It is done.  Today, after much deliberation and serious thought, I gave my boss notice that I was resigning in two weeks.  Although I do not have a definitive plan for what I will do next, the fear of the unknown and the thrill of change are both exhilarating and alarming.  Only dishonesty can make me say I was not scared — both before giving notice and afterward.  It was not precisely a simple day of taking action and moving on.  No, it was more complicated than that.

First, my boss is in town from Atlanta.  I’ve never met the man before now, yet I’ve worked for him for 15 months.  The encounter already had me nervous.  You see, I respect my boss, and we share the ability to be honest with each other even when it rebuts the company line or would be considered unprofessional.  Yes, we have shared laughs at the expense of executives, the seemingly haphazard mess within our organization that has taken on a life of its own, what frustrations there are to be had in working and surviving, and he and his wife having their first child in April or May (children have their own timing, you know).  I find him to be an intelligent man, one with integrity, a capable manager and technical leader, and someone who has a very welcoming personality.  Even today, I expressed to him my pleasure in knowing he’d like one day to become a teacher at the college level, something I believe his personality and demeanor certainly would support with enthusiasm.  He is simply a good man who is a great boss.  You can see why I said I was already nervous about meeting him in person for the first time.

It was a situation made more complicated for he was in town to give me my review and to work on objectives for 2006 (along with a handful of minor activities).  Having given notice today, you can see why his plans lost their importance and became utterly moot.  The conscientiously accountable part of me took complete responsibility for transforming his trip into what amounts to wasted travel and time.  He understood this concern — although both he and his wife shared a certain “WTF!?” moment when he called her to tell her of my decision.

As I expected, he was genuinely supportive of my decision, expressing a certain jealousy even, one regarding solely the decision to act without a safety net and to think more about my innate desire to make something of my writing.  We talked for hours about such things as he shared his own life dream of teaching.  His expressions of fear and uncertainty echoed my own reflections of late.

I was overwhelmed with his understanding.  He made clear his respect of my decision.  Demonstrating tremendous comprehension of how I felt and why I know in my heart and mind that I am doing what is right, his envy of the risk itself was obvious, a topic which found its way to our lips several times.

What a relief to feel that anxiety wash away in understanding tinted with admiration.  We talked of the future of the company, of his plans and concerns, of the pending birth of his daughter and how that would undoubtedly change his life, and of some real business we’d stumbled upon hours later to which we would ultimately tend.

Second, I was compelled to ensure that my employees and surrogates were informed directly by me of my decision to leave the company.  On countless occasions, I have mentioned that those who work for me are like my own children.  They are my responsibility, I am their mentor and leader, we must share trust and honesty, and part of my job as their manager is to protect them from harm and ensure their success.  It would be unthinkable to me for them to hear of my impending departure via any medium other than my own voice.  I was fearful, of course, frightened that I would hurt them in some way, worried that random chaos might somehow ensue.

Leaving a team of dedicated professionals such as these would not be easy.  I have a responsibility to them.  Their success is important to me.  Our environment has not been the most welcoming, grateful, supportive, or comfortable for quite some time, as many of you have undoubtedly learned from my own ramblings here, and my parental and managerial impetus to provide for them abruptly ran aground on my decision to leave.  Was I betraying them in some way?  Would they be upset with me?

To ensure them the respect they deserve, I scheduled a conference call in the morning to announce my intention to resign.  They listened intently, silently shouted utterances of dismay, disbelief and distress punctuating my ad hoc declaration, and I felt their pain sounding ominously in my ears.  With care and attentiveness akin to that of a caring parent tending to a brood of offspring, I explained and offered them what little I could to assuage their concerns.  I tried to ensure their questions were answered.  I wanted them to know unreservedly the decision was necessary and my direction less uncharted and more strategically directed.

They questioned my intent.  I explained.  They asked about the future.  I made no promises.  They voiced concern.  I assured them change was not always bad.

My heart found its stride as they uplifted me with their support.  Surprised though they might be, none of them faulted me for doing what I felt to be the correct action in my own life.  A chorus of disappointment failed to drown out excitement regarding a seemingly drastic yet desirable course of action: take a risk.  How often have I advocated such things?  Life is to be lived.  Leave no regrets.  Only you can do what is in your own best interest.  These clichés, the very ones I desperately strive to make binding dictums in my own life, undoubtedly struck a chord within each of them, perhaps — and this may well be nothing more than self-aggrandizement — perhaps the very abruptness of this move interlaced with significant uncertainty represented to one or more of them that everyone should focus more on the living and less on the mechanics of survival.  This is true even when failure is as possible as success.

Life is not worth living if we do not risk what we have for what we want.  The motions of survival are insufficient unto this task, an empty echo of a voice long forgotten.  It is within each of us to get through life.  It is not so prolific for us to live fully.  Too many let opportunity slip between their fingers so that they might ensure the routine for another day.  This undoubtedly satisfies a hunger within our minds, the hunger to provide and to predict, yet I imagine, and this is certainly true for me, that a majority of humans remain discontented in their souls.  I again quote the motto for my life: “I do not intend to tiptoe through life only to arrive safely at death.”  The effect of living is always the same.  Why then do so many betray heartfelt desires simply to rest assured that the same routine will guide their tomorrows?

It is on this level that I understood their support.  It is the same connection I shared with my boss later in the afternoon.  Touching the existence of others will show you that it is a part of each of us wherein lies our deepest and most heartfelt desires, those upon which we often fail to act yet encompass the place we occupy in this universe.  Risk.  Regret.  They are polar opposites that too many contemplate only when it is too late to act.  We regret the risk we did not take.  We lament the loss of opportunity that can be blamed on no one except ourselves.

Always doing the right thing to keep the schedule on track is sheer depredation of the soul.  It robs us of the excitement of failure, the satisfaction of peril, and the fulfillment of doing what will make us happy as opposed to doing what will keep the train on time.  Providing for life is simply not enough; it seems absolutely essential to me that survival is only part of what makes us whole, that we must take chances if we are to feel that the trip is worthwhile.

I appreciated my employees at that moment.  Within each of them was the inkling that I was onto something.  It is the realization that watching someone leap from the plane for the first time is confirmation that tremendous happiness can be found in the unexpected.  We are here for this single lifetime.

The worry and concern welling up within me since the early hours of this morning wherein I found my compass and finalized my decision melted away.  I feel bad.  I wish there was more I could do for both my employees and my boss, yet I do not question my decision.  As Kahlil Gibran once said, “…life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.”  I cannot change history.  The future never arrives.  The only thing I can control is today: right now.  I will never have anyone to blame except myself for disappointment about what might have been yet was never attempted.  My life is mine to control.  I need only point the finger at myself to answer who or what stopped me from living.  We all arrive at the same end; what matters is how we got there.  What will your life say of you?  Did you take the risks no one thought you would, or did you get by without disrupting the journey too much?

And I will return to work tomorrow to do my job.  I have performance evaluations to complete.  I have objectives to set.  I have metrics to aggregate and executive reports to complete.  I have a management conference call in the morning.  There is much work to be done prior to March 24 when I shall spill out onto the world sans a hypnotic routine.

I do not know what I will do.  Some time off sounds good, n’est-ce pas?  That I will take, but how much is uncertain, and all of it will be punctuated with a focus on my writing and a return to normalcy, one that includes my friends and family to a greater degree than has been possible for some time.  I will go back to the gym.  I will consider the future.  I will make my plans and dream my dreams.  I will walk the shores of the lake and bathe in the wonder and spectacle of nature.  I will wrap myself in the company and love of The Kids.  I will worry about what is to come, and I will cry when things seem hopeless.  I will talk and laugh.  I will wonder about growing old.  I will live.