Why I Left
On leaving, landing, and the in-between.
I worked for forty years. I’m definitely not complaining. Just stating the facts. I showed up. I was good at it. I worked my way up. I was miserable.
Not dramatically. Not all at once. Just the slow, grinding kind of miserable that gets normalized because you’ve been doing it long enough that you can’t imagine doing anything else.
I know what it feels like to be paralyzed at the edge of a big step. To worry about being aged out. To watch things change again and wonder if you can keep up. To lie awake. To feel your heart race for no reason that anyone around you can see. More blood pressure medicine (keeping it real here). More sleepless nights. A feeling, quiet but persistent, that something inside you is dying.
I was pre-jump for years. Standing at the edge, looking down, stepping back. Standing at the edge again.
And then I jumped.
There was truly no not doing it. I left the job. I took the step. And I landed — not at the bottom, not at some shiny destination — I landed on the Mezzanine.
That in-between floor. Not the ground level of the old life, not the top floor of whatever comes next. The landing where you get to look around. Where the noise fades just enough that you can hear yourself think.
I’m building The Mezzanine for women who did the thing, kept the thing going, and are now standing in a doorway wondering what’s actually theirs. Women who have been proving something for so long they’ve forgotten they were allowed to stop. Women who are pre-jump right now — scared, stuck, and more capable than they know.
That last part matters most to me. You have so much more power than you can imagine. You can make a change. You can figure out the logistics. I know because I was you, right there at the edge, and I took the step.
I write because I’ve been there. I write so you know you’re not alone there. And I write because the Mezzanine — this strange, quiet, in-between place — turned out to be exactly where I needed to land.
🌻 Tamara
About the Author:
Hi, I'm Tamara. I spent forty years in a career, and then I jumped. I live on the Central Coast of California, in Morro Bay, where the ocean sets the rhythm of my days. I write about the shift, the slow living on the other side of it, and the quiet work of figuring out what's actually yours. If you're in the in-between too — I'm glad you're here.
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The Mezzanine is such a perfect way to name that space. Not the old life, not the new one yet — just the floor where you finally get quiet enough to hear yourself again. Forty years of showing up and being good at it, and still finding the courage to jump. That's not a small thing!!
Not sure I belong in the “just left a career” demographic, as I’ve been disabled for 26 years. But I do feel I’m in an in between space: breaking out of the mold society set of what “disabled” meant, and coming into my own creativity and authenticity. I’d like to stay and listen to what you have to say.