So, one of the slight anomalies about my new life is that I still have this very small, thin tether to my old life. In a bit of a safety net move, I rescinded my full resignation in favor of a partial, no-obligation employment status. I work when I want for a negotiated fee. I thought that was going to go swimmingly and I could have bumped along like that forever, until… well, I have a tax and 401k hiccup that simply cannot be avoided. Short answer? I’m outta there.
At the same time, I happened across an internet forum where one person asserted that women end up getting “chased out” of the business world with all of the negative pressure and eventually return to domestic safety. The implication here? All women can’t take the heat. I fundamentally disagree with that. There are plenty of incredible businesswomen I know – and more power to them – who spend their lifetimes pursuing career without hesitation or regret.
The implication for me, however, is real. My decision to “quit quit”, as I call it, came because there was just one more unnecessary complication related to engaging with my old life. But what it really all boils down to? When I have to pay any sort of attention to my old life, I revert to being stressed out, irritated and demotivated. The old “it’s not you, it’s me” runs true: it’s me. My old firm has been fabulous, to be honest.
In truth, I can’t handle the duality. As great as the old firm is, whenever my mind goes back there, I think about all of the things I was trying to escape: the loss of autonomy, the lack of personal freedom of my day-to-day existence. Then, I do want to bolt – as quickly as I can – back to my new life. Candidly, I love my new life. And while this choice requires me to be bold and give up my safety net, it’s also time. At seven weeks, I’m up to replacing 95% of my former income.
But, I do want to explore more the idea of returning to domestic bliss. After all, that’s what I am doing. That’s what everything – including this blog – is about. I pushed the so-called “easy” button. While my life certainly isn’t waking up to fresh cut roses and watching the afternoon soap operas while eating bon bons, it is so much more calm. Of everything I was looking for, calm, peace, tranquility and serenity – call it what you will – was paramount. So yes, at the first real opportunity to escape, I did what the writer accused others of doing: I ran away from the business world.
Yet, I’m not sure I’ve ever fully explored why this is so fulfilling for me. I’ve talked about the zen of my clothesline and how I love to preserve vegetables from the garden or pick berries, but why is that so appealing? In a true bare-your-soul moment, I want to share why.
First, those activities are quiet. When I am hanging clothes on the line, it’s usually just me, the line, some damp clothes and clothes pins. My thoughts can wander free. I’m highly reactionary and if things are calm around me, I tend to be more calm. I liken myself to water: I tend to take the shape of whatever vessel I’m in emotionally. Charged atmosphere? I’ll be charged, too. Calm and quiet and I’ll get close to matching it. So, as someone who has learned how hard it is to be on high alert all of the time, dialing it back is hugely confirmatory.
Second, it’s easy satisfaction. It’s kind of like painting the walls or even folding clothes or making dinner. Do those tasks and you get the instant satisfaction that things look better. Even better? When someone compliments your marinara, your strawberry jam, your Harvard beets or – my piece de resistance – my dill pickles, there is validation. Someone else likes it so my effort was worthwhile. In business, you can toil away for months and see no results or failed results. It gets defeating over time, particularly when you focus on doing turnarounds.
Third, for me, it honors the lifestyle I watched my mother and to some degree my grandmother live (I don’t remember a lot about her). I learned those values at my mom’s knee. She hung out clothes, so my sister and I do as well. She “put up” food for the winter, so we do. She took immense pride in homemaking, decorating, cooking and cleaning and my sisters and I also do. We learned to pick wild blackberries from her and when we do it each August, the conversation always turns to mom. It’s more than just honoring traditions or traditional roles, it’s honoring her and who she was. I truly like to think she smiles from heaven (and shakes her head sometimes) but that she knows I’m honoring her.
Fourth, it slows our collective lives down. My husband works quite a bit and if I were also chasing the corporate schedule, there wouldn’t be a lot leftover for the mundane tasks of life. For several years, he did that for me and for a couple of years, we tried various scenarios of both of us working high-pressured jobs and it didn’t really work. By one of us having capacity to take care of the little things, both of us can live more easily. It just works. We don’t forget birthdays anymore, the house gets vacuumed a little more regularly and the lawn often doesn’t make the house look abandoned.
Finally, it allows me to be creative. That’s often an overlooked aspect of anyone leaving the workforce. But other than being really good at financial and operational turnaround strategies, I like to think I’m a good writer, a terrible painter, an avid book reader, a moderately-skilled hiker, an awesome furniture restorer and a fairly decent decorator. These are all pieces of me that gets overshadowed when my intense personality is focused on work. Much like I think all people look forward to retirement and exploring new opportunities, I feel the same way about stepping back into domestic bliss. There are parts of me that now get a chance to shine and I find that hugely fulfilling.
The past two days have been a series of revelations for me. At first, I was stressed by the changes that made me go back to what I now associate as a stressful place and then I was slightly offended that as an ex-CEO I was being branded as soft. But now? I am actually quite proud of who I am and how self-honest I can be. These two events forced me to think about “my why,” so to speak and that was a very important exercise for me.
And thank you. If you read this far, thank you for allowing me to be vulnerable and share my why.
The Yuppie Homesteader 