What Leaving My Marriage Taught Me About Brave Career Decisions

On a cold February night in 2008, I ran away from the South Slope apartment I'd been sharing with my husband like my life depended on it.

In a full-blown panic, I ran down 4th Avenue shrieking, "JUST GO AWAY!" to the man I'd shared a life with for the last three years.

How we got here 

18 years ago, I married a Japanese man who'd overstayed his student visa and dreamed of pursuing a jazz career but worked as an undocumented sous chef in restaurants.

A year into dating him, he asked me again and again to marry him so he could get a green card.

I, smitten and naive, relented.

We got married at city hall. No white dress. No fanfare.

A gutwrenching disappointment 

Much to my outrage, he could not answer a single question at the green card interview.

He couldn't answer the question about where my family lived, though we visited with them every holiday. He couldn't remember the color of my toothbrush, though he'd seen them daily for the last two years we'd shared a tiny bathroom in Brooklyn.

He froze.

We looked like complete frauds.

Sometime after that incident, he started to insult me, call me stupid, and gesture like he was going to hit me.

The absolute last straw.

That February night, I planned to pack a bag while he was working and sneak away to safety across the Hudson River.

While packing my bag, he came home early.

I panicked and ran, tears streaming down my cheeks.

Wait, how's this relevant?  

I share this personal anecdote not for shock value but because I've come to understand something important yet often overlooked:

Acting in alignment with your deep, honest truths will sometimes feel gut-wrenching, heart-breaking, and terrifying -- in your careers, too.

When a manager you trusted throws you under the bus. 

When you realize, "Staying in this job means denying myself emotional and physical safety."

Or when you risk your reputation, income, and disapproval from folks you care about to take the stand that's right for you -- not what everyone else says is the right thing to do.

18 years ago, when I was running away from a marriage sobbing and screaming, it didn't feel brave. It didn't feel ok.

It felt like a failure. I felt shame and fear.

But the gut-wrenching-yet-self-honoring choice to end the marriage led me to a life of safety, love, and partnership -- with someone I've now been with for 17 years. 

So here's the takeaway: 

The decision that honors who you truly are — beyond roles, titles, or “shoulds” — might not feel good at first.

It might feel like everything is unraveling.

It might cost you comfort, stability, or approval.

It might break your heart.

But the choice that feels gut-wrenching and true?

That’s the one that creates space for real safety, growth, and freedom.

It might not feel brave in the moment.

But in hindsight, it just might be the beginning of everything good.

To your brave next step, 
Jamie