I’ve noticed a huge, glaring pattern in my life. I don’t know that it’s something I’ve ever avoided or ignored, but it’s something I’ve decided I need to learn to embrace, tightly:

The best decisions in my life are always the big, scary ones. You know, the kind that make you feel as though you’re standing at the edge of a terrible cliff, curling your toes over the lip, feeling the dizziness of being unsafe and too high. The kind that make you want to run screaming and hide somewhere dark and warm until everyone forgets your name. The kind that you know need to be made, for one reason or another, and that can only be made by letting go and falling. Down. Fast. That kind.

The past few months have led me to one of these ledges. I’ve been holding on so tightly, breathing and calculating and trying to figure some way out of this situation that didn’t involve jumping. But, true to the way these things work, I soon discovered that the only way was down.

And so, I’m leaving my job.

Wow, it’s a whole different thing to see it in black and white like that. I’ve had all the conversations, steps are being taken to find someone to replace me, but putting that out, plainly, here…it…feels good.

There are many professional reasons why I’m leaving, however I won’t go into them here. Suffice to say, my work environment has been less than satisfactory for the past several months (and I’m not alone in feeling this). But the thing that’s really driven me to make this decision, that’s moved my finger to push the button, is this blog.

So, in short, I blame all of you that I’m giving up really awesome health insurance and 401k employer matching and a steady paycheck. Haha, just kidding.

But see? Therein lies the fear. There’s this nagging, parental voice in the back of my brain that wants to say that I’m making a stupid decision, that all of these quantifiable, socially-requisite things are far more important than any personal desires I could possibly have. Be responsible. Be an adult, that voice says. But then I take a step back from it all and think, I’m not happy. And I’m not okay with that.

I am happy when I’m in the kitchen, oven preheating, writing a recipe one ingredient at a time from some small glimmer of inspiration in my brain. I’m happy when Chris and I are tasting my creations and I’m considering what could be tweaked to improve upon them (and ecstatic on the occasions when they emerge, fully wonderful, on the first try). I am happy when I’m writing—I’ve always been happy when I was writing. Well, that’s not entirely true. Some of my best work has come from the very darkest times in my life, but you get what I mean. Writing is one of those things that grounds me in life, in who I am. I can’t believe I’ve been away from it for so long.

And so that’s my big news. I’m leaving my job to cook, write, and be here. I don’t know what’s going to come of it or where I’ll wind up, but I’m glad for that at the moment. My world is open with possibilities, and I’m going to spread my arms and enjoy the fall.

NOTE: Before I was able to post this, I was whisked away on a surprise vacation. Which means I have some more big…really big…news. Some of you already know. Some are just waiting for the full story. Either way, stay tuned.