"you seem really happy": how i finally chose myself

"You seem really happy."

Two people said this to me last week. Both conversations were with people I haven't seen in a while—people with whom I'd probably not spoken since I left Government. In both cases, I was talking about my work at The Matthew Perry House. It's pretty hard to ask me about work right now and not instantly see me light up.

Both times, the comment brought a smile to my face. I am happy. Not everything in life is perfect, but when I think about what it took to get me to this place, I'm proud of myself.

Leaving a career in Government isn't something people do often. When I tell people I left after 16 years, that I broke free of the golden handcuffs, they always look at me in amazement. The truth is that I was terrified. I knew that my career was slowly killing me.

The Breaking Point

In November 2023, I was on the brink of burnout—again. It had only been eight months since I'd returned from my first burnout leave, but the writing was on the wall. The job I had returned to was unsustainable. I knew that when I came back, it was supposed to be my soft landing. However, I had not been successful in finding another Executive position.

As someone with mental illness, I had the added challenge of trying to find a position where I felt I would be accommodated. Episodic disabilities are less predictable, which means I typically am on the lookout for a good leader rather than structural accommodations. It's not always something that is easy to judge, and it's the reason that I changed jobs so few times in my public service career. I also now required flexibility as a parent navigating the complex medical landscape for neurodivergent kids.

When I got passed over—more like ghosted—for THE unicorn job, I started to feel hopeless. I had spent more than a decade trying to fit the mold of a public servant and had generally been pretty successful in masking my mediocre job satisfaction. This was the first time in my career that I truly felt trapped.

In the meantime, the job pace was unrelenting. Besides the day-to-day work, I was dealing with HR issues that made for complicated workplace dynamics and a tremendous amount of additional pressure.

It wasn't long before I was bringing my work home with me—both mentally and physically. I started having trouble sleeping. I was becoming more anxious and impatient, mostly at home with my family. These were all symptoms I knew well, the same things I'd experienced during my first burnout. The difference was that this time, I was not willing to sacrifice how much healing I had done or the progress I had made.

The Decision

I took time off over Christmas, and in the New Year I made the difficult decision to go back down to part-time. It was a decision strongly endorsed by my GP and psychologist. In one session, my psychologist told me point-blank that if I were to burn out again, I risked not returning to work at all.

My boss was supportive, as was my team, but I was inundated with guilt. My work wasn't going to magically disappear. Instead, my managers needed to step up and cover for me—to do my job on top of their own. It was already a busy time for everyone, and asking people to take on more felt selfish.

But I knew, deep down, that if I didn't do this, I wasn't going to make it. 

By early March 2024—less than one year from my return from my first burnout—I left on extended leave again. Only this time, I knew I was never coming back.

The Fear and the Leap

While I felt a sense of relief, I was also scared. What if my coaching business didn't take off? I worried that I would cause my family financial ruin. What if I was making a huge mistake?

In the end, the road to where I am today has not been linear. It has been full of ups and downs.

What I thought I would be doing when I left Government is only a small part of what I'm doing now. I love coaching. Helping individuals harness their inner wisdom to close the gap between where they are today and where they want to be brings me so much joy. I love it. I am so thankful that I can continue to coach on the side. 

But landing a full-time job at The Matthew Perry House was never on my bingo card. I never imagined that I would find a career that would bring me so much joy—a job that would fulfill me both professionally and personally. A place where I can maintain boundaries and not worry about needing to be accommodated, because I am treated like an adult and I manage my own time and work.

The Cost and the Reward

As a family, we've had to make sacrifices. Since I left Government, I have not made even close to what I thought I would. We've burned through a significant portion of our savings to compensate for my lack of income and have cut out things like family vacations. It has been hard to feel like my decision to leave my job meant that my entire family had to sacrifice. But it has also felt incredibly supportive to have my husband who understood the stakes and how much I needed this change.

Life is still a work in progress, I think it always will be, but I am happier than I can ever remember.

I only wish I could go back and tell that version of myself that she was going to be alright. That she was doing the most brave thing she has ever done: choosing herself.