Reflection on Leaving Corporate Life
My last day at ENGIE was November 1, 2024, a day after my 22nd anniversary. When I started, the company was called Tractebel, often mistaken for Taco Bell, a Belgium owned entity that had acquired CRSS, the original corporate form of the US entity. I avoid using “retirement” except as a language short-cut as the intent was to reallocate my time to writing, this blog, reading and other pursuits such as restarting my yoga practice and more time for gardening.
My relationship with my corporate life was complex (or at least, in my mind, it felt that way). I didn’t like my job (Tax Director), it was a despair, and I also enjoyed it as it challenged me in terms of process improvement, problem solving, technical understanding, and team leadership. At work, I knew what I was doing, or I had the ability to learn, and I had a confidence lacking in the rest of my life. For many years, the pay didn’t measure up to the work required, but the last few years that changed, and I was well paid. The idea of walking away from the nice paychecks and the big bonuses generated a lot of resistance. My Alert Manager went into overdrive around trust—would I have enough, because relying on others exposed me to risk. At the same time, I was conscious of the despair, that the job drained my soul, and that continuing on put me out of alignment. Multiple factors were in play, but a significant part of that equation was the move to an open work environment; I’m a deep thinker, I tend to hyper-focus when working or writing and being in an environment designed to be distracting and to encourage interruptions was a constant assault on my mental well-being.
My heart and my mind agreed that the time to go had come, and when those pieces of me come together, the mountains move.
When I told my boss that I was leaving, it felt like I was jumping off a cliff. I was numb, but as the last words tumbled out, as my boss realized there was nothing she could say to change my mind, an immense relief washed away the numbness leaving clarity that I had done the right thing. My immediate thought was, What was I so afraid of? Money is needed to navigate life and to thrive (at least for most people), and I could have always used a bit more, but in truth, I had enough. But paychecks were not the only thing I was leaving behind. I mattered at work. With my husband gone, the question pursued me in persistent loops, Do I matter to anyone? When I use the word “matter”, I mean it as a weighty judgment that someone cares at a deep level. And yes, I have many people who care about me, with whom I matter to a certain degree, but if I ceased to exist, would any of them actually notice after a week or two?
But of course, being important at work is for the most part an illusion. The caring was conditional and dependent upon constant high-level performance. Stress and work was a rocky marriage that took its toll in health and sleepless nights.
“Retirement” is also a milestone on the way to dying, and that may be why I resist the word. But of course, whether I go to an office each day to stress over spreadsheets and e-mails or the latest reorganization versus writing, dreaming of new scenes, being physical and connecting with friends, life moves on either way. At the same time (my mind does this A LOT), the ending of corporate work was the beginning of a new hopeful life. In that way, it serves as a metaphor for life itself.
So far, despite 9 months of distributions from my converted 401K, my investment balance had increased. I have stayed within budget even with a number of surprises. At times, the money has been tight, but it has been enough and sometimes I’ve had extra to play with (such as designing a reading space per the previous week’s blog). I start the day with a morning walk, then yoga, followed by coffee and breakfast; it’s a joyful way to begin! My sleep has improved, I’ve gained muscle, I have time to write and to connect with others. Corporate life dominated my existence. And yet leaving was easy—it feels like something from ages ago. As much fear as I had around exiting, I rapidly moved on. I was ready to go. Should I have gone earlier? Perhaps—but I think the timing was as it was supposed to be.
I’m getting to find out more about who I am, what I want. I no longer have the Tax Director label to use as a crutch to explain who I am. If I had not listened to my intuition, I would be weighted with regret. There was a loss in leaving ENGIE. And there has also been the opening of a reservoir of joy.
In the end, I am here to find meaning, believe, to create and to hope. However this phase of my life turns out, whether something occurs that causes to be doubt my decision, I know enough to understand that I have been true to myself—and I am most grateful.
