Letting go

It has been nearly four months since I quit my job.

Last night, I met a former coworker for a couple of beers. I caught up on some of the office news, the state of some big projects that were in mid-stream when I left, stuff like that. No major news on the surface, at least none that he had access to. Nothing really changes.

At one point I was trying to tell him this story. A couple of weeks before I quit, I was in a conference room with my manager and several of my peers. I remember the meeting because I got so angry over something my boss said that I began yelling, pounding the table, rising out of my chair to do so, my face bright red and my whole body shaking with rage. It was the day I knew once and for all that I had to leave, and soon. I didn’t get fired for it, miraculously, but you just can’t stay somewhere if that sort of outburst is even possible.

But here’s the thing: while I was telling him this last night, I couldn’t remember what I was so mad about. No idea. I had a vague recollection that it was about this one other coworker, but I wasn’t even sure about that. I remembered the anger, sure. But I couldn’t remember why.

blog comments powered by Disqus
  1. abundanceofcalm said: I love your hashtags in this. It makes it so clear.
  2. bananacasts said: This makes total sense to me. You were in an emotional state about your job that reduced your inhibitions. You knew you were out of there sooner or later. The outburst was a declaration of your displeasure with your job rather than the issue at hand.
  3. ashamedtosay said: Your decision to leave likely saved your life. I can see it saved the quality of your life. :)
  4. do-over said: I like that. A lot. A lot a lot.
  5. janetisserlis said: perfect. thank you for the ( re ) minder