a little background

So, what is this blog? And how did I end up here, writing in my bathrobe, when just last week I was presenting to clients?

Let me give you a little background…

For almost two years, I worked as a writer/creative strategist at a successful advertising agency in downtown Atlanta.

18 months brought: 2 raises. 28 staff birthday parties. And 50,000 SkyMiles. The benefits of a “real” job (good money, health insurance, a 401K) and the perks of a “fun” job (Taco Tuesdays, casual dress, leisurely lunches).

Sounds great, right?

Maybe from the outside looking in.

But for every office luau or bagel brunch, for every dozen donuts or costume party, there were intense downsides: personal confrontations and public humiliation. Snide comments and whispered rumors. Ruined projects and closed-door meetings.

And that doesn’t even scratch the surface.

I’d leave the office with stress-induced migraines and nausea. I’d complain about work to anyone willing to listen. Just last week, I found myself fleeing the office in the middle of the day and walking around the nearby park, in the rain, sobbing.

A coworker once likened our office environment to an “abusive relationship,” - when things were good, they were really good. You'd feel like you were in the right place, doing the right thing, and you forgot ever feeling any other way.

But when they’re bad, they’re walking-in-the-rain-crying bad.

But then, like any manipulative partner is wise enough to do, a boss will coddle you. Your talent is complimented, your ego stroked, your work praised, and you start to wonder if you imagined the whole painful incident. If it was really all that bad.

So the cycle continues.

I was stuck in the cycle, big time. There were warning signs from the start: insulting comments made regarding my appearance (being called a “sex kitten” for the way I smiled in my company headshot, yet being likened to a “homeless person” when once not wearing makeup to the office); contradictory commands regarding behavior and communication (being told to vocalize my opinion, then being publicly reamed out for doing so); the crossing of personal and professional boundaries (being “asked" by my boss to lend my own car to a non-company-affiliated stranger for her driving lessons, or to do other non-work-related favors for her friends); all culminating in what felt like a reality TV, “Big Brother” vibe, where secret alliances were made, backs were stabbed, and lies were told. But no one was winning a million dollars.

The environment was toxic. And I told myself - for months - that I had to get out.

Some people didn’t get it. “No job is perfect, you’ll be ok!” “It’s work, you’re not supposed to like it!”

But for me, it just wasn’t working that way. It wasn’t something I could just “get over.” I was becoming a shell of my former bubbly, positive self. I was bitter, defensive, and downright sad - even if I did a good job of hiding it for a while. I’d find myself in morning traffic thinking, “Maybe if I get in a small accident, I won’t have to go to work,” or while crossing the street, “If I let this oncoming car hit me just enough to break a few bones, I can miss a week or two.”

Ok, wishing to get in an accident? That’s not healthy. That’s messed up.

Time to get out.

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But there were so many excuses I could make. And excuses. And more excuses.

As I began to wonder if I would ever have to courage to get out, to move on, a few things happened:

1. My parents, boyfriend, and therapist all agreed I had to get out.

2. I calculated and realized I had saved enough money to survive for a little while without a paycheck.

3. And I read “Big Magic” by Elizabeth Gilbert.

First - everyone could see I was miserable. My parents, who live 400 miles away, knew I was struggling. My boyfriend witnessed firsthand the negative toll the job was taking on me. My therapist even said it was her professional medical advice to cut ties as soon as possible. These weren't the people that didn't get it. They got it, understood it, and supported it.

But money - what to do about money? I have rent to pay. And need to eat. But after some calculating, I discovered I’d saved enough money to take a little break if I didn't leap directly from this job to another. Common advice is to never leave a current job without having another lined up. So, for a while I tried to stick it out at the agency while applying to other places. But I simply couldn’t put my best foot forward in the job hunt. I wasn’t giving it my all. I didn't have the time, energy, or even the spirit to showcase my most desirable, hire-able self. So, I decided, it’s worth it to distance myself from this place, while searching for the next. I didn't want to be so desperate to leave my current job that I would run to the first opportunity that presented itself - right or not.

As all of my frustrations began to reach their tipping point, the final sign was written in the stars. Well, in a book. A friend suggested I read “Big Magic” by Elizabeth Gilbert. So I did. In two days. It confirmed everything I had been feeling and gave me the kick in the pants I so desperately needed. Gilbert talks all about fulfilling our promise as creative beings. Does she suggest quitting your day job in order to pursue full time creative living? Well, no. (In fact, she explicitly says not to do this…) But, given the chance to sit down over a coffee and discuss my situation, I think she’d back me up on this one.

So, I knew I was ready to move on. Now what?