Some doors open quietly. Others slam.
But not every door is one you’re meant to stay behind.
This spring, I walked through two.
The Door I Outgrew
One, I had already outgrown — gently, gradually.
By January, I realized that my work at VentureLab no longer challenged me. I’d done what I could. I questioned whether I had stayed long enough, but then remembered that the only thing I’ve ever regretted was staying too long.
So I made a clear, considered decision to seek something new.
And I found it. Quickly.
The Job I Left in Three Days — and Why That Was the Right Call
But the second door — the new role — turned out to be the wrong room entirely.
Within three days, my nervous system was screaming. Not metaphorically — literally. I cried on my first day. And again on my last.
The cold, inhuman corporate energy — formal where it should have been informal, informally chaotic where structure should have existed — it was all misaligned. I felt it in my body in a way I hadn’t since the worst moments of past jobs I’d worked hard to outgrow.
Only this time, I didn’t override it.
I didn’t rationalize.
I didn’t wait for more “proof.”
I listened. And I left.
It was, as I shared on LinkedIn, a bait and switch. What was promised didn’t match what I walked into — foundational systems missing, dynamics off-kilter, and expectations were scattered.
So I made the rare — but right — decision to step away. Quickly. Cleanly. With my integrity intact.
Three days in. No drama. No burnout. Just a clear, clean exit that didn’t waste their time nor mine.
Sometimes that’s the bravest thing you can do: recognize that a door was only ever meant to get you out of the last room — not to be your next destination.
Listening to My Nervous System: Not All Discomfort Is a Test to Pass
I’ve written before about how I used to carry a false belief that everything could be fixed with better communication. That if someone didn’t understand me — it was my fault. (You can read that story here: How ChatGPT Helped Me Break a 40-Year-Old False Belief About Communication.)
Letting go of that belief created space to choose something else.
Something better.
I started listening not just to what I thought, but what I felt — in my gut, my breath, my throat.
The places where my voice used to catch. Where my stutter and apraxic flip-flopping of words used to live.
When I left that second job after three days, it wasn’t because I couldn’t handle it. It was because I could.
I had enough clarity to see that staying would cost me something I’d worked too hard to regain: Peace. Presence. Self-trust.
So I chose myself.
This Is My Diastole: The Sacred Pause Between Heartbeats
Right now, I’m in the middle of a diastole — the pause between heartbeats.
Not a break.
A gathering.
A softening.
A reset.
Moving to West Lafayette: A Realignment in Every Sense
I’m completing our move to West Lafayette, Indiana — something we began slowly last year. (My summer wardrobe and half of my books are already there.) Now, the timing feels right. I’m turning my St. Louis duplex into the fully rented investment property I always intended it to be.
I’ll be exploring new restaurants, grounding myself among different trees than my favorite cypresses at Tower Grove Park and the Missouri Botanical Garden. I’ll be tending to my baby monkey puzzle seedlings — all ten of them, plus three two-year-old treelings. I’ll be watching spring turn into summer in a new city.
I’m letting the old stories compost.
And I’m open — carefully, selectively — to what’s next.
What I’m Open To: Freelance Work, Remote Roles, and the Next Chapter
Right now, that means:
- Social media strategy and storytelling for values-aligned brands
- Selectively open to fully remote roles aligned with this next chapter
- Thoughtful freelance collaborations (but not large web design projects… not yet)
- Sharing and submitting my short story Between Pulse and Silence — set in the optimistic late ’90s and the shadow of the 2020 COVID pandemic — exploring themes of death, transition, and the quiet moments between identity shifts
This is My Real New Year
It’s strange, and quite honestly, at times, terrifying, to be in this space. But it’s also sacred.
I’m not rushing to fill the silence.
I’m letting it speak.
If you’re in a pause right now — between jobs, between cities, between selves — I see you.
You don’t have to have it all figured out.
Sometimes the most powerful thing you can do is trust that your body knows before your brain does.
And that not staying is just as brave as pushing through.
This is my April reset.
This is my real New Year.
And this time, I’m walking forward with all of me intact.
P.S. I’m currently building a coaching framework based on the structured AI debriefing process I’ve used to navigate these transitions. If you’re interested in hearing more — or in working together — feel free to reach out.
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