I started a new job about nine months ago. As I wrote last summer, while I was getting ready to move to New York, I was hopeful that I would finally have a chance to settle in and put down some roots. I’ve moved so many times in my life, and I’m just so tired of it, so this role was an opportunity to finally be somewhere for a while.
Unfortunately, the last nine months haven’t been what I was hoping for. Almost immediately after starting, I found that working at this level of administration, at least at this institution, doesn’t agree with me. Too much stress, too many long days, and a general sense that for all of my effort, I’m not accomplishing very much. I’ve been working harder than at any time in my career, trying to move the needle on any of a dozen different projects, but it just hasn’t budged. I know I’m a good manager, I’ve worked at all kinds of places, and I can basically take a library apart and put it back together at this point. I know that I’m fully qualified to do this work, but even with all of my skills and experience and effort, it hasn’t made it any less overwhelming.
Compounding the issue is the realization that I haven’t felt particularly welcomed by my workplace, or the surrounding area. I get that no one takes the new boss out for coffee, but the whole community feels very cut off from the outside world. When I first arrived and told people in town that I had just moved here, many of them asked “You moved here? Why?” (I encountered the same sentiment when I first moved to southern Colorado; it’s the sort of interaction that makes one question their choices.)
When talking about all of this, my partner said “Our life is like the show Quantum Leap; we keep going from place to place, hoping that the next one will be home.”
And so, after fifteen years away: I’m going home. I’m resigning my position and moving back to Florida next month to be near my family. I was there very recently, and realized that I’ve been trying to “put down roots” again and again while ignoring the fact that I already have a community, it’s just one that I left.
As I let more people know about this, I’m anticipating there will be some responses along the lines of “Really? Florida?” And while I understand the punchline status that the state carries in parts of the country, the fact of the matter is that everyone is from somewhere, and that’s where I’m from. I’ve lived all over the place, and have traveled still more, and there’s something about canopy roads and access to open water that feels deeply comforting to me. I also found recently that I can navigate Tallahassee, where I haven’t lived since 2011, far more easily than I can the city where I’ve resided for nearly a year.
Reflecting on it all, I realized that when I lived in Florida, especially in my last years there, I had a giant chip on my shoulder. I spent so much of my youth wondering if I’d ever get out. If I was “good enough” to get out.
But then, I did get out. I was smart enough, kind enough, and worked hard enough to get out, and then move up in my profession. After a series of relocations and sacrifices, I made it to the point where I had a seat at the big table, where consequential decisions get made. And while I had been working towards this kind of job, at some point I looked over and realized that the chip on my shoulder was gone. I didn’t have anything to prove anymore. I now know that I can play ball, and keep up, with anyone, anywhere.
The thing is, I don’t need to be working this hard. The toll it’s taken on my mental and physical health has been significant, and after some recent family issues, I’m realizing cliches like “life is short” exist for a reason. I don’t want to be a thousand miles away from my loved ones anymore, especially when the only reason I’m so far away is because I’m tied to a job that I don’t find particularly rewarding, living in a place that I don’t particularly enjoy. And, increasingly, wondering how long it’ll be before I drop from the stress.
My plan for now is to wrap things up as best I can in this role and try to set up my colleagues for success. I don’t have another job lined up, so in the copious free time I’m about to have, I imagine I’ll be writing quite a bit about what’s happened. Not just in my most recent role, but in my career. It would seem that hitting twenty years of full-time library work, and now stepping back, has my head swimming.
The last thing I’ll mention is that while this decision was initially terrifying, the support I’ve received from my friends and family has been incredible. It’s been so long since I’ve made so many people so happy, and I had forgotten how good that feels.