Jumping Off a Cliff and Into Grace

It all started with a tarot card reading by a teenage girl in a ridiculous costume. As she laid the colorful cards out in front of me and began to explain each one, you could say I was slightly skeptical – and highly amused. I don’t remember the names of the cards but as she started describing each one, with little input from me at all, my level of amusement went right out the window. She was nailing it.

One card told her that I was in a constant state of struggle with someone, and she looked judgingly at my fiancé. I laughed. You see it wasn’t him that I was struggling with; it was my client at work. It was my entire job. Then she tapped on a card that depicted people willingly jumping off a cliff and told me that I was probably going to need to jump off a cliff (metaphorically of course) if I wanted to be happy. Next she asked me, “Are you a writer?” Again, I laughed at the preposterous idea and said that I wasn’t a writer, not even close. She just blankly stared at me and said matter-of-factly, “Well you should be.” What a quack.

Fast forward a month or two and I find myself calling in sick on what I know is going to be a horrendous Monday morning. It wasn’t that I was faking it – I was sick. My stomach was in knots, I had a raging headache, and I felt like at any moment I was just going to curl up and fall into a coma (which at the time, admittedly, felt like a pretty good idea). But if we’re going to be honest here, I would say 97 percent of that was anxiety or stress and about 3 percent was some sort of virus. I was exhausted, mentally and physically. I literally could not face the day.

You see, I worked incredibly hard to climb the ranks in the industry I was in. I had put everything else in my life on a back burner so that I could become really, really good at what I did. And it worked. I was really good and I was extremely passionate about my job. That is, until life happened.

I found an amazing person who I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, and he brought with him the most precious gift: a child. My entire world changed, and suddenly I loved being home. Every second I spent away from them felt like an eternity. Every tee-ball game I missed, every school conference I wasn’t a part of, and every single moment of precious time I lost consumed me with guilt. But that’s life, right? Especially when you’re a working mom (or in my case, stepmom).

Unfortunately, the super-challenging job that I was so deeply passionate about turned into a cancerous spot on my life. I no longer had the energy or brain space to devote to a demanding profession that required me to sign over my personal life. I was bringing my stress home and, even though I went through the motions, I wasn’t being the partner and stepmom I wanted to be. Sometimes I felt like I was outside my body, watching myself drudge through dinner, playtime, bedtime, and love in general, and it made me sad. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to enjoy those things; I just couldn’t enjoy them. And as frustrations all around the table from my client to my coworkers mounted, instead of buckling down and sacrificing more like they wanted, I jumped off a cliff.

While being (sorta) fired is most people’s worst nightmare, for me it was like my free fall off a cliff landed me on one of those super expensive mattresses in a really fancy hotel. It was amazing.

When I returned to work after my anxiety flu, I promptly let my boss know that I was going to be making an exit in the future. I couldn’t do or be what the company needed me to be, and I was tired of feeling like a failure. The company, in turn, promptly let me go with a severance. While being (sorta) fired is most people’s worst nightmare, for me it was like my free fall off a cliff landed me on one of those super expensive mattresses in a really fancy hotel. It was amazing.

Over the next month or so, I channeled Martha Stewart. I made art, baked bread, planned menus, and ran my house like I had wanted to for so long. My stepson and I got tons of one-on-one time, and I watched him thrive. My fiancé noticed a distinct change: I was happy.

When I began to look for new jobs, I found my entire scope of what was important had changed. I didn’t want high-profile. I didn’t want demanding. I needed something that nurtured my creative ambitions and didn’t stand in the way of my family. And I was so very blessed to learn that with a little budgeting, I didn’t need to work at all. We could make it on one salary, so anything I made was a bonus. It opened up an entire world of possibility for me. But at the same time, it shut the door on my old industry – the one I was good at, the one I had cut my professional teeth in. I knew I couldn’t go back ,and I had to find something new.

And that’s when the last part of a teenager’s prophecy came true. I landed here at Chippewa Valley Family – where I write. I don’t cry in the shower before coming to work. I don’t go home crabby and spread negativity to those I love. This isn’t a fairy tale where I got everything I ever wanted. We still are figuring out our new routine at home because with this job, I work later than I did before. I still might miss some things, and I’m still going to feel guilty if I do. But it fulfills me. I like what I do. When I walk in the door at night I’m energized for time with my family. I no longer go through the motions; I get to live in the present.

So to every parent out there, I encourage you to take a good hard look at the cliffs around you. If you’re not being fulfilled, if you’re not enjoying your family like you wish you were, and if you’re not in love with your life, figure out how to jump. Maybe your jump won’t be as extreme as mine. Maybe it’ll be even more extreme and will require more forethought and planning. Maybe your free fall will be different than mine, and maybe you won’t land so softly. The point is, sometimes you need to make the leap. I’m living proof that it’s 100 percent worth it.