I reached high into the back of my closet. Hoping the teetering stool would not collapse to the ground, I opened several boxes before I found the confidence I needed to help me do what I needed to do that day...

I reached high into the back of my closet.  Hoping the teetering stool would not collapse to the ground, I opened several boxes before I found the confidence I needed to help me do what I needed to do that day.  The skinny heeled red shoes.  Bought on clearance several years earlier, I had intended to wear them more often, but they had been destined for inauguration on this day.

I squeezed my sockless feet into those shiny red shoes, and checked the mirror one last time. With added confidence from my son’s babysitter assuring me they looked as cute as I hoped, I set out to conquer my world with red on my feet.

This day of my courage also happened to be the first day construction began at the parking garage at my office, adding another 250 steps to my hike into the building. I thought of Chinese women who suffered the ancient custom of foot binding as my feet shouted at me with every one of those 250 extra steps, which I counted in pain. 

I bound my feet that day because I would soon have fewer chances to wear fancy shoes. They had no indication of their fate, but my closetful of business casual outfits, now hung in danger of molding to their hangers. I needed red shoes that day to remind me that this day brought independence and shouldn’t simply be labeled as the day my career ended.

Once I arrived at my cubicle I took a few minutes to regain confidence.  Acting on the culmination of a three year decision loomed at the top of my agenda for the day, but I didn’t have my usual sense of urgency to get started with the to do list.  Before I could think of anymore excuses, those red shoes led me from my computer screen and weaved down the rows towards my boss’ office.  Somehow, I walked in to where he sat.  I laid the letter on his desk without ever having the courage to look in his eyes.  The official finality of the words on that paper meant the decision I’d been pondering had been made.

I didn’t stay in his office. My newly independent feet led me right back to the safety of my little cube where I sat for a few moments reminding myself to breathe deeply.  This day had always been my goal, it just happened at a later time than I ever planned. Long before my body matured with an ability to have a child, I intended to stay home full-time whenever I became a mother.  Maybe I kept working because of money, or drive, pride, or just plain old procrastination.  Whatever bound me to my corporate job longer than I expected possessed strength that only red shoes could conquer.  It held the power to keep me working for two years after my initiation into the world of motherhood although I constantly questioned why I continued to go into the office week after week.

 I loved the ever-changing responsibilities I received through my work.  My boss interacted with me as an understanding friend and since I had dropped to 15 hours a week, everyone told me the opportunity was perfect.  I agreed in theory with everyone’s idealist assessment yet I questioned it every time my lips told someone of my great situation.

The ties to this job were not even woven with the ruthless plague of guilt. Knowing the sweet college gal who stayed with my little boy took wonderful care of him and probably paid him more attention than I would offer kept me from feeling guilt about being away from my son. 

I never realized why it didn’t feel right until my red shoes took me back into my cubicle after delivering the resignation letter.

Like the way I still cling to my favorite pairs of comfortable yet worn-out sandals, I held onto my job because I couldn’t reconcile the logic of throwing something practical and routine away.  

This could be why the red shoes represented the meaning behind that day so well.  Until then, I followed along the mold laid for me.  I walked comfortably along the proper path tagging along the route others had figured out.  On the surface I felt that by continuing to work in my pre-baby world, I maintained independence, but on that day when I put on those red shoes of boldness, I began to understand that by resigning from my spot in the corporate world, independence could now fill my future.

Having an identity as a working mom among my stay-at-home friends and at the same time being known as the “part-time one” to my coworkers had led me to a mixed-up place where I fit in only half-way with both circles.  I didn’t have time to fully pursue my passions away from the office, yet my bosses regularly passed me by when it came time to offer those challenging reach for the stars kinds of opportunities at work.  My life had become stuck in a pleasant place in the middle of the road, and could have continued comfortably there for many years.

That day of the red shoes, when I resigned from my job of almost ten years, I broke away from a life that had evolved to a safe place.  During my college days, when I daily dreamed radical ideas and a fear of settling for status quo troubled me, I created a list of questions to periodically reflect on and challenge myself with.  One of those reminders I had written to my future self included never allowing future me to continue doing something just because it felt comfortable. 

Now that I’m walking on the other side of the red shoe day, I can see my part-time corporate/ part-time mommy life had become comfortable.  I needed more courage than I thought I had to stop doing the sensible thing.  By keeping my feet in two different worlds, my life had been created by what seemed practical rather than one I deliberate chose. My college-self would have been squirming in that settled life.

That evening when I finished the work of those red shoes and they took me back to the safety of home, I enjoyed often declaring, “I quit my job today!”  After all, only a free spirited person said those kinds of words.   Never mind that my structured nature could only say those words after planning them for years.  It reminded me of the shocking statements my college friends used to shout just to get a reaction even though they couldn’t prove a single word.  But these words were true.  I did quit.  I have given up my twice a week commitment to the corporate world.  And these words have fanned my inspiration to only take deliberate next steps. 

I know I will be spending more time with my little boy.  I know that steps will be taken to pursue my writing dreams.  I know the world seems wonderfully open and at the same time ready to squeeze me back into its mold.  I also know the red shoes are not returning to the back of my closet.  Now that I’ve taken the first steps of boldness, I will take more.