In Search Of A Different Future

As motivational speaker Julia Arndt wisely observes, "You don't have to prove your worth by staying in the wrong place."

Discovering you are not the person you once were, with the same ambitions you once had, is never easy. Allowing yourself the time and space to do so is even harder.

From my 20s to my late 40s, I had one goal: to become the editor-in-chief of Essence magazine. I’d spent most of my professional publishing career at the brand, held nearly every editorial position you could name, and learned the history, the inner workings, and the foundation upon which the legend was built.

I waited patiently until the universe felt it was my turn, and when it finally did—bam!—I was ready. I had prepared for the moment, and was excited to finally see my hard work come to fruition.

It was all good—-until it wasn’t. Sometimes we focus so much on the goal we don’t make room for what might come after—things like feelings of isolation, the unrelenting fugue of corporate politics and the envy of colleagues who were once your contemporaries.

Two years ago, I felt an unsettling in my spirit I could no longer deny, a desire so strong to escape the professional life I had for decades so painstakingly built, I had no choice but to get out.

I kept dancing around the decision: what will others think? How can I walk away from the title, the salary, the recognition?

But in truth, all of those things were silent killers that no longer served me. I was tired of what felt like a life full of concessions, with little professional freedom and lots of capitulation to workplace dynamics that were not aligned with my true self.

I’d be in meetings, listening to leaders whose definition of leadership felt more like bullying. Leaders who lacked the emotional intelligence to motivate and inspire teams. Leaders who measured success in clicks and audience engagement without caring how those clicks and engagement were amassed. Somehow the focus had shifted from serving the audience to serving the investors and venture capitalists who were keeping the organization alive, and I was ready to bail.

The internal friction that followed my decision was uncomfortable, and at times I wondered if I was doing the right thing. Pride can be a terrible nuisance when you’re trying to break a professional pattern you’ve been hardwired to follow: aim, excel, aim, excel. Rinse and repeat.

But when your intuition tells you it’s time to move on, when you feel you’re ready to shed the professional life you’ve worked so hard to build, even if it means losing career status and that salary that enabled you to sustain your quality of life, it’s okay to listen. The universe opens a window of opportunity, often at the very moment we most need it. And it’s up to us to either step into the unknown, or shut the window.

I encourage you to always leave the window ajar.

Today I have a softer life. I don’t miss the boardroom battles, or the corporate focus on money-making at any cost. But it has meant that I’ve had to make some wildly transformative mental, emotional and, yes, financial adjustments.

I no longer aspire to be in the C-suite. Been there, did that. I’ve accepted that my two Ivy League degrees and 30+ years of work experience have served me well, and now it’s time to do a new thing. And that new thing doesn’t have to put me at the top of the leaderboard. In fact, I’ve found that at my age, I much prefer being in the background, quietly nudging the next generation to carry on practices I still believe matter in order to have a career with impact: servant leadership, mentorship, and investing in people’s potential.

We all have those moments when we can—and should—allow ourselves to stand at the edge of possibility and say, “I want something different.” You can want a different future for yourself: not because your past was lacking, but because you deserve new adventures, greater joy, and boundless opportunity.

Your past has carried you here. Your pride in it will carry you further. Your desire for a new future will set your next course. Embrace it all. The best stories are those where the hero never stops believing—in what they were, and in what they still can become.