I was a reluctant student driver. I didn’t want to learn and
driving scared me. There’s a lot to keep track of and I can still hear my mom
telling me that it’s an awesome responsibility to operate a car. I believed her
wholeheartedly (she was right) and I was completely overwhelmed. I was teased
relentlessly by my family for my slow pace at stopping, starting and everything
in between in the car.
Eventually I became comfortable enough with the wheel, and
wanted to be able to drive to my job, that I prepared to get my license. As was typical of my 16-year-old self, I
passed the written test with flying colors. The examiner then took me out for
the driving test and things were going well. We were returning to the DMV on a
long straight stretch of a four-lane divided road and he asked me to make a right
turn at the next street. My immediate reaction was that it didn’t feel like
enough time to properly change lanes, signal and make the turn. I needed more
time. Everything suddenly slowed to single frame motion and I slowly –
painstakingly slowly – signaled and then sort of drifted into the right hand
lane and fluidly drifted right into the turn. I knew that I hadn’t fully
changed lanes but I had signaled and I hoped against hope that it would be
alright.
It wasn’t. When we returned to the DMV he told me that I had
done well except for where I made a right turn from the left lane. I wanted to
argue. I wanted to tell him that he hadn’t given me enough notice to make the
lane change properly. I wanted to say that I just needed more time to plan, but
I didn’t. Instead, I went back the next day and took the test the second time
to get my license. How embarrassing to have failed my driving test for making a
right turn out of the left lane. I
wouldn’t let that happen again.
I’ve made many actual
unsignaled turns in my car since then, but I haven’t made many figurative ones.
I’ve played it pretty safe in most ways. I’ve betrayed my generation’s
reputation by working in the field in which I earned a degree, staying in the
town in which I grew up to raise my own family and generally living in a way
that’s not above my family’s means. I’ve had two jobs in 17 years and a nasty
habit of driving cars until they fall apart rather than go out of fashion. I’m
a real wild woman; the life of a party.
Tomorrow, however, I’m making a right turn from the left
lane. Tomorrow is my last day at my job of 11 years. Tomorrow I’m leaping into
the world of part-time employment in a position that’s not likely to keep me
awake at night. Tomorrow I’m walking away – at least temporarily – from a
“career.” On Monday I’m starting a “job.” It doesn’t pay very well and I’m not
entirely sure what I’ll be doing there. It feels reckless, lazy, terrifying,
irresponsible and like a complete relief.
I didn’t get to this decision in a way that I would
recommend to anyone. I got here like I usually do - through tons of unproductive agonizing, lots
of frustration, loads of guilt and a little counseling. (The counseling was
actually a new touch.) I got here kind of like I changed lanes so many years
ago. The signal’s been on but it’s been a slow-motion drift across the road.
I don’t know where this turn leads. It may lead to a
roundabout that brings me right back where I started. It may lead to a dead
end. (Please hope it doesn’t lead to a dead end.) With any luck it may lead to
a whole new set of streets where the map is easy to read. I know for sure that
it feels bittersweet. I’ve had an amazingly good gig in most ways and there are
people lining up to take the job I’m leaving. I’ve been “in the know” and I’ve
worn big girl clothes and people (some of them) have respected what I do. I
know without doubt that I’ll miss much of that. And yet, I know I probably
should have done this five years ago and it’s high time to go.
It’s time to actually sleep at 3 a.m. and it’s time to put
the phone down and be in the moment with my kids. It’s time to be home when the
boys have days off from school and it’s time to go back to cleaning my own
toilets. It’s past time for my kids to have some downtime in their summers and
some margin in their days. It’s also time for me to stop feeling guilty about
what I’m not doing at work or what I’m not doing at home and just embrace
whatever I can do right. Guilt’s a crappy emotion.
Tomorrow I’m going to finish cleaning out my desk and hand
over my office keys. A part of me feels like that’s waving the proverbial white
flag. It’s like I’m surrendering to the fact that I can’t effectively have it
all; like I’m still the sixteen-year-old who is overwhelmed by the responsibility
of being on the road and just drifts out of panic and not knowing what else to
do.
I also think that
perhaps it’s actually the first time in a lot of years that I’ve made a
conscious decision to do something that even requires a turn signal. Maybe it’s
not a white flag but a green flag, marking the start of an open lap. Whatever
it is, it’s happening and I feel strangely at peace about it. In the 23 years
since I had to retake my driving test I’ve learned that more often than not you
don’t get a second chance and you better seize it when you can. I haven’t done
a good job of that to date but tomorrow I’m turning the corner.