For nearly two decades, “gut chew stew” is how I have described the nauseating mix of excitement and dread that comes with a major career decision or transition. In 1995, I was offered a job at a major financial services company: big increase in pay, fast-track yuppie career path and lifestyle, etc. I fretted about it for several days, but resolved my first case of gut chew stew by deciding to stay in higher education. While I often wondered how my life would have changed had I decided otherwise, I have never regretted my decision.
Not surprisingly, I’m in the throes of a major case of gut chew stew now. In about an hour, I will deliver my official notice of resignation to my boss’s office, which I expect she will read when she gets back to the office this evening or early tomorrow morning, just before I am scheduled to meet with her. Meanwhile, I need to get a hi-res headshot to the college in Q’ville so that they can send out a press release tomorrow or Friday, and I am getting all kinds of congratulatory emails from people from the college. I’ve started the process of telling friends about my decision and its consequences, and am bracing myself for some of the more difficult conversations I need to have. Meanwhile, work goes on at its usual breakneck pace at my current job, my staff unaware (or so I think) that I plan to leave.
When I run marathons, and the inevitable low point comes, I always imagine the post-marathon dinner: the cocktail, the steak frites, the convivial conversation, and the satisfaction of toughing it out. I’m trying to imagine a moment about 6 months from now, when the dust is settled, and when this low point is a distant memory, when it is perfectly clear that I made the right choice and that it was all worth the effort.