Page 9 of Unconventionally, Elle

Now

R?eality could only be avoided for so long, and I knew I had to get back to mine.

I'd reached that part of the grief process where I was nothing but pure rage, and my anger hangover was having a disastrous effect on my well-being.

The headaches were nonstop and all I could eat--when I remembered--were a few tortilla chips with cashew queso.

There was no energy to cook, no energy to move my body, and no energy to be a human being.

Most of the time, it felt much easier to exist than to live.

This was my last day before going back to work.

It had been easy enough to take a few extra days after the vacation, but I couldn't sit on this resignation any longer.

I didn't want to go back, but I didn't want to entertain this anxiety and darkness any longer.

I needed to finish my resignation letter. Tonight.

I'd felt this way before. I'd been lost in darkness, angry and sad, confused and hopeless.

I'd lost myself in a cycle of despair and anxiety right after Grandma Di passed.

I remembered how that darkness had felt like an escape, how the world was too much, and every decision I made had felt like the wrong one.

It almost killed me. It took a lot of time with my therapist and medication to get me through that season of my life.

I can't let that happen again. This ends now.

A few hours later, I texted Rachel and she agreed to video-chat with me while I read her my two weeks' notice. I thought about taking two weeks of vacation time, but I decided I'd rather have my vacation time cashed in on my last paycheck.

"You know," Rachel said as she finished the letter, "I really love the part about 'exploring new opportunities.

' Even though I know you're super pissed, I wouldn't know it by the letter.

Way to stay classy, Elle." She lifted her wineglass to the screen and gave me a virtual cheers.

Turned out, even with my sizzling rage and copious amounts of red wine, I had written a solid two weeks' notice--professional and straight to the point.

"Tomorrow I'm going to turn it in to Mr. Landry. I just want to get it over with. I can't eat or sleep, and I feel like pure shit," I said after swirling my malbec. "Do you think he'll make me work the next two weeks?"

"I don't know. I mean, you're not going to work for the competition, are you?" she asked.

"No, I don't plan to stay in corporate, let alone insurance." I watched Rachel's wineglass stop halfway to her lips.

"Wait, what? I didn't realize you were leaving corporate entirely.

Elle, it was just one bad company." Her eyebrows were pinched together and her tone was sharper, as if she was trying to understand something that made no sense at all.

After another slow sip, she continued. "Well, to answer your question, I'm not sure.

In my company, if someone is going to a competitor, they have to leave the office that day.

" The corner of her mouth tilted in an apologetic frown.

"I wish I could tell you definitively what to expect, but I've never quit before. "

Oof, that felt great. Does leaving make me a quitter?

"What are you going to do? Corporate is what you've always done.

It's what you planned to do. What could you possibly want to do that isn't within corporate America?

Even journalism jobs can be corporate. I mean, I'm sure I can get you a job here with the PR team.

Why don't you try that? We could live so close to each other, finally! "

I let Rachel go on about all the people she could talk to, what positions I could apply for. She'd make sure it was a done deal, and I'd have a new job before I even quit my old one. I let the rich, fruity flavor of the malbec sit on my tongue.

How did I explain to someone who loved her corporate career that I just knew it wasn't the right path for me anymore? I think I'd known for a while. My body had known, and I hadn't listened.

The depression. The anxiety. The abhorrent mental health. It was all real. I was never taught there was another way to be successful. But I felt it. There had to be. Corporate wasn't for everyone, and I was confident that I was one of the unconventional ones.

The world might say, Okay, they took an account away from you, big deal.

But that's just it, it was a huge deal. I was crushed.

Corporate may be perceived differently depending on the person, but to me, I no longer wanted to sit at a desk from the strict hours of nine to five.

I'd never been cutthroat or competitive.

I didn't want to have a career that drained me or trapped me in a certain location.

I wanted to be free. I wanted to be creative. I wanted to be unconventional.