On Leaving

I recently quit two big responsibilities in my professional life to focus on myself.

These decisions were difficult and in essence, life changing, and yet instinctively it was what I needed to do.

Since the onset of the pandemic in March 2020, many of us have been confronted with the inevitability of our mortality in a much more vivid and inescapable way. We have come to understand that nothing is promised and things can change in an instant.

I lost both of my parents by the time I was 13, so death, and the certainty of human demise was something I contemplated frequently. The tragedy the pandemic delivered was not a novelty for me, but instead a different topography of freeze frames I’d already pondered for so long.

I am fortunate to have a foundation of friends and family — including an incredible fiancé — who seem to love me unconditionally despite my flaws. I am loved because I am a disruptor, and because I demand real and meaningful social change.

And yet in leaving; in making the difficult decision to step away, I wasn’t being a disruptor; I wasn’t trying to make a statement; I was simply coming back to myself. I was reaching inward and holding that sweaty hand that was desperate to be touched. I was looking back at a child who just couldn’t wake her mother up and letting her know: “It’s okay honey, I got you — this is her destiny, you gotta let her go. We are going to leave this house and find the swings; there, your legs will punch the air and everything that hurts will simply fall into the grass.”

In leaving, I was embracing the liberation of dropping back from the limelight and existing in the shadows as a spectator. In leaving, I was understanding that there was a new path for me; I was stepping away from conditions that did not allow me to fully be me, in the full spectrum of what “Me” is.

In leaving, I was allowing the transformation to happen. I was choosing joy, sustenance and of course, uncertainty.

The people I cherish have reached out; checked in; sent text messages, complete with my favorite heart emojis and prayer hands. They’ve called and left voicemails; they’ve listened to my awkward explanations and confused ramblings — they’ve understood that at this moment, this is what I need.

For many child-adults like me; those who had to grow up fast that is, the pandemic has awakened the dormant memories of loneliness, isolation and the uncertainty of a future without their person(s). The side of the bed that was once occupied, empty; the shoe rack, now sparse. The fridge, stocked a little less.

The pandemic has forced us to grieve suddenly and painfully. We have cried ourselves to sleep and awoken still crying. We have closed the curtains, slammed the doors shut, and sunken deeper into the memory foam of grief.

Some of us have grieved more in the past two years than we have in our entire lifetimes.

And yet the pandemic has created a new zest for life — a new appreciation for nature, long walks and the people we love. It has established networks — a reliance on WhatApp chats, Zooms and shakey Google Meets. We’ve rediscovered entertainment — podcasts, Netflix shows, music, film, and authentic conversation. Some of us have taken up new sports, cooking or even learned a new language. We’ve reconnected and rebuilt old friendships.

We’ve found our way back home.

The pandemic has demanded that we pivot, reevaluate and seek transformation. It has forced us to question, what do we really want out of our lives? Who do we really want around us?

Conditions are now ripe for refuting inequity, racism and oppression; it has induced Black people to stand up and exit, for good. People who suffered in silence are now saying fuck this shit, I will not be invisible, dehumanized or forgotten. I deserve more and I will demand more. I will not pretend that racism isn’t a harm; that I have not been harmed or that I cannot be harmed. It has galvanized a new kind of bravery that I am deeply inspired by. It has forced people to question their privilege; their active involvement in oppression and exploitation. It has pushed organizations to reflect and modify how they’ve always done things. These changes are important. And despite the pain, some of us never want to go back to the pre-pandemic era. We can only look forward.

And in the same vein, ambition has been quelled by a realization that health and nourishment are paramount in all facets of life. How can ambition serve me if at this moment I am unhappy and unhealthy? What is ambition without time with my person? Or a second to just be?

Of course, not everyone can simply leave. Bills and responsibilities means that walking away isn’t a viable immediate option for everyone. Leaving is scary too.

Indeed, to have options is an indication of power. And yet, exercising this power still needs to be strategic and analyzed. Leaving, if not planned, can be problematic and stressful.

In being able to leave, in being able to step away, I am clear that I am fortunate. In having the time to make the decision, I am grateful.

For me, leaving is now an opportunity, a chance to walk towards the horizon, while occasionally looking back at all I have accomplished.