Remember how I said I’m not big into epiphanies anymore? Yeah, that’s what I said. Guess what? I’m still a sucker for the rare epiphany or two. Yesterday, I had one.
Over the past year, work has slowly started to erode my family focus or even my own perception of having any free time. In fact, 90% of my thoughts have been about work, enough so that I literally feel paralyzed in my out-of-work life most of the time. In one sense, it’s pretty logical. Even though I’m part-time and remote, being an employed consultant is still a high-pressure gig. Rather than working for yourself, you work more to hit targets and as the organization changes, you quickly learn it’s all out of your control. For a long time, that devil’s bargain was okay. And then, it wasn’t.
That’s where the epiphany came in: I am ready for a change.
For the first time in over 30 years, I am ready to leave health care. For good. And in retrospect, I know I really did try and I truly believed I could make a small difference. The reality? Any good I did was like a footprint in the sand. The next wave washed it away.
Now, I know its time for me to write my next chapter.
The thing is, while I still have incredibly intense emotions about eventually leaving my current gig (and the subsequent feelings of failure), I am completely at peace with finding my new purpose in life. The way I see it, I’ve got 10 more years to work – albeit likely part-time – and there is still a chance for me to do what I’ve never allowed myself to dream of doing: explore myself. Let me explain.
I was that kid who graduated from college with more debt than she earned in a year. In fact, my debt was crippling enough that I had to live at home for the first five years out of school. And I made bold but demanding career moves. From my first entry-level reporting job which lasted three years to moving to a larger paper for another four years to finally moving into health care public relations. Five years at that gig and I went into banking – not a direct career path, I know. And then, back to health care where I stayed, becoming a CEO and then a consultant. For most of that time, I was single and had bills to pay. That meant that I had to be committed to working more than was expected to be successful and to remain employed. For a lot of my career, I’m incredibly proud. I was able to help establish one of our nation’s community health centers in our community with a group of people who were as smart and talented as you will ever find.
Part-time consulting was supposed to be my semi-retirement job. Working part-time and from home sounded ideal. Except, well, consulting is not really a part-time job and health care is like its own virus, spiraling out of control. In retrospect, I can now see that being a consultant was always likely a pathway of transition. I should have never considered it my final destination.
So, what happens next? First, I’m giving myself the “Gift of a Year”. As of yesterday, I know I want to make a change. I also know I want to have time to get back in shape, focus on my family and give this whole blog thing a real try. Finally, I want to define who “new me” is professionally. I know I’m more than a one-dimensional primary care operations expert or even a health care expert. But who else can I be? The next 364 days are meant for me to explore who I can be and to become that person.
Honestly, I know that this entire process will likely take a year with a number of fits and starts in between, particularly as I’m also still working. Right now, I’m still processing emotions. But by the time we hit the beach in Antigua this spring, I want to be at true peace with leaving an industry I once believed was my calling.
And that’s all I know for now. The rest I will figure out. You’re invited to share that path with me as I commit to writing one of the most honest, heartfelt blog about this journey to my soul. It will likely not be as pretty as I want it to be, but it will be genuine. In 364 days, let’s see where I am. As much as I look forward to that post, I am also committed to taking this journey as fast or as slow as I need to. So here goes… the gift of my year.
The Yuppie Homesteader 