Today I’m resigning from The New York Times. Those are not words I ever wanted to write.

Growing up, I never even imagined that I would get the chance to live in New York City or to work in media -- let alone at the paper of record. I’m from a tiny town of a thousand people in the middle of the corn fields of Illinois. I paid my way through Christian College working as a groundskeeper, a dishwasher, a roofer, and at summer jobs in factories and on farms.

And yet, I ended up having the chance to work for the most important news organization in the world. And I have loved it. I have been able to collaborate with some of the most talented, passionate and creative journalists in the world. I’ve been so proud and grateful for what we’ve been able to accomplish together.

When I was hired as the first full-time audio producer at The Times, the audio department was just an idea, nurtured in an old closet with grey foam panels glued to the walls on the 16th floor. Now it is a pillar of The Times’ journalism and a model for the industry.

Together with Lisa Tobin, Theo Balcomb, and Michael Barbaro, I helped create The Daily in 2017. Since then I’ve gone on to help create and develop series like Rabbit Hole with Kevin Roose and The Field with The Times’ politics team. And, of course, in 2018 I helped create and produce the most ambitious project I’ve ever worked on: Caliphate.

While I remain proud of our team and what we were able to accomplish with Caliphate, getting any aspect of any story wrong, by any degree, is a journalist’s worst nightmare. After Caliphate was corrected, in print and in audio, peers of mine in the audio industry, from outside of The Times, began to raise questions about why I had been allowed to remain in my position.

There are answers to these questions: When it came to fact-checking support for the project, the Times’ leadership told us that they had their own internal system in place for stories of this nature. That system broke down. And they did not blame us. In fact, throughout The Times’ reexamination of Caliphate, they told our production team that we’d engaged in rigorous and careful journalism. One masthead editor even made it a point to tell me: “I won’t let you blame yourself.”

But in the meantime, another story emerged online: that my lack of punishment came down to entitlement and male privilege. That accusation gave some the opportunity to resurface my past personal conduct.

Like all human beings, I have made mistakes that I wish I could take back. Nine years ago, when I first moved to New York City, I regularly attended monthly public radio meet up parties where I looked for love and eventually earned a reputation as a flirt. Eight years ago during a team meeting, I gave a colleague a back rub. Seven years ago I poured a drink on a coworker’s head at a drunken bar party. I look back at those actions with extraordinary regret and embarrassment.

All of this happened while I was working at WNYC. When my managers there confronted me with how my unprofessional behavior was making people feel, I was ashamed. I apologized to the individuals that I’d learned I had upset or made uncomfortable. And I was punished. I received a warning from WNYC’s HR department that I needed to be more professional or look for work elsewhere. I was told to meet with a professional work-place trainer. I was a production assistant at the time, and the promotion to producer that I had been working toward was denied.

I took this reckoning seriously and I continued to work at WNYC for nearly two more years without further incident.

When I started working at The Times, in 2016, I was open with my bosses and colleagues about this experience and what I’d learned from it. They said that they appreciated my candor and defended me publicly, including in New York Magazine in 2018.

At The Times, I have strived to continue to grow and be a better co-worker and person, and not repeat the mistakes of my 20s. All of my reviews have reflected that. Each year as the team grew, I was promoted to higher levels of leadership. In December, my latest promotion was finalized: I was to become our audio department’s director of development. “Ride or die baby! I’m thrilled about this. You are a treasured colleague and an insane talent. So much to come! Looking forward to toasting,” wrote the assistant managing editor who oversees The New York Times’s audio report.

But that was not to be. The allegations on Twitter quickly escalated to the point where my actual shortcomings and past mistakes were replaced with gross exaggerations and baseless claims. Several people have even alleged that I am a predator and a dangerous threat to my colleagues. I have been transformed into a symbol of larger societal evils. As a journalist, it has been especially discouraging and upsetting to see fellow journalists make such claims or retweet them.

The entire experience has been extraordinarily painful. I know I’m not supposed to say that because people will claim that I’m trying to make myself the victim. I know that I still have a lot of room to grow as a person - I can be overly zealous and talk over people, making them feel unheard. I know that this whole letter opens me up to more public shaming and ridicule. But public shaming is very painful. That is the truth. So is leaving the job you love.

And yet, that’s what I feel I need to do. As the pressure of this online campaign has grown to encompass some staffers of The Times, it has led to a climate where, even though I still love the mission of this important institution, I feel it is in the best interest of both myself and my team that I leave the company at this time. I do this with no joy and a heavy heart.

To the journalists, editors, colleagues and friends who’ve reached out with words of encouragement and support over the past several weeks, thank you from the bottom of my heart. Your calls and notes have meant more to me than you can know.

To all my colleagues with whom I’ve had the chance to collaborate on such important and ambitious journalism projects throughout these last several years, I will miss working with you dearly. I wish you all the very best. I will keep cheering you on.

At some point, maybe I’ll tell this story more fully, but I got into this work to tell other people’s stories. And for now, I’m going to get back to that.

Andy