There is not quite such a feeling as this. To have been stressed out, filled with fear and anxiety and dread. And then, to suddenly decide to walk away from it all. Burn that fucking bridge to the ground.

I remember one night, so many years ago, when I worked the graveyard shift at the Juno Beach Denny’s as a second job. There was this new server Randy and things just weren’t working out for him.

I will never forget standing at my table, taking an order and looking up from my pad to see Randy standing in the front hall of the restaurant peeling off his green-striped polyester uniform shirt yelling “I QUIT!” He threw it on the floor and stormed right out the front door. I remember thinking, damn, that guy knows how to make a statement.

Today, I can truly relate. The relief I feel…I can’t describe it. The storm that was whipping around inside has given way to calm. Now, for the damage assessment. The cleanup effort.

How to start again.

This is what happens when you never get around to deciding what you want to be when you grow up. You grow up anyway.

It’s not like I’ve never quit jobs before. I have. And in my own interesting and somewhat impactful ways. It’s always been for the best. No regrets.

Today I wrapped up an important project–one that has taken me days to prepare, sent it off to the important parties, scheduled a resignation email for a half hour after I left for lunch, with my time sheet attached, then shut down my computer, leaving my ID on my desk. Done.

I don’t know where I’m headed, but I know I can’t turn back.

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