Before I graduated from college, I was offered the most stable job: working for the U.S. government. Lucky, right? All I had to do was start working, not do anything crazy, and I had a retirement set for me.
Actually, this was the beginning of my second stable career. My first stable career was in the U.S. military. If I wanted, I could have ridden that train for 20-30 years. But, I left the military after six years.
I wanted more.
I took the job working for the government because it was the only job offered to me upon graduation. People were always impressed when I told them where I worked and they always told me how "lucky" I was to land the job. I don't know that it was luck rather than a well-crafted resume, but nonetheless, I nodded along.
Within a few months, I was bored out of my mind. I was a secretary. My boss was great and didn't need a lot of hand-holding (whew) so I had a ton of free time to play online and to work on the blog I had just stared.
While this certainly wasn't my "dream job," I had job security and a benefit package. I used every second of my non-government time to learn about blogging and eventually turned it into a small business. (Don't worry; the Ethics Department knew about my life outside of my job, I was safe there too.) I was listening to tons of podcasts, used vacation days to attend conferences, and I worked over my lunch break. I could have continued down this safe road, but I was ready to break out on my own. In theory, I should have been content, but of course, I wasn't. I wasn't satisfied spending the majority of my day doing something I didn't care about. I hated knowing that my business was being treated like a stereotypical step-child.
I wanted more.
But, I didn't know what "more" looked like.
Then, two things happened. First, a woman in my office, with whom I shared a job title, got a certificate and lapel pin to celebrate her 40th year of public service.
FORTIETH!
She worked for the government, doing the same job, for forty years.
I was sick to my stomach.
This was going to be my default future. In 38 more years, I would be getting that same certificate.
Then, the second thing happened. I was volun-told in work another "more prestigious" office for a week. I had an office-mate but I still didn't know the expectations of the office. The only instruction I was given was to answer the phone before it went to voicemail.
Seemed easy enough.
I was playing online while my new office-mate was at lunch and had everything under control. Then, I realized I had to poop.
But, I felt like I couldn't leave. What if someone "important" walked in and had a question. What if someone called? Was the office allowed to be empty? I felt paralyzed. I just sat there thinking of all of these awful things that could happen if I wasn't there to answer the phone. (Spoiler alert: nothing happens. They call back. Or leave a message. Or hang up.)
I finally snapped into reality. I went to the bathroom and came back to the office and set an end date. I gave myself about six months to leave my job. I had a few things to take care of: I needed to save more money, and I needed a solid exit strategy. Then, I was getting the heck out of there.
I wasn't just going to be any 'ole entrepreneur though. I was going to take my blog on the road. I was going to become a digital nomad, traveling the world and working from my laptop.
From that day, my leave date had been set in stone.
November 16, 2015.
And that was it. I had had it with my job. I gave myself the time to research where I wanted to go and to figure out the money situation. I told everyone I knew (including work!) that I was doing this. I wasn't going to hide. I wasn't going to back down from this commitment I made to myself. I researched. I asked questions. I joined tons of Facebook groups.
I also relied on my tribe -- the people who actually get me and want me to play big -- to be my support system. I became fierce about my boundaries and made the time to work on my business in every spare moment I had. I started referring to myself as an "entrepreneur" or "coach" instead of a secretary.
And now, here I am, actually doing it. I quit my job when I said I would, and I moved to SE Asia. I sold everything except for what fits into two pieces of luggage. I'm just going to start in SE Asia and seeing what life has to offer me.
I don't know what is going to happen. I don't know how long I can maintain this lifestyle. But I do know that I won't be working there for 40 years.
I know that sometimes you have to keep the 9-5 to pay the bills. I did it for a year longer than I wanted to. I also know that you can create the time if this is something that is really important to you.
Just make sure that you don't wake up in 40 years living someone else's life.
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Actually, this was the beginning of my second stable career. My first stable career was in the U.S. military. If I wanted, I could have ridden that train for 20-30 years. But, I left the military after six years.
I wanted more.
I took the job working for the government because it was the only job offered to me upon graduation. People were always impressed when I told them where I worked and they always told me how "lucky" I was to land the job. I don't know that it was luck rather than a well-crafted resume, but nonetheless, I nodded along.
Within a few months, I was bored out of my mind. I was a secretary. My boss was great and didn't need a lot of hand-holding (whew) so I had a ton of free time to play online and to work on the blog I had just stared.
While this certainly wasn't my "dream job," I had job security and a benefit package. I used every second of my non-government time to learn about blogging and eventually turned it into a small business. (Don't worry; the Ethics Department knew about my life outside of my job, I was safe there too.) I was listening to tons of podcasts, used vacation days to attend conferences, and I worked over my lunch break. I could have continued down this safe road, but I was ready to break out on my own. In theory, I should have been content, but of course, I wasn't. I wasn't satisfied spending the majority of my day doing something I didn't care about. I hated knowing that my business was being treated like a stereotypical step-child.
I wanted more.
But, I didn't know what "more" looked like.
Then, two things happened. First, a woman in my office, with whom I shared a job title, got a certificate and lapel pin to celebrate her 40th year of public service.
FORTIETH!
She worked for the government, doing the same job, for forty years.
I was sick to my stomach.
This was going to be my default future. In 38 more years, I would be getting that same certificate.
Then, the second thing happened. I was volun-told in work another "more prestigious" office for a week. I had an office-mate but I still didn't know the expectations of the office. The only instruction I was given was to answer the phone before it went to voicemail.
Seemed easy enough.
I was playing online while my new office-mate was at lunch and had everything under control. Then, I realized I had to poop.
But, I felt like I couldn't leave. What if someone "important" walked in and had a question. What if someone called? Was the office allowed to be empty? I felt paralyzed. I just sat there thinking of all of these awful things that could happen if I wasn't there to answer the phone. (Spoiler alert: nothing happens. They call back. Or leave a message. Or hang up.)
I finally snapped into reality. I went to the bathroom and came back to the office and set an end date. I gave myself about six months to leave my job. I had a few things to take care of: I needed to save more money, and I needed a solid exit strategy. Then, I was getting the heck out of there.
I wasn't just going to be any 'ole entrepreneur though. I was going to take my blog on the road. I was going to become a digital nomad, traveling the world and working from my laptop.
From that day, my leave date had been set in stone.
November 16, 2015.
And that was it. I had had it with my job. I gave myself the time to research where I wanted to go and to figure out the money situation. I told everyone I knew (including work!) that I was doing this. I wasn't going to hide. I wasn't going to back down from this commitment I made to myself. I researched. I asked questions. I joined tons of Facebook groups.
I also relied on my tribe -- the people who actually get me and want me to play big -- to be my support system. I became fierce about my boundaries and made the time to work on my business in every spare moment I had. I started referring to myself as an "entrepreneur" or "coach" instead of a secretary.
And now, here I am, actually doing it. I quit my job when I said I would, and I moved to SE Asia. I sold everything except for what fits into two pieces of luggage. I'm just going to start in SE Asia and seeing what life has to offer me.
I don't know what is going to happen. I don't know how long I can maintain this lifestyle. But I do know that I won't be working there for 40 years.
I know that sometimes you have to keep the 9-5 to pay the bills. I did it for a year longer than I wanted to. I also know that you can create the time if this is something that is really important to you.
Just make sure that you don't wake up in 40 years living someone else's life.
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