One Year Out - A Reflection

How making money almost ruined my life.

Today marks one year since my last day at my corporate job of almost a decade. Millennials rarely stay that long in one company, mostly because we’re not sure how to advance as quickly as we’d like to, and often because we are searching for a “right fit” unlike generations before us. For me, my time at this Fortune 5 conglomerate represents years of hustle. Years of grind. Years of hustling and grinding myself into the ground for a company that literally did not know who I was.

The people were not the problem – for the most part, the people were (and are) wonderful – some of my life’s best friends. The environment of my chosen career was toxic for me because it became my sole focus in life. I was good at my job. I won commercial excellence awards for many years and achieved greatness through my “Platinum” status as a top performer in the company. As an employee I worked hard, I said the right things, I bent until I broke.

But I broke long before my last day on the job, and I didn’t realize it had happened for years. For that reason, toward the end of my tenure, every request felt like an imposition. Every meeting a chore, every email an inconvenience. I was joyless in the work that once inspired me. I took my frustrations out on well-meaning colleagues, and even more often on my (so, so patient) husband. And I didn’t know why I was miserable. One year later, I feel like I have gained so much clarity, and although it is likely just the tip of the iceberg, I thought it would be beneficial to reflect.

I’ll rewind my story a little for the sake of context: I was a great student. I lived to make others proud – first my parents, then my teachers, then my bosses. There was no bigger high for me than straight A’s on my report card, seeing my name in the Newspaper or on a Dean’s List, earning the awards, giving the graduation speech. The feeling of praise and acknowledgement from those I respected motivated me to achieve at the highest levels. That is, until I started earning money, at which point the almighty dollar became both my motivation and my metric for success.

We’ve all heard that college is for finding your passion, but a liberal arts degree (even with a business major) still rewards the well-rounded. I graduated with a load of student debt, a million memories, and lifelong friends. But I still didn’t really know what I wanted to be when I grew up. I leveraged good grades, a resume packed with extra-curriculars and leadership positions, and my well-honed interview skills to land a position in a prestigious leadership training program at a world-renowned company. I had sought out a job with the highest earning potential for a 20-something, and I had landed it. It felt like a dream come true.

And it was! I lived my twenties traveling around the globe for business and pleasure. I lived a cosmopolitan life of great restaurants, delicious wine, and Instagram-worthy sunsets. I wanted to provide for myself and create the life I had always dreamt of – and I did. My feminist sensibilities were satisfied. I felt great pride telling others where I worked and what I did. On paper, it was all perfect. I felt I had achieved my destiny, and so I focused on the tasks at hand without much soul searching as to “what was next” or whether I actually wanted to do this work in the long term.

Making six-figures in my early and mid-twenties conditioned me to a world of excess, and I lost myself to the competitiveness of it all. I lost sight of some of my values in the quest to outdo my competitors, sometimes my colleagues, and ALWAYS myself. I traded the reasons I started this career (to create good, to challenge myself, to enrich the world around me and the lives of others) in exchange for a constant need to be the BEST. In the process, I lost sight of what is truly needed for a good life. I lost myself in pursuit of that ever-growing number.

Managers asked regularly what motivated us. The answer was always the same for my colleagues and myself: money. We do this job for the money. If you want our behaviors to change, incentivize us with more money. Ironically, the business was very bad at following through on using financial incentives beyond our annual compensation plans, but that’s how engrained the money culture really was among our commercial teams. It didn’t need to be reinforced. It was the undercurrent of my career that eventually became the obsession of my life.

The year I first cracked $300K was easily the most miserable year I had ever experienced. I was traveling lavishly, but mostly alone. I spoke with my friends and teammates regularly, but mostly by phone or text. I spent an average of between five and six hours in the car every day, driving from client to client, account to account, chasing the dopamine rush of a signature. All of the highways blurred together. And then I leaned into that blur with a martini or two, or a bottle of wine, almost every night. I would fall asleep to Netflix and be up only a few hours later to hit the road again.

I didn’t know what I really wanted out of my life during that time. But I knew I was expected to make the sale, hit the goal, and then do it again the next day, so that’s what I did. A lifetime of embracing external sources of motivation had conditioned me perfectly for this mission – and I was a star employee because of it. And, I truly believe now, I was killing myself for my job. My health suffered. Mentally, physically, and emotionally, I had never been in worse shape. Totally disconnected from my purpose, totally disconnected from myself. The spark that defined me had diminished – and the people I was closest to were beginning to notice.

My problem was that I didn’t know where to go or what to do next. I had been chasing an arbitrary idea of “success” for so long that I didn’t know what I really valued anymore. By the day, I became more and more entangled in the web I had woven for myself of “stuff.” Increasingly beautiful apartments in increasingly expensive cities. Increasingly elaborate trips to increasingly exotic locations. Increasingly luxurious items purchased with increasingly skyrocketing credit card limits. I was “successful,” and I was miserable. I had completely lost myself and everything that was authentically important to me.

But then I had my daughter, and in an instant, the world reframed itself. My purpose was reestablished. My motivation had never been clearer. Her shine was so bright in my life, that any glitz and glam of the lifestyle I had been living completely faded into the background. She ignited the spark that I had dimmed through years of misplaced focus and complacency.

It honestly brings me to tears to think about the transformation that occurred within me in the days and weeks after becoming a mother. The focus of my life had changed overnight, but also, my computer and work phone were truly OFF for the first time in almost a decade. The shift was monumental. Despite interruptions from my newborn every few hours, I was sleeping better than I had in years. I struggled with Postpartum Anxiety, but in between these episodes, I was experiencing the most profound moments of joy and peace that I had ever, ever felt.

It was earth-shattering. I returned to work after maternity leave with a renewed sense of self and a strong sense of optimism for my future with the company. It wasn’t more than two weeks later that I knew I needed to leave. I’m going to gloss over these details because they are too important. The story of my experience of new motherhood in corporate America deserves its own headline, and I will share that story another day. So I made the truly heart-wrenching decision – the one that I knew with every fiber of my being I had to make – and I left.

I cried so hard when I shared the news with my team that I physically could not speak. I know I’m an emotional person. I knew how agonized I had been by this decision. I knew how much I felt like I was letting them down. But I could not have anticipated in a thousand lifetimes how difficult that moment would actually be for me. It was the moment that I finally decided that my happiness, that I – me, myself, no one else – was more important than the commitments I had made to others. It was the moment I started writing my own rules for what success looks like and feels like. It was the moment I claimed my life back. And it f*cking hurt.

Immediately after that meeting I got into my car and I drove an hour home to my supportive husband and my bright-eyed baby girl. It was one of the happiest, most freeing, most powerful drives of my life. My phone was ringing off the hook. I ignored it and blasted Toto’s Africa and screamed at the top of my lungs for miles and miles. I cried rivers of tears and I laughed hysterically and I considered turning around and begging them to take me back at least one hundred times. But I didn’t turn around, I kept driving forward.

After I left my job, I slowly came back to life. I had many moments of panic, but no moments of regret. I started finding time to create again. I painted, I made music, I cooked really good food. I started writing again, and it felt like I was gasping for air and taking my first breath after being underwater for ten years. I now do things that fill me with joy, instead of using my free time alternating between various methods of numbing myself. I have substituted reading novels, listening to podcasts, and watching documentaries for a pretty outrageous (and not at all fulfilling) reality TV habit that I had developed. The time I spend on social media now is for sharing my joy and encouraging others, not comparing myself or spiraling down covetous rabbit-holes.

In the first two months after leaving, and without any purposeful lifestyle changes, I lost fifteen pounds that I had been holding onto since giving birth. I’ve lost more since then. I’m doing yoga almost every day, and going for really, really long walks and runs because I really like to be outside with my thoughts and my little city. I am finding joy in things that I have been walking by for too long.

Could I have done these things while in my previous job? Absolutely. And I am wholeheartedly convinced that it would have made a world of difference in my overall wellbeing, and probably in my job performance as well. But that wasn’t my path, and I needed to be on the other side of that experience to see it clearly. Depression, anxiety, self-doubt, toxic culture, the weight of the perceived expectations of others – these are all very difficult beasts to shake.

I feel sadness when I reflect upon the wonderful people that made up those extremely formative years of my life. I want to say to each of them, professional and personal relationships alike (and especially some of the guys I dated – yikes): I’m sorry. I shortchanged you by not being my best self. Some of you saw some really ugly parts of me, and none of you got the best that I have to offer. I am thankful for you, and I only hope that when our paths cross again someday, you have the chance to meet the person that I can be when I’m not too busy hating myself to be present, grateful, and focused on the good.

External pressures and motivations will always be there, for me and for everyone else, and that is a very good thing. Money, praise, and respect from others do all matter to me, and always will. But they no longer matter the most. The important shift that occurred for me wasn’t that these external factors evaporated overnight, but that my intrinsic motivation, that good “internal stuff” became so much stronger and more valuable to me than any of the outside noise.

I also realized that no one else cares as much about my life decisions as I do (duh), and certainly no one else has as much to gain or lose as I do by making them. As a result of this shift in mindset, I’ve stopped being so damn afraid to “fail” all the time. My intuition continues to grow stronger and has started informing my decisions more potently. I listen to my gut and trust myself more. I’ve started valuing my own opinion of myself over the opinions of others. Getting to know myself in this manner has been one of the most powerful parts of this journey for me.

If any of this story resonates with you, I beg you, don’t wait to change your circumstances. This doesn’t mean you have to quit your job today – although, if you are really in a bad place, you may seriously consider whether some time off may be exactly what you need to recalibrate. The day my daughter came screaming into that hospital room and into my life was the best thing that has ever happened to me for so many reasons, but PLEASE do not be like me. Do not wait for a major life event to wake you up – it might not come, and it certainly won’t happen soon enough.

Do not let complacency and an establishment-mindset rule your life until you crack. Each of us has something so meaningful and unique to contribute to the fabric of our communities. Each of us has the ability to let our intuition guide us toward discovering what truly sparks joy. This could look a million different ways: it might mean starting a business, becoming an author, finding a volunteer opportunity, getting involved in your church, picking up an old hobby. It’s not nonsense… IT’S YOUR LIFE. Literally, nothing matters more.

On this side of things, I do have clarity. I do genuinely feel like I am celebrating one year out of jail, but it was (admittedly), a jail of my own design and choosing. Today, I have chosen a different life. And I make choices every single day about what that is going to look like. Never again will I allow myself to become trapped in a circumstance that is toxic to my ability to be my best self. Never again will I allow self-doubt and fear to be the ruling factors in my life. I get to make these choices. I get to make them whenever and for whatever reasons I want. And this control that I now have over my day – and my destiny – is infinitely more satisfying than an A on a report card, a plaque on a wall, or a fat-ass commission check in my bank account.