Steps of Faith
The moment I handed in my two-week notice I felt a weight lift off of my shoulders. I had been anticipating this day for over a year. Every new workweek I told myself that next week would be the last, only for another month to go by without change.
But a week ago, I was finally brave enough to hand in my carefully typed letter that in a few simple words would change my life.
The first question everyone asks me is where am I going. They want to know which company am I giving up good benefits and good pay for. Who am I going to work for next. What position am I going to take. Because me leaving must mean I have another safety net. But I don’t. Truth is I have only a vague idea of where I’m going. I know it involves writing. I know it involves using the marketing degree that sacrifice and scholarships paid for. I know that it doesn’t involve working another unfulfilling job where Monday’s are dreaded and Fridays can’t come soon enough.
I’m scared, though. I don’t fear the risk as much as not knowing how I’m going to get to where I’m trying to go. I’m used to having a clear direction, and I prefer to have a plan mapped out. But for the first time in my life my plan isn’t about how I’m going to make money, it’s about how I’m going to get my life back.
I don’t regret the choices I’ve made or the path that I’ve chosen to take that led me to this point. I believe that every step played a significant role in my journey. Had I not gone this route, I may not be at the point where I have to humble myself and admit that I’m not in control of my life the way I thought I was.
I am tired. I am fed up with living a lie and telling myself that if I work hard for somebody else then I can make my own dreams come to fruition. I’m over living in fear of my past failures or even of the ones I’ll possibly make in the future. It’s not easy to give up everything you’ve worked for and start all over. Every item I possess that I don’t need in the next stage of my life is being sold or thrown in a grocery bag for Goodwill. It’s made me realize how much I was working for material possessions, for comfort, for the “American Dream.” How quickly I discarded those things when I realized that my freedom and sanity were of much greater value.
I’m thankful that I didn’t get caught up with buying a new car or a new house, things I really wanted but chose to hold off on. I know it would’ve made this decision harder. I’m thankful that I am strong enough to take this leap, for I know that come this time next week I will have nothing but my faith, my talent, and my work ethic to keep me going.
This time, I’m ready.