare. And alsooo, the hourly rate I was offered would be the equivalent of a $14,000 raise over my last salary. And I happen to like money, so there’s that.
On my birthday, despite how swamped everyone was, my coworkers got me (absolutely delicious) brownies, sang me happy birthday, and asked me their go-to bday questions, “What was the best thing that happened to you this past year? What are you most proud of, and why?” It’s funny, but I realized that quitting my damn job is likely what I am most proud of from 27, especially because I fought so hard to find another solution. Part of me is still surprised I did it tbh, and there are days even now where the lingering doubt and anxiety borne from the stress of that situation creep in unbidden. If there is a wreck on the way to work, I still almost panic about the possibility of walking in three minutes late until I remember that I am allowed to be human here. I get anxious about so quickly writing content for companies worth billions…and then remember that I am competent and dope and up to the challenge, which is why they trust me and don’t feel the need to micromanage, spy, or put me down.
Today, on my 13th day at the office, our CEO pulled me into an impromptu meeting with my supervisor. She told me that she hadn’t anticipated having to make this decision quite so soon, but that given the quality and speed of my work, they want my hands on as much of the company and client work as possible. I’m bumping up to full-time hours starting Monday, they are now laying the groundwork for me to completely take over my first client account (including concepts and strategy—eek!), and they have given me the heads up that if I am willing, and believe I would be happy here, they would like to formally “buy me out” from my agency at the beginning of April.
My point in all the rambling is this: leaving familiar territory can be so scary, even when you’re miserable where you are. You worry about feeling like a failure, you worry about actually BEING a failure or a slacker, you doubt yourself and your ability, and I think sometimes a small part of you wonders if you really, truly deserve better. But then you come out the other side and suddenly discover that there really are people who will value your talent—and pay you like it—who won’t be threatened by your knowledge and who won’t try to bully or intimidate you. Especially for women in the corporate world (and just the world in general if we date/ugh), that can be a lot more rare than we would like to think.
It took me a little time to get back to a state of near-competent adulting, but I will say that life at 28 is already looking a whole lot better than 27.