Saying goodbye to something you enjoy sucks. When you find yourself leaving a job you love, on your terms or not, your emotions can be all over the place. It’s rough, it stings, and you might second guess yourself. Bottom line – leaving a job you love isn’t easy. Here’s (a part of) my story…
At the beginning
I spent five years at my old office. It was my first (paid) legal job out of law school and I loved it. I loved every single minute of it. Seriously – I was even jazzed when I stayed until 7pm and cancelled dates because of my job. Sadly, two years before I left there were some personnel changes that made the entire office toxic. Gone were the people I could trust to foster my legal career and the feeling of office commraderie was replaced with backstabbing, sycophants, and put downs.
The flip
It had turned into a place where no matter how good your work was, no matter the just verdicts you earned, no matter how many others respected your work ethic, no matter how many hours you put into rounding out your knowledge base, it was never good enough if you weren’t a member of the “inside circle.” Your ticket into this circle was the at-first-blush approval of the master of this circle. After you were given your ticket in, your rent in the circle was paid daily by what shit you could talk about your colleagues – bonus points if the “dirt” you could conjure was about those outside the circle. It was a zero sum game and it was brutal.
I wasn’t in the circle. I was one of those who endured backstabbing by so-called friends and public humiliation and shaming for things that were legitimately out of my control or not my fault at all. This is when I was given the choice to keep blogging or lose my job.
Did I make mistakes? Of course. Who among us is flawless? I accepted and owned up to my mistakes but every stone that was cast at me wasn’t of my doing. I vividly remember sitting in a closed door meeting with two men (no women) and being screamed at by Man B for the advice and directions I was given by Man A. Man A knew these results were because of his directives, both these men had at least 20 years each of experience on me by the way; but Man A wouldn’t put himself in the line of fire between me and Man B. He didn’t even, at the very least in my opinion, ever tell Man B that he, Man A, was the cause of the actions taken by me.
There was no quarter. Even if you experienced loss, if you weren’t in the circle, it wasn’t tolerated. I remember sitting in my supervisor’s office after getting a phone call that my grandfather would die in the next 24 hours and being told that if I was going to miss the meeting it wouldn’t be good for me. I remember blinking, trying to keep back my tears, for my grandpa, for the third loss in eight months I was about the experience, and for the hell that I knew was going to rain on me because I was going to miss that meeting. I would endure screaming from the devil himself to say goodbye to my grandfather.
Oh and in case you think I’m exaggerating when I use the word ‘screaming,’ there were multiple people who could hear the vitriol thrown at me through solid walls and closed doors. Being screamed at seemed like a weekly occurrence for me. I endured years of that before I left.
I say ‘left’ like it was my choice when it really wasn’t. I was pushed out. Pushed out in a demeaning and public manner. People in the inside circle knew about it before I did. There was a text message asking me about it on my phone before I was out of the meeting where the push happened. There were people who had been directed, before I knew, to check up on me. I found out later this was because they didn’t want me to hurt myself. A prosecutor had committed suicide after he lost his job, not one month before I was forced out. The prosecutor wasn’t from my office but it garnered media attention and was discussed throughout our profession. I honestly don’t believe those directing others to check on me were doing it out of the goodness of their hearts. As I said, media attention.
Worth it?
This is just a small taste of what I survived. And yet, I loved the job. The job meant the world to me. I felt like I was doing my part to right the ship of the unjust world we live in. Most of the time it felt as if I was bailing out water from a ship with a teaspoon. But there were those times where a child would cry in your arms because they felt safe, a teenager would connect with you before telling you things no person, let alone a child, should have to survive, or times when a mom would hug you so tight because you fought for justice for their dead son, or when a survivor of horrific domestic violence tells you they thank God for putting you in their lives when you realize that you’ll bail out the water with the teaspoon until your arm falls off.
I walked into that office every day with my teaspoon ready to do justice and I honestly believed, and still believe, it’s one of the best jobs in the world. But the job was surrounded by a cancer and it was dark and persistent. It devoured the strings that kept me attached to the office – not the job.
So I left.
Leaving a Job I Loved
On my last day I remember a sense of deja vu – I walked the halls looking at them as if they were new again, like I had on my first day. I wanted to remember everything. The picture that hung over the spare jackets for witnesses, the seal I looked at every morning with pride as I came in, the skylight that greeted me when I walked into the hallway; I wanted to remember everything, not because it was new and wonderous to me but because I was leaving this place that had become my second home in the past five years.
I was worried I was going to have regrets for things that I chose to do or not do but I didn’t. The only regrets I had were for the things I wouldn’t be able to see through: the trials I wouldn’t be able to try or the victims I was leaving in another’s hand. I went to my final happy hour farewell and was greeted by those colleagues who were actually good people. Those who had stood up for me and for others and paid the price for it. Judges who had expressed public support for me. Defense attorneys who had complained and railed against my public push out. Good police officers who knew that I wanted to seek justice.
Leaving a job I loved was sad and painful. I remember waking up without an alarm the next morning and going to brunch with a book while everyone I had just seen the day prior was at work and thinking ‘is this real?‘ I was scared, horrified, and embarrassed. I was horrified to realize that (the more I thought about it) I had just left an abusive relationship. I had worked in a toxic work environment. I was embarrassed because I didn’t realize it sooner. I was embarrassed I had not reacted sooner.
Leaving a Job YOU Love
Leaving a job you love will never be easy but if you have a good reason for leaving then you’re going to get through it. If a job is causing your physical health or mental health to deteriorate then it isn’t worth it. Staying just to “push through” wasn’t worth the recovery time.
There was so many things I learned when I left that job – about myself, about true friendship, about morals, about life, but the most important thing I learned, the thing that I wish every one knew, its that…
Your health is more important than a job.
Leaving a job you love is sometimes necessary. Your health: mental, physical, emotional, should take center stage in your life. If your job is causing your health to decline it’s not worth it. Plain and simple. I wish we taught college kids this. I wish young adults were told this rather than ‘put your nose to the grind stone.’
So I left a job I loved and yeah I looked back, I thought about what could have been if I stayed or what could have been if I left earlier but in the end I know without a doubt my overall health (mental & emotional & physical) has gotten better. I’m so thankful for that.
PS – I’m at a new office that I absolutely love. Every day I walk in with my teaspoon held high and ready.
