Friday, January 31, 2014


A couple of weeks ago, I got my tax forms from my old job.

Part of my brain did cartwheels, because -- this was awesome. Because my previous employer was notoriously unreliable.  Because I had been concerned that I wouldn't get my tax information on time -- despite the laws that govern such things -- as this wouldn't be the first time this employer had delayed sending everything.

So. Part of my brain? Overjoyed.

Another part if my brain sighed with relief, thinking, now we are done with this company. If I had craved closure? Now I had it. We were quits. Through. Caput. Over. I held in my hand the documents that proved that our relationship was over.

And finally, there was sorrow. 

The sorrow threw me a little bit. I was -- and am -- happy at my new job. I love the people I work with and what I do. 

And yet.

From 2007 to 2013 I busted my ass trying to make my previous company successful. I lived it. I breathed it. I babied it. I was on call 24/7. I developed policies and training and testing. I didn't own the company, but I acted like I did through transitions in actual ownership and market shifts and every other up and down we experienced. 

And I loved it. 

Even when I knew it was time for me to go, I loved it. I loved it and I loved the people who worked for me as though they were family. Hell, some of them WERE (hi, mom!) and some of them? Well, I made them family (hi, Curtis and Tess!).

I hate the term "closure" but receiving my tax forms closed a door. I was done. It was over. And at the end of the day, I needed it to be over. I so needed it to be over. 

But it's hard to let go of something that you poured yourself into, despite how unhealthy that might have been.

I have closure now. I'm done. Someday soon, I might even know how I feel about it.

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