On August 14, 2025, I walked out of my office in midtown Manhattan for the last time. The following day, I wrapped up some final tasks, sent a farewell email linking to this reel, and shut down my corporate laptop for good.
I told everyone I was retiring early, which was the partial truth. After very nearly dying from sepsis last year, I realized more than ever how precious this one life is. I wanted more time to achieve personal goals and be with my family.
The full truth was that I’d been pushed out by a toxic manager and an avoidant VP. I was so stressed and unhappy that I was losing sleep over my job—even though it was mostly chill, and I loved everyone else on my team—and getting the Sunday scaries from hell. Likely I was also burnt out from the industry and the endless politicking of my roles in product and program management.
I was interviewing for a once-in-a-lifetime role at another well known technology company. I loved the vibes of both people I’d met so far. The recruiter had terrific energy; the hiring manager was thoughtful and seemed like an inspiring leader. But the more I imagined myself commuting three days a week, trudging in and out of NY Penn Station with increasing NJ Transit delays and no solutions on the horizon, signing up my first grader for after-school care or asking a friend to babysit, not having enough time to cook at home… I couldn’t do it. Even if they would’ve let me work fully remotely, I just couldn’t face the 9-to-5 anymore, with all its systems and logins and meetings and documents and strategizing and OKRs and KPIs and cross-functional collaboration. Frankly, I have enough money that I don’t need that life anymore. So I told them I was out.
Now I am retired. Out of the workforce. A stay-at-home mom. A trophy wife 😄.
I can’t believe three weeks have already passed. I feel as though I have done so much and so little at the same time. Already, I have no idea how I was able to feel any semblance of contentment with my life when forty hours each week was consumed by work. I am surprised I held it together as long as I did, not only dealing with a boss who constantly assumed the worst of me, but also juggling a career with the demands of parenthood and the household. I always had to regiment my time so tightly, visualizing Gantt charts in my head for chores and errands to ensure every hour was maximized for productivity. Everything was go-go-go. Even when I finally allowed myself to wind down with a TV show, I couldn’t just lie there; I had to exercise while watching. I was like this for years.
These slower, spread-out days are not new. In 2023, I was part of a mass layoff that included my entire team. I still have some lingering feelings about that. Part of me wishes I hadn’t transferred to that team, because if I’d stayed on my previous one, I’d probably still be working there today. I wonder why other people were able to rejoin the company quickly, while I got rejected the three times I applied. I see former colleagues celebrating work anniversaries and accomplishments, and question why they got to stay instead of me. But wounded pride and resentment aside, the time off was actually kind of nice. I told myself it was a paid sabbatical. I spent three months relaxing, going for long walks, taking yoga and Pilates classes, and checking out local restaurants and happy hours. A week after my official termination date—those of us based in New York had remained on payroll for 90 days while blocked from everything else—I jumped right into a new job.
It all worked out, more or less. And I feel reasonably confident that, should I decide to return to the workforce in five or more years, it will work out then, too. In the meantime, I am going for more long walks, spending time with my first grader when he comes home from school instead of ignoring him until 5:00, and healing from my traumatic last job. I also hope to have more creative outputs to share here soon.
lunarsine 