LEAPING FROM SOMEWHERE COMFORTABLE

I resigned yesterday. I was nervous about logging on to the call, knowing it would be something of a shock to my manager in Minnesota, who was expecting a regular weekly one-to-one.

"So," I said, right from the top, and just as about as cheerily as possible, "I have news..."

"Oh!" said she, surprised, "What's new, Matt?"

And then I launched into the speech I'd rehearsed. It wasn't very easy. Why would it be? I'm ending 9 years of work at the same company, doing a job that I think I've been a singular constant in. The seasons have changed, the teams have changed, the management has changed, but I've been steadily working away at the heart of the docs team since the second quarter of 2012.

She was naturally disappointed, but still said the right things and asked the right questions. I found my eyes flicking around the room, overlooking the sunlit street as I explained some of my reasons. I was avoiding eye contact with the tiny 'video on' light and the laptop screen. My hands were in motion and my lips were saying things like 'I just felt' and 'It's time to move on' and other things she admittedly had heard me express concern about before.

It's a strange thing, leaping from somewhere comfortable. There is an enormous urge to stay where it's warm and familiar, where you know everyone and you feel like part of the furniture. As I was registering her disappointment on-screen (and my hands were trying to explain my decision) I felt that twinge of regret.

Am I doing the right thing? Will the new job work out as something I can actually do? Will it all be alright? Will I be able to do the handover well? How will the team react?

Suddenly, it felt incredibly real, and a little bit weird.

It's a natural part of change though, I suppose. Risk, that feeling of leaping, not knowing for sure that you're going to land well, is the exhilaration of life, and the adrenaline we sometimes need.

So then. I kickstarted the process. Adrenaline flushed through me. Then, later, as HR were quick to point out in their email, I will be missed, and as I replied, I will miss, but that's okay: it's time to leap.