Trigger Warning: This story includes references to depression and suicide.
When I sat down in my manager’s office for our 1-on-1, she asked if I was about to give her my notice. I asked her how she knew – she said she felt it1 that morning. She wanted to know if there was anything she could do to change my mind. While feeling grateful that she asked me to stay, I gave her a month’s notice.
Leaving a lucrative job at the company I admired — had very little to do with my own will.
By the time 2019 came, I was about to go into my 9th year at Apple (coincidentally, the same length of time I have been in therapy).
I had nothing to complain about — I had a good work-life balance. I had a great team and a well-oiled process. Everyone knew their roles and responsibilities, and it felt good to be a part of such a team.
During one of my therapy sessions, I casually mentioned that I sometimes thought about crashing my car on a highway ramp. My therapist immediately stopped the session (she never did so before) and asked Jeff to be brought in immediately.
A few days later, just like one of the episodes from Intervention, Jeff and my therapist sat me down in her office. They discussed why it was crucial to leave my job as soon as possible. I didn’t feel “depressed” – I wasn’t sad or tearful – so I didn’t feel the need to quit. I felt fine, yet both said I wasn’t.
It was frustrating – did they doubt my ability to do my job? Were they saying that I wasn’t cut out for it? I thought I was doing fine, and everything seemed fine, too. I was definitely not convinced by the newly formed tag team of two.
Keeping my job meant that I was able to support myself. I was proud that I wasn’t financially dependent on anyone, not even my spouse. What about our collective finances? Jeff said we would figure it out together. He added, “What good are your RSUs if you’re not around?”
They wanted me to live.
Still, the idea of not living wasn’t mortifying or terrifying.
What contribution was I making in this world? What was the purpose of my life? Why did I exist? I understood there were people who cared about me, but I felt nothing at that time. I was numb.
But I was outnumbered. I lacked the energy or reason to resist. So I decided to get the exit process going.
Over the next three weeks, I tried my best to 1) document everything that I did in my role, 2) train people who would take over my responsibilities, 3) say goodbyes to those I crossed paths with. In hindsight, I should have left by the end of week 3 since I felt unproductive afterwards.
When my last day finally came, I felt I had overstayed my welcome.
I felt like I was lying about why I was leaving (“I just need a little break” versus “My people wanted me to get out of here because I sometimes wanted to die”). I fudged what my next step was going to be (“I am going to figure it out soon” versus “I have no fucking clue whatsoever”). The weight of too many repeating lies became unbearable.
I don’t have a lot of memories of my last day.
I remember handing over my badge to my manager. Walking out of the donut building. Driving Highway 85 back home. Sleeping for 18 hours.
I still haven’t fully processed what happened.
I can’t change what I did or didn’t do. I can’t determine whether my corporate career was a complete waste of time (I got paid, so there’s that).
I don’t want to sugarcoat my experiences. Nor do I want to overdramatize them.
I worked there, and then I left.
Although less frequently, I still think about cars and ramps and question why I am alive and the purpose of my life.
However, the difference now is that I don’t feel numb like I used to. I can pay attention to the people around me and feel their warmth and care.
I don’t really feel alone anymore.
That’s all, for now.
Next week on Reading Dad:
My dad’s experience on his last day (technically, the day after) after 33 years.
Btw, I had the same feeling when my analyst J told me that she was leaving. My dad said once you start managing people you just know some things. I guess that’s intuition?
I appreciate the honesty here. And calling it what it is. I look forward to reading more about how you are post job.
I agree with Stephanie, your honesty is captivating. I am happy to hear you do not feel alone any longer. And I too look forward to following your Substack journey. 💜