Who Will Run Through a Wall For You?

Find Your Fans and Your Confidence

Once I somewhat spontaneously told my parents that I was going to leave my job there was no turning back. But the next step freaked me out far more than giving up my paycheck — telling everyone else.

I know I’m a people pleaser. A Type 2 on the Enneagram. I want people to think I make good decisions. I care far too much that they think I’m smart.

So I worried that whenever I told someone I was leaving a stable job to rewrite a book that had no guarantee of ever earning me a cent they would look at me like I was crazy. Even worse, they would say it.

Ever since I was old enough to think pragmatically about my future I’d told myself I needed to get published first, then quit my job.

But I’d been in the workforce for about 13 years, and that narrative had gotten me two dead-end careers, a complex about wasting my life, and no closer to achieving my dream.

It was definitely due for some rewrites.

Testing the Waters

I worried most about telling my colleagues, since many of them would be directly impacted by my departure, adding another potential layer of disappointment. To work up the nerve, I decided to start with a trial conversation.

I hope you have a work-pal you can trust when you need to decompress about whatever is going on in your career. I was blessed to have such a colleague and friend. Every couple of months we’d grab lunch and discuss the challenges and rewards of being young professionals at our company.

Knowing I was facing this major change, I invited my coworker out to lunch at our usual haunt, a tasty little Mexican restaurant that we’d frequented many times both before and during the pandemic.

I kid you not, dear reader, there are parts of that lunch that felt like a sitcom.

We were greeted by one of those signs that are now on basically every door warning us that a business is short staffed, so please be patient. That was fine. We weren’t in a hurry. Our waitress was young and clearly new, but she took our usual order, which we’d made half a dozen times. While I nervously gathered my courage to drop a bombshell, my colleague launched into an elaborate story about some lifechanging opportunities potentially coming his way.

My brain was reeling, trying to make sense of what my friend was telling me, all the while trying to figure out what I was going to say about my own crossroads. And then the waitress came back and said she gave us the wrong menus, and we needed to reorder.

“I can’t get two enchiladas?” I sputtered, completely unable to focus on food in that moment.

“No,” she told me, even though we were in a Mexican restaurant where I always got two enchiladas. So I ordered one enchilada and a taco, which was apparently an acceptable combination, and let me friend get back to his story.

I admit, when the food finally came, I took one look at the plate that was half mystery vegetable and screeched, “Is that an eggplant? I don’t want to eat that.”

(I’m usually nice to waitstaff, I promise. There was a lot going on. Later I realized it was probably a stuffed pepper, and the confusion had to do with the lunch special numbers versus the dinner special numbers and the various menus floating around. I did leave a good tip.)

The poor girl was very confused. My colleague and I were very confused. I basically wanted her to bring me anything that was filled with meat.

We placed new orders that might have been the same as our original orders. My friend finished his story. I tried to say something appropriately supportive. And then I seriously contemplated backing out. It had been a bizarre day, we were more than halfway through our lunch hour, and I didn’t want to have this conversation anyway. I could put it off…

I remember looking down and noticing that my hands were literally shaking. I realized that I couldn’t hang on to this anxiety for another day, week, month, (indefinitely).

I’d learned something at my non-profit job that I try to live by. Anticipating a difficult conversation is almost always worse than having that conversation. I am wired to be conflict-avoidant, and it’s so counterproductive, because dealing with conflict swiftly instead of letting it fester into some unending passive-aggressive mess – or straight up aggressive mess – leads to far better outcomes and much less angst.

I took a really deep breath.

“So, I’m going to quit to finish rewriting my book.”

What’s the BEST that Can Happen?

For a moment my friend just stared at me. “Are you kidding?”

“Nope.” I then launched into a very green version of the elevator pitch I would soon be giving to several dozen people, about dreams and timing and catastrophic data failures.

I’d chosen to tell this particular person first because I figured he wouldn’t be unsupportive. His role was also relatively disconnected from mine, so my departure wouldn’t make his job harder.

I will never forget what he said to me.

“I want to run through a wall for you right now.”

He wasn’t just supportive. He was ecstatic that I was taking this risk to do what I loved.

And then he told me what he wished he could do with his own life.

Eventually our second plates of food came, and they weren’t exactly what we’d ordered either time, but it didn’t matter. I was filled up by his unbridled enthusiasm (also all the free tortilla chips). He believed I could do this. He was proud of me for taking this step. In that moment I felt like I could run through a wall myself.

I confess I was still crazy nervous to tell my boss. So anxious that my friend scoped out when my boss was in his office and told me to stop lurking until I’d given my notice. I went in with tissues and shaking hands. But I led the conversations with why I needed to leave. And completely contrary to all the worse-case scenarios I’d imagined, my boss was extremely, unequivocally supportive in a way that left me more confident than ever that not only could I finish my book, I could get it published.

After those first conversations it became so much easier. Most of my colleagues were still working from home, and some worked out of different offices, so I made a ton of phone calls over the course of two days because I wanted to tell people personally before they heard the rumors. With every show of support my fear of judgement decreased.

I was, admittedly, an emotional wreck. There was some mortifyingly teary video chats and lots of phone calls where I was grateful I could wipe at my eyes in private. Some of the emotion came from leaving people I really cared about and projects I wouldn’t have a chance to see through. When you take a risk, you often have to leave some things behind. But I also cried because everyone was so affirming I didn’t know how to absorb all their unexpectedly positive feedback.

Be an Inspiration to Those Around You

One of the most striking things about leaving my job was how many people responded by telling me about their road not traveled–the risk they didn’t take, the dream they never pursued, the job that would have sent their life in another direction. People got very honest and vulnerable after I shared my news. Not just one or two people. It happened nearly a dozen times. It was like my boldness shocked the truth out of them. And I was so honored that they opened up to me.

I worked in a pretty old school, male dominated industry. This was not some Millennial enclave where it was typical for people to leave to “pursue their passion.” Yet of everyone I talked to about my plans, only two people responded with healthy skepticism.

Honestly, healthy skepticism is totally warranted. Getting published is hard!

No one told me I was crazy. No one told me I was making a mistake. No one got angry that they’d have to replace me.

My biggest antagonist was my own anxiety, that terrible question we often use as an excuse to stay stagnant: “What’s the worst that can happen?”

Dearest reader, if you embrace your catalyst and commit to rewriting your life, I cannot promise it will be well received. I don’t know your friends, family, coworkers. But I can tell you that for me, the anticipation was so much worse than the reality.

I was surprised by the number of people carrying around their unachieved dreams, still ruminating on risks they did not take, haunted by their own version of Willy Loman. These people were excited to hear that I was chasing my dream, even as many conveyed a sense that it was too late for them to do the same.

It was these conversations that really encouraged me to start this blog. In addition to finishing my book and securing a publishing contract, one of my goals is to inspire others to live the life they want, because I know I’m not the only one who can manage this.

It isn’t too late. Not if there’s still breath in your body. Sure, some doors may be closed or even locked. But many barriers can be overcome if you choose to try. Even if your long abandoned dream isn’t feasible in its original form, that doesn’t mean you need to stay stuck where you are, drained and unfulfilled.

If you’re ready to take that next step, make that change, rewrite your life, then I encourage you to share that proudly. Lead with purpose. Inspire others around you to live boldly. And stop assuming everyone’s a critic before you’ve given them a chance to respond. (Some people may be critics, and that sucks, but don’t let it keep you down.)

And if you’re still worried, then start with your biggest supporter. Who is going to run through a wall for you? Think of a friend, a family member, or a colleague who is going to be on your side and let them cheer you on. Then find another. And another. There are going to be doubts and setbacks and bleak moments, so surround yourself with people who will build you up and store up all their encouragement. Don’t be afraid to lean on them when you need to. Heroes rarely work alone.

Maybe one day you can return the favor after you’ve inspired them.