Wednesday, August 22, 2012

Prelude to Escape


April 19, 2012

It is the night before I resign from my first career.  My future, however, holds bright new things:  great and noble learning opportunities.

Why, then, tonight, am I so frightened?  Why is my body trembling with the thought of saying those words tomorrow?  “It is with a heavy heart that I announce my resignation from this career.”

It is because I face a man who risked a lot to get me here, a man who put his neck out for me because he believed in my skill, and in my determination.  And tomorrow, I will tell him that he was wrong.

I will tell him that I am weak, that I have been scared and hurting, and that the smiling face he saw for eight months has been a lie.

Why, though?  Why am I scared?  Am I scared of his reaction?  Certainly.  Am I scared of the future?  Of course.  I think most of all, that I am scared to admit that I was weaker than his estimate of me.  I am scared to admit that, in this endeavor, I failed.  So many times, I have announced my successes, and boldly proclaimed that I could succeed however I wished.  But here, tonight, I sit naked in my bed with my computer in front of me, trembling.

I glance at the red square numbers on the table next to me.  10:38.  I count down the hours until I say those words:  “It is with a heavy heart…” Probably close to twelve hours.  Maybe less.  Two of those hours I will spend driving, waiting desperately for the sun to rise, my body crouched over the steering wheel, holding on to life as I drive toward this realization, the revelation to the world that I was weak.

I think also of my fiancé, and my friends who look forward to my return.  I think ahead four months and I can visualize the smile on my face as I sit with friends and make merry.  This smile has not crossed my lips in months except for rare exceptions to the status quo: vacation weekends, visits from my distant fiancé.  In a short time, this smile will be the norm, and the trembling and the crying and the anger will be my rare states of being.

I think ahead two weeks.  I am at the office, turning in a progress report on a task that will have to be completed after I’ve left.  I think of the looks I’ll receive from my coworkers.  I think of the rare smiles and congratulations I might greet with relief.  I think of the possibilities that my resignation might spark an exodus.  The council could be left in shambles, and how will I have contributed?  The catastrophe’s catalyst.

But if I think of myself, only myself, I can be free.  I will be free of the pain, and the fear, and the depression, and I will have a wealth of knowledge to bring with me as I travel forward.  I was weak here, but I might be stronger in the next arena.  And the next, and the next, and the next…

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