I sent a text to Frit today that said, “Do you know what today is?”
“Monday,” she answered.
“Yes,” I replied. “AND my three year anniversary!”
“From your dismissal?”
“That’s right. And look at ya now.”
“And look at me.”
It’s been three years to the day since I drove home in the middle of the work day, with my entire professional life sitting in a box in the passenger’s seat beside me, feeling fearful, hurt, embarrassed, and angry–but relieved all the same.
It’s been two years to the day since I felt anxious that my life wasn’t moving forward fast enough, like I wasn’t working hard enough to make things happen–that I had nothing to show for the year I’d spent on my own. Shortly thereafter I sank into one of the darkest times of my life.
And it’s been one year to the day since I flew back to Utah after having spent an entire summer by the seashore mending that dark little broken life, recapturing my passion and purpose.
Three years. So much happens in three years. And yet, it doesn’t.
I do still feel angry, although it’s not as fierce as it was. And I don’t know if it will ever go away completely. Which, quite honestly, is fine with me. It’s not an anger that eats away at anything. It just sits there deep inside and only bobs to the surface (pun not intended, although my word choice there is quite apropos) when I’m reminded of my “dismissal.”
But, I’m not fearful anymore, or hurt, or anxious, or embarrassed. Although I do feel those emotions vicariously whenever I hear of anyone losing their job. It doesn’t matter if they’re strangers or friends or mere acquaintances, if someone loses their job, I feel that familiar pinch in my heart. It’s the pinch I felt when I sat across from my former “boss” (quotes used intentionally, queue said anger) and heard the words, “we’re going to have to let you go.” And then I cry for that person, whomever they are–because I know the grief that will soon ensue for them, and it’s a devastating experience.
But–then I promise them that it will get better and that even though it feels like hell today, there is in fact a light at the end of the tunnel. It might take a month, it might take a year, or it might even take two, but it does get better and there’s a whole world of possibility waiting on the other side of job loss.
And as I look back over the last three years, and see all that I’ve learned and all I’ve become, I find that I can say with confidence and surety, I am so glad I’m here and not where I was.