i don’t even know why I’m so nervous after all these years, maybe because I’m 54 now and everything feels more fragile, even the things I thought I had figured out. I’ve been working in this company for more than 20 years, through restructurations, new managements, endless workflow updates and all the “as per our last email” nonsense that comes with corporate life. and now that I finally have something for myself, my little office at home, the massage table set up, the kinesiology charts pinned on the wall, my magnets sorted in a drawer like some kind of treasure chest, I’m scared stiff of telling my boss I’m quiting. Isn’t that stupid? after two decades of performance reviews, KPI check-ins, regular compliance training and being told I’m “a strong asset”, I should be able to say one simple thing: “I’m leaving.” But he likes the job I do, he always says it, sometimes I even think he relies too much on me. And he doesn’t believe in kinesiology at all, he once called it “that body energy thingy you see on TV” and laughed. So how do I bring this up without sounding like I’ve lost my mind, or like I’m running away from the whole production chain just to go hug crystals ✨?

The weirdest thing is, I’m not unsure about the choice itself. I’m ready. really ready. I’ve read so many books, done trainings, passed exams, practiced on friends, even did a few sessions with co-workers who were brave enough to let me test muscle responses on them. One of them told me, “Honestly, it kinda worked,” which is still my favorite feedback ever. I’ve been doing the logistics too, registering my activity, checking insurance requirements, planning the client intake forms, trying to figure out how to explain muscle testing without sounding like a witch. everything is in place, even the scent diffuser that smells like eucalyptus went crazy last night for some reason. And yet, I freeze every time I imagine the conversation with my boss. He’s not a bad guy, just very...pragmatick. “Evidence-based or nothing,” he told me once when we were talking about stress. I know he’ll look at me like I told him I’m leaving to go join a circus. Should I try small talk first? Should I just say it straight? have you ever had to quit a job when the person in charge thinks your next career is bogus; because that’s exactly my situation and I feel like I’m rehearsing a script that won’t sound right no matter what?

Another part of me still remembers the early days when I was doing data-entry and he was still learning the ropes himself. there was this one time, during a big audit, where I stayed until midnight to help clean up the regulatory documentatoin, and he told everyone the next day, “She saved our asses.” That stuck with me for years, maybe too much. maybe that’s why I feel like announcing my departure is like betraying some old unwriten pact. But I can’t spend the rest of my life worrying about whether someone else is disappointed because I want to follow my own path. I’ve spent over two decades dealing with supply chain anomalies, preparing monthly reports, making sure the backoffice processes don’t collapse over a missing signature, and honestly it’s enough. My body is tired. My shoulders are constantly tight. last winter, I kept thinking, “If I’m helping everyone else stay on track, who’s helping me?” That was the moment I knew something had to change, even if the change made no sens to anyone else. My sister even told me, “At your age, people slow down, not start new weird careers.” But I’m not slowing down, I’m redirecting. Isn’t that allowed?

So now I’m drafting the resignatoin letter, with typos everywhere because my hands are shaking like an idiot. I wrote, “Thank you for the opprotunity,” and didn’t even correct it yet. maybe it shows how human this all is. Maybe it’s fine. The real challenge is deciding whether to explain everything or keep it short. Do I say “I’m becoming a kinesiologist and magnetizer,” or do I just say “pursuing a personnal project”? I keep hearing his voice saying, “We need you in the Q3 cycle,” and I know the timing sucks, but if I don’t do it now, I’ll never do it. life isn’t waiting for the perfect slot in the operational calendar; and neither am I. I keep thinking of that line from a book I read years ago: “Sometimes the door is open, but you have to be the one who walks through.” So maybe that’s what I’ll do. maybe I’ll sit down in his office, smile politely, and say, “I need to talk to you about something important.” And then I’ll just breathe and hope the world doesn’t fall appart. After all, if I can help clients align their energies, surely I can survive telling one man I’m moving on. Right?

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