I’m happy.

For once in my life, I feel like things are finally falling into place. I feel as though I now have choices.

Now, nothing has changed on the outside. I’m still doing what I’ve been doing for the past 20 years. However, there is one important difference. I now have hope.

The simple act of making the decision to change my life has been very powerful. I’ve lost that persistent feeling of hopelessness that has been following me around for decades.

I’ve, more or less, completed the outline for what I plan to do in the upcoming months. It’s certainly not chiseled in stone, as I’m sure things will change on a day-to-day basis, once I start implementing things.

Everything is good. It all feels great, except for one thing- I feel that once I tell the world of my plans, I will face a lot of criticism and negativity. Much of this will come from my family and friends. I’m not looking forward to this. However, I realize that in order to start living life on my own terms, I’ll have to ignore much of it.

Like so many others, I have been conditioned by society to regard this type of lifestyle (the one I am proposing) as risky, immature, and irresponsible. Society keeps us in check by frowning upon this sort of thing. Our self-worth is very much tied to what it is we do for a living.

I worry about what others will think of me. I worry about losing my “social status,” as it has taken many years to build. I fear being perceived as lazy and unproductive. Of all the hurdles I will be facing in the coming months, this will certainly be the greatest.

After all, this is going against the norms. It is certainly not how mature, responsible adults are meant to behave.

While many of us may dream of packing in the career, there are, in fact, very few who carry through with it. 95% of us simply accept it as a part of living in a civilized world. “Your livelihood is certainly something you should never gamble with.”

To prove this point, let me tell you about a conversation I had with my brother last week.

I mentioned (in theory, mind you) my plans for the future. The reaction I got was predictable. He seemed visibly upset. He immediately started lecturing me (as though talking to a small child) about how important my job was; how lucky I was to have it, as hundreds would be lining up for it if I resigned. He reminded me of how the rest of the family would react and how shameful it would be to be unemployed. He said it was too risky and that I would have to start all over eventually, with less money and vacation time.

He questioned me on my plans for the future, and when I could not tell him exactly, he told me that he thought it was the most irresponsible thing he had ever heard. Lastly, he told me that he was reacting exactly how any other family member would. He was right about that.

I never thought this would be easy, and I was fully prepared for that type of reaction. However, I’m determined to follow this through, and to not be influenced by others. I’s going to take a great deal of strength and resolve to overcome the opinions of others. Are they genuinely worried, or perhaps a little jealous?

There is no way that I can make this happen without losing some of the “prestige” and “status” that I’ve built up over the years. Frankly, I don’t care. It’s highly over-rated anyway. I’m determined to do what’s best for me.

The final days of our vacation were poisoned with the notion of having to return to work on Monday. All the enjoyment and new-found freedom was gone. I had a nagging feeling of doom and hopelessness that literally sucked the enjoyment out of the final few days. I started waking up in the middle of the night, thinking of returning to that hell-hole. My appetite was gone, and work was once more dominating my thoughts. I was miserable.

Sunday was spent at home, quiet and uneventful. Donna seemed to be ok. She left to visit her sister for a few hours, and I was left to mull over a few decisions.

I was jolted out of bed at 5am the next morning by the very familiar and sickening sound of my alarm clock; the loud bleating bursts, rattling my very being. I hadn’t slept all night. I felt more depressed than I had ever been in my life. I just couldn’t do this anymore. Something had to give. I was now on the rat-race schedule and there would be no time for contemplation, original thought or daydreaming. I was on company time now.

As I was putting on a nice white shirt, I couldn’t help but notice the contrast between my, now tanned, skin and the stark whiteness of the shirt. It represented the conservative, business like, nature of the corporate world, and my skin represented the freedom, restfulness and carefree ways of a summer like no other. I wanted to shred the shirt.

Looking down at my feet, I couldn’t help but notice how great a “sandal” tan I had this year. The tan lines on my feet were a depressing reminder of carefree days at the beach, reading a good novel, or snoozing under the umbrella. Well, no time for that now, I had a schedule to keep (slipping on my socks and covering the tan-lines until next year).

I spent the day overwhelmed with work that had not been done. I worked through my lunch to try and get caught up. Everyone welcomed me back. I was quiet, as usual, for the rest of the afternoon. Throughout the day, I could feel myself being re-programmed slowly.

For the past 15 years of my 20-year career, I have returned to work, after enjoying a great holiday, with an overwhelming urge to just give my notice. I have fantasized about how great this would feel, and how free my life would be, as a result. I have never followed through for many reasons. After all, it’s one thing to think about quitting your job, but another, all together, to actually follow through with it. I suppose we all crave security, and that’s probably the number one reason for not going through with it; well, that, and the backlash that would result with family members. Such a decision would be regarded as immature and foolhardy. Besides, I would lose my dignity and social standing (yeah, right).

Fortunately, this only lasts for a day or so, and then it’s business as usual. I’ve often wondered about this phenomenon. It’s strange how you can’t easily stop worrying about work when you start your holidays, and even more strange how it takes a few days to get back into the rat-race. Is it because we need to be re-programmed? My guess is, yes.

This time it was different. Yes, I still had the same feelings of being trapped and such, but this year I truly felt that if I didn’t make a decision now, that I would remain enslaved until retirement. Besides, recent events in my life were serving as a wake-up call. I sat down and logically thought it over.

I made a list of things I needed to change. Quitting my job was at the top. I then went through all the reasons why it should happen now, instead of later. Nothing is really easy, and you won’t always satisfy everyone, but the decisions still need to be made, otherwise you’ll spin your wheels for years, stuck in the same rut, afraid to move. I decided that torturing myself for the next 20 years was too high a price to pay. Yes, there are a hundred reasons to stay (some of them good), but also several reasons to leave, and leave soon. I decided on the later.

Sept 6 was the day my life changed. On the outside, everything seemed normal, but inside, I was bursting with joy. The decision had been made, and I felt as though a thousand-pound weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I felt better than I have felt in 20 years. A bit scary, maybe, but the relief that the decision had been made was electrifying.

This week has gone great. I am happy and I guess people notice it. Life no longer feels hopeless. I can see a light at end of the tunnel (where it leads to is uncertain for now). I realize now just how trivial this job is, in the grand scheme of things, and how I have always desperately clung to it for *false* security.

Mentally, making the decision is most of the battle.

I’ve always had a tough time getting back into the swing of things after a summer vacation. This year was no exception. Maybe it was the gorgeous weather we had. It was a little on the warm side, but that’s the way I like it.

I spent three weeks simply relaxing and doing nothing and it was just great. We spent a lot of time at the beach and in the back yard. I even got in a few rounds of golf. We spent three days camping up north and the weather was absolutely stellar.

Most years we head out to Virginia Beach for the annual two-week vacation. However, this year we decided to see what it would be like to just stay at home and do “day trips.”

It didn’t take long to realize that we didn’t miss the 14-hour drive, the packing, the hotels and having to eat out all the time. We had everything we needed already. We should have planned this years ago. The best part was saving the thousands that we normally spend on the yearly get-a-way.

Vacations are funny things. Well, at least for me they are.

The first week was spent just winding down. In fact, in the first few days I found myself thinking about things at work. Did I take care of all the loose ends? Did I turn off my voice-mail? I think I forgot to tell my replacement about a critical deadline, etc… I just couldn’t wind down.

The second week was just great. I had totally forgotten about things I might have left unfinished at work. In fact, I couldn’t have cared less. I was enjoying myself. Sleeping in and waking up naturally, instead of being jolted into reality by the dreaded alarm clock. Having coffee on the back deck as we listened to the neighborhood come alive. The “worker drones” hitting the road for the long commute into the city.

In the second week, I felt as though I had all the time in the world. By this time I’d officially wound down. Work (and thinking of when I had to start back) was so far away, it didn’t even matter. I felt free, and it was the greatest feeling in the world.

This year we spent a lot of time on the beach. There is nothing better than the smell of the water, sun block and fresh air. Even when it rains, it still beats a day in the office any day.

The weather was so warm this summer that we were able to stay into the evening. We spent a few nights just watching the sun set on the water, and later we would go for a stroll along the boardwalk. Even at 10pm, there were many people still out enjoying the warm summer nights. I was so far removed from the stresses of the rat race, it was as if I were a different person, leading a completely different life.

I realized at that moment that the simple pleasures in life really are free. I didn’t need the big house, the expensive car, or any of the toys. In fact, I didn’t need the suburban lifestyle at all. It was simply an illusion of happiness and contentment. That lifestyle ensured that I would remain a slave to the system until my retirement. But, here I was, totally stripped of everything but my shirt, shorts and sandals, and I felt better than I had ever felt in my life. I could think more clearly and was genuinely happier than I had ever been in my life. I felt free. Free because at that moment I realized that I could be happy and content without anything the rat-race lifestyle could offer me.

The third week was much like the second. We spent a few days at the house, a few at the beach and the rest exploring a few small towns in the area. People seem to be a lot happier in small towns. Many swear that they would never have anything to do with the city life. They have obviously not been influenced by the hyper-consumption life style that afflicts so many of us city dwellers. I envied them.

The third week was good, but it wasn’t the same as the second. Nothing was different on the surface. We still had great weather and we were enjoying our daytime outings, but something was different. There was a nagging feeling… Very insignificant at first, but it seemed to gain momentum as the week drew to a close.

I mean, I knew what it was, but I tried to ignore it as much as possible. It would win eventually, however. It would grab me and snatch me, against my will, from the wonderful lifestyle we had adopted over the last few weeks. It would be like a hard slap in the face, waking me from my newly found contentment. The rat race was calling me. Welcoming me back and ensuring that I would soon know who was boss. It was determined to make me suffer for the last few weeks of enjoyment. It was letting me know that my brief encounter with freedom and true happiness was, but an illusion. It would make me realize that I was still owned and that I would be whipped back into shape very, very soon.

Yes, I was owned by the rat race. I was destined for crowded highways, office politics and the meaningless drudgery of the day-to-day life of a cubicle dweller. Any enjoyment, contentment and original thoughts would soon be a distant memory. I felt *distressed*?