Stillness
It took weeks to find stillness.
It started when I left my position as a Staff Product Manager at a technology company in Denver. After more than four years with the business, building and evolving its payment systems and user experiences, it was time for a change. Ever-grateful for my time there, working with and learning from talented and experienced colleagues, and driving forward a mission worthy of all of the above, there came a time for something new.
Product management is difficult. Our responsibility within businesses is visible and cross-functional. Product teams are considered the experts of their domains and are accountable for the success or failure of a product. They must speak intelligently about business, design, and engineering details. They are often the first to hear of and assume responsibility for issues within an experience or system. They are celebrated when things go well, but often only for a brief moment until the next project begins. Building rapport and unity with engineering and design teammates is critical as they are under similar scrutiny to deliver. It is a demanding role. I am proud of the work I’ve done in the position.
After ten years of requirements gathering, writing, wire-to-wire meetings, design reviews, all-hands presentations, data analysis, metrics definition, daily check-ins, retros, refinement sessions, and planning sessions, I needed a reprieve.
I’d never taken a break.
Between my two product jobs, I allowed myself one week alone. I welcomed both children during my tenure at my last company, enjoying two rounds of parental leave, for which I am grateful. For each respite, a return to full-time employment always loomed. This time, I intended to finish strong and then take time, without a position lined up, to refocus, recharge, and spend time with my family.
intention
When we discuss growth with our children, we stress the importance of eating well and drinking plenty of water. Ensured physical growth is the primary bribe to consume prepared meals. We emphasize the importance of sleep, running fast, jumping high, reading books, and staying happy. It is common wisdom that all these components comprise well-being. However, living these values to the degree we preach them to our children can be challenging.
I sought to practice the principles I espouse to myself, others, and my kids.
During this sabbatical, the days are busy. They are focused. It took time, but I settled after years of constant multi-tasking, stressing, and exceeding capacity.
Challenges remain: the kids can drive me crazy, and the to-do list shortens slower than perhaps possible. But even the moments that aren’t picturesque are illuminated by a sense of belonging and substance. I assess my reactions with intention and respond accordingly. I practice Dr. Aliza Pressman’s BALANCE tool (breathe, acknowledge, let it go, assess, notice, connect, engage) in moments of stress.
I did what I set out to do - spend time with my kids and wife. It is intentional and meaningful, I believe, for all of us.
The transformation from overworked and tired to meditative, peaceful, and present did not occur overnight. It was a slow burn to ease into a way of life foreign to my past decade.
DEPARTURE
One could not script the day of my departure and the subsequent feeling of freedom better than reality did. Freedom, in this context, is not the same as calm.
I woke early to craft a farewell email to my colleagues and friends.
Receiving farewell emails from colleagues always invoked various emotions: Gratitude for our time together. Sadness to know our time is concluding. Admiration for their talents, character, and integrity. Pride for what we accomplished together at this company.
Those feelings magnify as I author my own.
Today is my last day here. I am writing to thank you. The past four years were transformative, rewarding, challenging, and inspiring. I still and always will believe in our mission. Knowing that you all are at the helm, driving with the determination that got us here, reassures the success of that mission. Have fun while you do it. Our time is limited - love every moment.
I will be cheering for this company from afar. Moreso, I will be cheering for you from afar. I wish you the absolute best here and in all your future endeavors.
I trust this is not goodbye. For those in Denver, don’t be a stranger. I’ll keep an eye out for you on the streets, at concerts, and on the slopes. For those out of town, please let me know when you visit, as I will do the same when I find myself in your area. If I can be helpful in any way to you, your success, or this company’s success, please reach out.
Be well, my friends.
Andrew
I sent that note to over 100 people. The response was supportive, positive, and sad. It validated the notion that the relationships one creates while working together ultimately supersede the work itself. The reward of designing, planning, and executing a project drives us to continue on our professional paths.
To the surprise of the other attendees, I joined several meetings that morning. Participation lacked more than usual, but my passion remained. Most of the day was spent with co-workers - wishing them the best while providing candid feedback on opportunities I saw for the company. The motif was the same: focus on building each other up, embrace positivity, and double down on what works.
My day ended unexpectedly and abruptly. I joined a one-on-one call with my manager around 1:00 in the afternoon. Smiling, at ease, and excited to thank her for her guidance and support. She joined the call in tears. Not because of our final call, but because of another meeting she just left. Politics, toxicity, stress, fear, and uncertainty were to blame. Her uneasy state quickly led us to the feedback I listed above - something needed to change. It was the appropriate tone for our last call together.
As I spoke the words that meant the most, “Thank you for everything,” My computer screen went black. Picture the stereotypical *bzzeeww* of a machine shutting down.
I assumed it was a forced software update. I had deferred the recommended update by days, perhaps weeks. However, upon reboot, I saw a screen I’d never seen before requesting an administrator’s password.
Sauntering to a friend’s work area, I said, “I think I’ve been booted. Mind checking my Slack status?”
Andrew Leede (deactivated) glared from the screen.
I’d been cut off during a Zoom call with my manager about four hours before the close of business. It was a brusque crescendo to four years at the company.
The IT department tried to sort things out, but getting back into my applications was ultimately more trouble than it was worth.
I was done.
I handed over my MacBook, gave my building badge to the front desk, and returned to my workstation.
Sitting in my chair, I had no idea what to do. Most every moment in that building was spent working. I had no work to do. I had no responsibility to my teammates or that company anymore. I made small talk with my dear friends who were in the office to join me for a farewell happy hour. They were still working. They discussed a deck on which they collaborated. I sat there.
Quickly, feelings of relief and freedom commingled with confusion and aimlessness. I was adrift.
Seeking provisions, I journeyed to Ship Tavern, a stalwart restaurant and bar in Denver’s historic Brown Palace. Brightly lit, adorned with gold accents, classic black leather seats. The piano sat left of the bar, awaiting its maestro for weekend singalongs. French fries, an IPA, and the New York Times kept me company. I hadn’t sat and read a newspaper without something looming on my mind in many moons.
The evening capped with a farewell at a Mexican restaurant in the neighborhood. People with whom I had toiled, prospered, challenged, been challenged by, failed, and succeeded occupied a long table near the bar. Those who joined represented a cross-section of my time there. Varied roles, responsibilities, and positions showed up. It was an evening I will fondly recall.
Upon departure, I had the opportunity to properly catch up with my manager for the first time since our unceremonious terminus earlier in the day. Our conversation focused on the future, personal value, and positivity. Three guiding principles led me to make this decision and continue to lead me during this time of regeneration.
It was the perfect send-off. A perfect launch into the next chapter.
As I drove away, it became evident that I was not adrift. The wheels of our Wrangler felt especially solid on the pavement. A ship with a clear and distinct heading. A heading motivated by family, community, and wellness - true prosperity.
Illness
My first day doing as I pleased was spent doing just that. I dropped my son off at his preschool, chippier than usual.
Knowing the list of household tasks I had saved up for this free time, I visited the local Ace Hardware, colloquially called Ace on the Fax (Colfax) for the necessary equipment. Breakfast consisted of two cups of coffee, an egg a la Andrew (cooked in bell peppers and jalapeños) on toast with sliced tomatoes, microgreens, hot sauce, and water with Liquid IV.
True to intention, I played a game with my daughter before she and her nanny visited the Botanic Gardens for their activity of the day. Hours into this frame of mind, I already felt more grounded, more attuned, more present.
I caught up on personal emails - reading investment letters, wisdom from the recently departed Charlie Munger, perusing sales, and registering for AI courses.
Weeks prior, I scheduled a call with a former colleague to learn more about his experience at a new company - one that was hiring. Strolling the greenbelt on 6th Avenue, we discussed life, professional challenges, company culture, and connection. It was a strong early reminder of the importance of staying in touch. Relationships are the web that enables us to move - sideways, up, down, forward, and back.
Spring had officially sprung. I celebrated with a bodyweight strength workout outside. Sunscreen-scented and sweaty, a meditation solidified the tone for the remainder of the day.
Preschool ends early in the day. After school, my son and I went to the indoor pool at the community recreation center. We rode the water slide twelve to fifteen times. He dove for red, blue, green, yellow, and purple rings as droplets from the nearby splash zone rained. After an hour, we had to be reminded that the pool was closing for swim lessons.
After a family dinner, the kids’ bath time was held in the “big bath” - aka my and my wife’s bathtub. A video of the evening captures their faces, barely above the rim of the tub, playfully negotiating the temperature of the bathwater, taking turns adjusting the hot and cold to get it just right.
I don’t remember whose bedtime I did that night, but I do remember ending my day feeling grateful.
As I put in a text that day, I was “pretty fuckin psyched, not gonna lie.”
Things changed the next day.
I woke with the sniffles.
I had not been sick in many months. I know this because I somehow managed to avoid the ills that befell everyone else around me sick during that timeframe:
Various colds picked up from preschool and toddler classes
RSV that hospitalized my son on Thanksgiving
Hand Foot and Mouth disease that plagued my daughter over Christmas
My dad wasn’t so lucky on this one
Sinus infections
Mild, lingering dry coughs
Positive COVID tests after company parties and friendly gatherings
Whether lucky or maintaining a strong constitution, I somehow avoided contracting all of these things. Let it be known that I would have taken the ills that befell my family from them in an instant, but that is not how this world works.
Now, with a runny nose and congestion at the same time, I laughed about this reality. Of course, I’ll come down with something right as my responsibility load lightens a bit.
I replaced the garbage disposal on our kitchen sink in a bit of a haze. The electrical wires on the extension cord from the outlet to the device were not very well marked. I spent an inordinate, unnecessary amount of time fretting about which was hot and neutral. This is not difficult to figure out. It was for me that day. We went out that night, and I powered through a headache and increasing nasal pressure.
The next day, I was down for the count. Body aches and chills rendered me useless. I got into bed early, intending to read for a little bit. I woke up a couple of hours later, wearing my glasses, book in hand, lamp still on, drenched in sweat. Not one page was read during the collapse.
I am not a doctor, but I am convinced this malaise was “leisure sickness” in full force. Described by ChatGPT:
It refers to a phenomenon where people experience physical symptoms, such as headaches or fatigue, when they relax after a period of intense stress or work, such as during weekends or vacations. While it's not a medically recognized condition, some individuals report feeling unwell when they finally let their guard down and switch from a high-stress state to relaxation.
This may be linked to how the body reacts to stress. When you’re in a high-stress mode, your body is on high alert. Once you relax, it may cause a shift in hormones or immune response, potentially making you feel sick.
It felt remarkably ironic. The moment I let go of mental and emotional distress, a physical burden ensued. A cruel, but apropos joke by the universe.
clarity
Fully recovered after a couple of days, I settled into the planned routine. Bike rides to and from summer camp with my son, dedicated adventures with my daughter, intentional visits with my wife, a consistent workout regimen, and exploration of things I enjoy, such as writing these entries.
Ambition and ego enter the equation occasionally. What should I be doing? Is this the most productive use of energy? Is my career in jeopardy?
Those questions answer themselves as mundane moments pulse with vivid meaning. During lunch in a deli booth with my daughter after playing on the playground, her blond curls were more striking than usual. The squeak of the cloth against the counter during the nightly clean. Collecting peonies for a bouquet with the buzz of the bees, the neighbor’s water feature, and the distant traffic providing the soundtrack. No podcast, music, or audiobook accompanied the chore.
I set a “New Year’s resolution” years ago to be more present. In reflection, that goal took effort and dedication to achieve. It cannot be invoked through intention. Prioritizing presence, actively choosing to sit in the moment, feeling the ground, and quieting the noise have been transformative. If there’s one thing to carry forward, it’s stillness.
