This first-person account stems from a discussion with Renee Devore and has been condensed and clarified for publication.
Back in 2022, while employed at an Anthropologie store in a shopping center, a shopper stopped me with a puzzled expression, questioning my shift to retail. She knew me from my former role as principal at her child’s school.
“I’ve left the principalship behind,” I replied with a smile.
After a quarter-century in education, I walked away to chase an unknown future.
## Following in My Father’s Footsteps
My father taught for a living, and with limited career models around me, I naturally gravitated toward his profession.
I earned my degree and began teaching at 21, but within three years I sensed it wasn’t my fit. A move to San Diego revealed that classroom work still beat the desk-bound alternatives I was offered, so I returned to teaching.
Even while staying in education, I chased adventure through travel, deliberately placing myself in unfamiliar settings just beyond my comfort zone.
With a master’s in hand, I secured an assistant principal post in an LA suburb at 32, then advanced to principal a year later — achieving the administrative ambition I’d set for myself at 17.
## Feeling Utterly Unsupported
I oversaw thousands of high-performing staff with creative freedom to shape the school and community. Then a district change coincided with my father’s death, and everything began to collapse.
Despite my competence, I lacked mentorship or support to stay afloat. The role demanded someone I wasn’t — I’m naturally warm, creative, and diplomatic, but at work I wore a constant mask, which drained me completely.
Ten years into leadership, a 2017 Mexico vacation changed everything. I met someone on an unpaid three-month sabbatical; his freedom sparked envy. Back home, I floated the idea — and nobody thought it was nuts.
I liquidated my condo, car, furniture, and wardrobe, then headed to Puerto Vallarta to rediscover myself. Such radical breaks are more common now, but back then they were rare.
## A Panic Attack Changed Everything
I expected Mexico to deliver a clear roadmap. It didn’t. A tranquil year of painting — a new passion — brought peace but no direction, so I returned to education feeling trapped, convinced it was my only option.
A year later, a panic attack struck — mimicking a heart attack or stroke. Terrified, I called my retired therapist, who talked me down and helped me secure a month of FMLA leave to reassess.
That month confirmed I could never return. I resigned effective June 2022 with zero plan, no career clue, and no financial safety net from a partner.
I simply refused to re-enter that cage of pressure and daily pretense. I was finished.
I had retirement funds and savings, but more crucially, I trusted my ability to land on my feet — because I always had before.
## Heading to the Mall for Work
My first post-career job was at Anthropologie. Two months after leaving education, I walked into the mall, asked for the manager, and awkwardly explained I’d just quit as a principal. She asked if I wanted work.
“Yes,” I said. “I suppose I am.”
She directed me to apply online, and within two weeks I was working part-time at a store I’d loved and visited weekly for years.
The job became a sanctuary of stillness. My worth no longer hinged on a title or paycheck; I discovered I was enough simply as myself.
Months passed as my nervous system decompressed. The work was low-stakes. I played. I enjoyed myself.
Over a year later, clarity arrived: my next chapter would blend life coaching, motivational speaking, and entrepreneurship.
Unwinding after a decades-long, high-pressure career isn’t instant — it wasn’t for me. But once the dust settled, my path forward finally came into focus.