I don’t know if I should be surprised that it took only three weeks from the day I was fired from my last job in early February to the day when I accepted a commensurate role at a different nonprofit organization.
And truthfully, it was mere days after (the Wednesday after?) that I was in discussions with my next employer about how I could be an asset to their advancement team.
I’ll be honest, it feels a little like cheating, or that I didn’t make the job search “hard enough” on myself — I’ll be going back to an organization where I worked for over a decade and truly cut my teeth on fundraising.
But, the leadership team wanted me back.
They sought me out.
They said, “This is our opportunity to invite her back.”
So they did. And I accepted.
Not only because returning somehow feels like a homecoming, or that the benefits and pay can’t be beat. Or even that I’ll already be collecting a paycheck again by the end of the month.
But also because they know my value — a reminder I desperately need after being cast aside mindlessly like a piece of trash by my former employer.
I know it will be a different experience. I know we’re going into a convention year. I know the air is fraught with political in-fighting and anxiety. I know! I know!
None of this is lost on me.
What people may not realize is that I’m different now, too. I’ve accomplished so much and learned a lot about myself in these three years. Perhaps I will be as unrecognizable as whatever environment I walk into.
And I’ll have work to do myself.
There will be burnt bridges that need rebuilding. Boundaries and parameters that will need to be reset and readjusted — while continuing to manage the grief within me.
I’m also going back to a place where not only is my work and influence valued, but also my pragmatism won’t be interpreted as personal attacks. Where my job isn’t in on the line any time I ask a difficult question. Where I can safely confide in the people I report to. Where I’m seen as an asset, not a liability.
If nothing else, it’s a testament to God’s faithfulness.
Do I think my last employer will ever realize the gravity of their rash decision to fire me? Part of me thinks they will (if they haven’t already).
And maybe they’ll never lose sleep over it.
Maybe they’ll never wring their hands over it and play “shoulda-coulda-woulda.”
Maybe they’ll feel justified about the decision forever and never once regret it.
It sucks to admit, but ultimately it’s not for me to know. Or wring my own hands over it.
What I do know is that the only way for me is forward.
musings of an everywoman 