I did it. I quit my job.

Just breathe. Everything is going to be okay.

I kept repeating this mantra as I made my way to my CEO's office on Monday to officially resign. I suppose the first thing you'd think I felt when I walked into his office was triumph and relief. Something akin to the French liberation during WWII, but on a much smaller scale, of course. There I was, after all, taking my destiny into my own hands and carpe diem-ing. But for a few fleeting minutes, I felt quite the opposite. I was terrified. I knew I was going to do it, there was no question of that, but I liken the whole experience to skydiving. When push comes to shove and you take the final jump off that airplane, there are a few moments (which I may relive during the next few months or years of my life) where you're terrified your parachute won't open and you'll land, splat, in a field of cow dung, with those around you muttering "told you so." Walking in and quitting yesterday was that jump off my plane.

And guess what? After shutting his door, taking a seat and telling him I was officially, well, out of there, I knew deep down that everything really was going to be okay. I just needed to push off that plane with the force I had mustered in the last few months and not look back. So I did, and the feeling of being so in control of my fate and future felt (and still feels) fabulous.

I was terrified of cutting loose the security and comfort that comes with having a salary but the reality of my situation -- of all of your situations, actually -- is that money comes and goes. It's like water through your fingers. Keep what you need in a canteen at your side, enough so that you'll never go thirsty, and then go forth and work hard at what you love. There will always be more water, and there will always be more money. And if you feel like it may take a while to get to that next stream to refill, than learn how to make your water -- or dollars -- stretch until you get there. Just don't let your fear or uncertainty be what extinguishes you ever taking risks in the first place. Don't get stuck setting up shop near that first river you come upon, failing to ever go forward and see what other, bigger rivers lie on the horizon. Believe me, that first river can be mighty comfortable, but I think sometimes it takes "uncomfort" to shape who you are and make you stronger, more resilient and ultimately, more happy.

Will times get tough at least through this next year? You bet. There will be days I'm sure will feel excruciating, days when I'll feel like I have no money at all, days I'll wonder what the hell I'm doing up and quitting my cush job in This Economy, days I might actually consider buying one-ply instead of two-ply bathroom tissue just to save money. But I will always remind myself of what the suffocating alternative is. I may not have a lot of money in the near future, but I'm going to have the freedom to pursue what I want to make happen, not what anybody else's vision or dream is. And that's important to remember. No one said taking risks was easy -- that's why they're risks, after all. If they were a piece of cake, then everyone would want a slice.

But don't think that it was easy walking away from my job, my paycheck, security, stability and all those other rooted tendrils that ensnared me for the last two years in a web of oblivious complacency.

All my life I've followed a conventional path: I graduated with good grades from high school, went to college, grad school and got a job that steadily allowed me to pay rent, bills, shop and save. All those fun "life" necessities. I know a few people who don't and/or didn't enjoy being college students. Well let me rephrase that: They enjoyed the parties and "good times", but didn't enjoy the studying and the classes. They feel disappointed in themselves for following the structure traditionally set up for them. For me, it wasn't structure that made me go to college or grad school. At the risk of sounding nerdy, I loved being a student and debating with professors, going to class, studying, and writing pages and pages of lit analysis.

But I don't love holding down a job just to have a job. That's where I whipped around and looked Structure straight in the face. "What if you're not for me? What if I'm confident that I can make a damn good living without you?" I asked it during the summer of last year. It laughed at my naivety, telling me to stick it out for another year at work. So I doubted myself, and followed its advice. And now, a year later, I've caught up to Structure and told it I don't want it leading me around anymore. I'd step off its track and venture out into the forest to forge my own, unknown way. My success and earnings will now rest solely on my shoulders and the effort I put forth. From here on out, I will not get paid to "just show up." That fact alone is one of the most empowering feelings I have ever experienced.

Talk about judgment. It's palpable on the faces of some of my friends and even family. I can see it. After all, it's cute and all that I want to an be author, but what am I going to do about my real job? At first facing judgment from those I cared about, even if they tried to hide it, both hurt and stung. I quickly got over it though, and I harbor no ill feelings or dislike for those that don't understand. Three years ago, I probably wouldn't have understood either. It's important to remember that people are always at different points in their lives. It's somewhat of a miracle when an individual can truly empathize with the perspective of an another, so I've accepted being judged as not a flaw in the judger, but as human nature, and I've refused to allow it to ding my confidence anymore. The only person who can make me happy is myself. People will always judge your actions, opinions and beliefs, but if you are happy with your decisions at the end of every day, I think that's all that matters. Life is too short to pacify the barrage of judgment around you.

That's not to say I'm an eternal optimist. If anything, I'm too much of a realist.

It would be naive to assume that every dream pays off, that every hope not reached in the end wouldn't be laden with some form of regret for what was given up. But I'm willing to accept the consequences. I firmly believe that each one of us is in charge of our own destiny. Fate alone only takes you so far.