The Importance of the Pause

Originally published at KarenVernon.net on April 9, 2021

Part 2 of a 3-part series on The Career Path Less Traveled

In Part 1 of this series, I described my lessons learned the hard way when I made an ill-considered career move some years back. So as you can imagine, when I found myself facing a more recent fork in my professional path, I approached it with fear and trembling.

That earlier move had come on the heels of a merger that had taken me out of the beloved organization where I’d spent more than two decades growing my career, catapulting me into an ill-fitting role with the new parent organization. As I was still grieving the loss of my “home” workplace, personal tragedy struck as well. I was reeling on all fronts, developing health issues, and not finding the support I needed to get myself on track in my new role. Somehow, despite the chaotic state I was in, I sought and in a single week was offered not one but two presumably great jobs with other organizations. 

I remember agonizing over these choices, convinced only that I had to make a move. I was working with a leadership coach at the time, who kept asking, “What are you feeling?” and “What do you want?” as I processed these options.

“I feel exhausted,” was my consistent answer.

If you’ve read Part 1, you know I did not choose wisely, and ended up in that little office with the “Not an Entrance or Exit” sign on the closet. I chose it because it seemed the antithesis of the situation I was leaving – a simpler, calmer place that would give me space to breathe again. My desire for that altered state clouded my judgment and drowned out the alarm bells that were ringing all along – the staff I’d be working with did not seem welcoming, the bureaucratic structure was a recipe for frustration, the physical environment was bleak and uninviting. There was so much about the situation that clearly wasn’t a fit for me, but in my desperation to make a move, I looked the other way. It ultimately didn’t work, because what I really needed, if I’d been listening to myself, was rest.

Fast-forward another five years, and the company I’d successfully returned to after that brief misstep was itself acquired by a corporate behemoth that brought change not just to my role, but to the entire culture and purpose of our work. True to form, I gave it a good try, but more and more the gnawing voice in my head (and knot in my stomach) were telling me that this was not a place I could spend the remaining decade or so of my career.

Given my earlier experience, I knew what not to do (or so I thought). I knew that this time, there wouldn’t be another do-over. I was determined to learn my lesson from the past, and have patience to find just the right next step. I could wait, I thought, as long as I was working on my exit strategy. I began a very focused job search, interviewed well, and was first runner up for a couple of really great opportunities. But nothing came through.

Then, staying became harder, because I could no longer do my work with integrity. The incongruence was eating away at me, and I found myself back in the familiar place of feeling exhausted and unhealthy all the time. I asked myself the questions the coach had asked before, “What are you feeling?” and “What do you want?” And I kept giving the same answer, “I feel exhausted.” This time, I added, “I don’t want this to be how it ends.”

A lightbulb went off, and I knew, with a clarity I never felt in the prior move, what I needed to do. 

I needed to pause. To turn to wonder. To embrace the questions, to lean into the unknown. To apply the life lessons gifted me by the “Not an Exit or Entrance” sign.

By listening deeply to my own heart and soul, I realized that I couldn’t offer any future employer – let alone myself – my best until I’d given myself time to rest. 

So I did exactly what all my HR experience told me I should never, ever do: in my mid-50s, I left a lucrative job without knowing what my next one would be. (In a particularly thrilling twist to the story, this occurred 10 days before the world shut down due to the COVID-19 pandemic. But I digress.)

Immediately, this time I knew I’d done the right thing. And, I was terrified, despite the safety net of a small nest egg – a luxury I do not take for granted – that allowed me to press pause, to rest, and to explore what would come next. 

While those months did give me the gift of time and space, they also brought me face to face with my deepest fears about self-sufficiency, and self-worth, and purpose. Though I’d intended to use the time to immerse myself in the creative writing I never had time to do with my demanding job, I instead found that my creativity suffered under the burden of fear and anxiety about my now-unknown future.

I tell this part because I think too often we hear about dramatic career moves and downsizing that can seem sugar-coated and rose-colored. In reality, this was not an easy time. It forced me to confront some hard truths about myself, and make some very tough decisions financially and personally. It’s part of the story – maybe the essence of it – and it can’t be skipped or glossed over.

But from the perspective of a year later, I can categorically say this pause was the single most important investment I’ve ever made in my career. Because of it, I’m more satisfied with where I am now than I would have thought possible, and on a path I wouldn’t have expected. 

More to come in Part 3: The Bell-Curve Career