Yesterday I finally said enough was enough and gave my notice at my day job. It isn’t some “two-weeks-and-I’m-outta-there” thing, I just told them that I wanted to leave and that they had as long as they need to replace me. Could be six months, a year, maybe even shorter than that (which is what I’m hoping for, now that it’s on the table). I figured it was the fair thing to do, given that they’ve always been fair to me.
I had planned to wait until 2017. We even have a whiteboard up on the wall called “Freedom 17” that has all the things we want squared away by then. I turn 48 tomorrow, and my goal was to give notice on my 50th, with a plan to be gone by June. Late last year, early this, though, it became more and more apparent that I would be hard-pressed to make it that far. Little problems that used to roll off my shoulders with a shrug were becoming borderline meltdowns, which isn’t like me at all. Julia even had what she called an intervention to get me to consider that maybe I should try and bail sooner. Once I decided I would do that, the last couple weeks have been better, knowing that I’d retreat if necessary. Then a couple mild dust-ups that left me quivering with rage made me realize it was all getting to me more than it should, so I made the decision.
It is still stressful, but I also expect the steady paycheck has become a crutch that has allowed me to be less than gonzo in pursuit of doing other things. It’s something like put up or shut up time when it comes to increasing the freelance writing and photography stuff I’ve been doing, and I welcome the challenge. It will be interesting to see how things play out.