The Long Way Around

The Ceiling at Midnight

I stared at the ceiling. I stared for a long time.

On my right was my pregnant wife, sleeping. The clock hands pointed right at twelve. A moment ago, I had just arrived home from work.

Another deadline. Another late night.

“So annoying! You woke me up again!”

My wife complained in her sleep, rolled over, and drifted off again.

I couldn’t fall asleep. My mind was racing. I couldn’t remember how many nights had been like that one.

But this time there was no rage, no complaints, no frustration.

That was the night, after months, maybe years, of struggle, that I decided to say goodbye to architecture.

I deserved better.

My family deserved better.

Looking back, there was no one to blame but myself.

I had been a student at a top architecture school and graduated with awards. My work was featured in well-known publications. I passed four licensing exams and was on my way to becoming a licensed architect. I was designing high-profile projects. At the office, I was “the happy guy,” the one who smiled often, worked hard, and loved architecture.

Almost no one could see that I was unhappy and unfulfilled.

I loved architecture. I still do.

I once believed it was the perfect career for me, the ideal mix of art and technology.

But like many architects, I was not happy with the return on everything I’d put in. I felt it more when I compared myself with friends in other industries. I felt it most after my baby was born.

I needed a change. But how?

I scheduled a call with someone I knew at Google. She had been an architect and had made a successful move into UX design.

“Why didn’t you look for a UX position inside the architecture industry?” I asked her. It seemed like the most natural transition I could imagine.

“So you didn’t suffer enough from architecture, huh?” she said. “I wanted to run as far away from it as possible.”

I didn’t expect that.

The call lasted twenty minutes, but it changed how I thought. For the first time, I could see a dim light at the end of the tunnel.

I decided to make a move.

A move without looking back.