My Path Was Under Construction and Nobody Told Me
For most of my life, I followed the path I was told was responsible.
Go to school. Pick something to major in. Get a good job. Work hard. Climb the ladder. Save for retirement. Stay grateful because plenty of people would love to have what you have.
That was the blueprint.
And I followed it.
So imagine my surprise when I got far enough down that path and realized I was not fulfilled. I was tired. I was uncomfortable. I was increasingly aware that the life I had worked so hard to build did not feel like a life I wanted to keep maintaining.
At some point I started wondering if maybe my path was under construction and nobody told me.
Because I did what I was supposed to do.
How did that work out?
For me, not particularly well.
The Problem Wasn't Just the Job
I had been with the same company for about 13 years when I finally submitted my resignation. At 40 years old, this will be the first time since I was 15 that I have not had a traditional W-2 job.
That is wild to even say.
And I want to be very clear because I am not interested in turning this into one of those “quit your job and chase your dreams” speeches. My job served a purpose in my life. I am grateful for the income, the benefits, the experiences, and the stability it provided during a season when those things mattered tremendously.
But there is a difference between something being a good opportunity and something continuing to be good for me.
That distinction took me longer to understand than I would like to admit.
I kept looking at the job on paper and asking myself why I could not just be satisfied. Other people would have loved that position. I had stability. I had worked my way up. I knew the organization. I knew how to do my job well.
Meanwhile, my mind, body, and spirit were basically standing in the corner with their arms folded like, Girl, are we seriously still doing this?
Eventually, I had to listen.
One Paycheck Was Controlling More Than My Money
One of the biggest realizations I have had while thinking about career change at 40 is that relying on one paycheck was affecting far more than my bank account.
When one company was responsible for my primary source of income, that company naturally had influence over how I used my time.
If I wanted to take a vacation with my family, I needed PTO.
If I had a doctor's appointment, it had to work around my schedule.
If something happened with one of my children, my husband and I had to figure out whose job was more flexible that day.
If I wanted to write, build my publishing business, make videos, explore another income stream, or simply have enough mental energy left to think creatively, all of that had to happen around the job.
Again, that is not some sinister corporate conspiracy. That is employment. They pay for access to your time and labor.
The question I eventually had to ask was whether that arrangement still made sense for the life I wanted.
For me, the answer had become no.
"Good Enough" Kept Me There Longer Than I Needed to Be
I think we talk a lot about leaving terrible situations, but nobody talks enough about how difficult it can be to leave something that is simply good enough.
Good enough is tricky because nothing is dramatically wrong enough to force your hand.
The bills are being paid.
The benefits are there.
You know what to expect.
You have built a reputation.
You have years invested.
And then there is that little voice reminding you that leaving a stable job sounds irresponsible when you have a family, a mortgage, children, and actual grown-woman obligations.
So you stay.
I stayed.
I actually wrote my resignation letter with a future date on it twice before I finally submitted one.
Twice.
And both times, I did not keep my word to myself.
That bothered me.
Not because I think every scary decision needs to be made immediately, but because I knew I was not staying because I had suddenly rediscovered passion for the work. I was staying because the unknown scared me more than the familiar discomfort did.
There is a point where being cautious stops protecting you and starts containing you.
I had reached mine.
Pressing Send Changed Something in Me
When I finally submitted my resignation, I expected to feel panic.
Instead, I felt relief.
I remember sitting there thinking about what people might say. Thirteen years with the same company and I was just leaving? What would they think? Would people think I was being irresponsible? Ungrateful? Reckless?
Then I caught myself.
Why was I still worried about managing everyone else's opinion of a decision they did not have to live with?
So I took a breath and pressed send.
And almost immediately, it felt like doors started opening in my head.
That is the best way I know how to describe it.
Nothing outside of me had magically changed yet. I had not suddenly built a seven-figure business. There was no mysterious check waiting in the mailbox. I was still technically working through my notice period.
But mentally?
Space.
Possibility.
Options.
And I remember thinking, I think these are the options.
Having Options Means More to Me Now
Before this experience, I probably would have defined having options mostly in financial terms.
Multiple streams of income. A business. Investments. Savings. Assets.
I still believe all of that matters. In fact, I probably believe it more strongly now.
But options have become much bigger than money for me.
Having options means not having every decision in my life filtered through one employer.
It means having enough ownership over my time to explore opportunities when they appear.
It means building income sources that are connected to things I actually own.
It means being able to create something, test it, fail, adjust, try again, and not immediately wonder whether I have enough PTO available to participate in my own life.
It means increasing the number of choices available to me.
That is what betting on myself means right now.
Not pretending there is no risk.
Not pretending entrepreneurship is easy.
Not pretending I know exactly how this story ends.
It means deciding that I would rather participate fully in creating my future than continue maintaining a version of stability that was making me miserable.
I Can't Leave My Kids My W-2 Job
This thought has been sitting heavily with me.
I spent years contributing to the mission of a company. I worked hard. I took that responsibility seriously. I climbed. I learned. I contributed.
But at the end of all of that, I had to ask myself:
What have I built that actually belongs to me?
Because I cannot leave my children my position.
I cannot hand them my salary.
I cannot put thirteen years of excellent employee performance into a trust and pass it down.
But I can build assets.
I can write books.
I can build a publishing business.
I can create intellectual property.
I can build an audience.
I can develop ideas, frameworks, products, and work that continues to exist outside of the hours I personally spend producing it.
That does not mean everybody needs to become an entrepreneur. It means I had to get serious about what legacy building looked like for me.
Working hard was never my problem.
I already knew how to do that.
I needed to start directing more of that work toward something I owned.
This Is Not About Being Anti-Job
I am not interested in pretending employment is inherently bad and entrepreneurship is some superior form of enlightenment.
Please.
Self-employment comes with its own collection of foolishness. Nobody is withholding taxes for you. Nobody is handing you a task list. There is no guaranteed direct deposit every two weeks because you showed up and did what you were supposed to do.
A W-2 job can be an excellent option.
The problem was that I had allowed it to become my only option.
And when something becomes your only option, fear gets very loud whenever you consider changing it.
That is the part I am challenging.
Not employment.
Dependency.
Not stability.
Limitation.
I am learning that security and familiarity are not always the same thing.
Sometimes something feels safe simply because I know how to survive there.
That does not automatically mean I should stay.
So What Happens Now?
I genuinely do not know whether I will ever have another traditional job.
Maybe I will.
Maybe I will not.
I am not making declarations just so Future Ebony can come back here and ask Present Ebony why she was talking so much.
What I do know is that whatever comes next has to align with the woman I am becoming and the life I am intentionally designing for my family.
Right now that means writing.
Publishing.
Creating.
Showing up on camera even when visibility makes me uncomfortable.
Building a business around ideas that actually matter to me.
Learning how to create multiple streams of income instead of allowing one paycheck to carry the entire weight of my financial life.
And taking myself seriously enough to see what happens when I stop keeping one foot planted in someone else's mission while trying to inch the other one toward my own.
For years, I kept saying I wished I had more time, more capacity, and more room to build.
Now I have asked for the room.
Which means I also have to do something with it.
That part is terrifying.
It is also exciting.
For the first time in a very long time, I feel activated.
And maybe that is what having options really means for me.
Not knowing exactly where every road leads.
Just knowing there is more than one road available.
Watch: Maybe My Path Was Under Construction and Nobody Told Me
In this video, I talk through this realization in real time as part of my 15-Day Visibility Challenge with Renee Coakley and the Build Your Options Cohort.
I am still figuring out what this next season looks like, but one thing has become very clear:
I do not want fear disguised as stability making my decisions anymore.
And if this path is under construction?
Fine.
But this time, I want a say in how we're building it.
