Grieving - for a Job

Yesterday, I left a job that I have had for 26 years. I left it because it was a toxic work environment where I was used and assigned all sorts of things that I was not interested in. I did not get a pay increase for eight years. They decided to accept my resignation rather than give me the $157 annual increase that I asked for. So, I am no longer working at the church where I have been since 1998.

There is a strange type of grief that happens when you leave a job that is similar to losing a person from your life but not exactly the same. I am crying about not being wanted by this community anymore, but I am also so happy about being out of the toxicity that surrounded my job. I spent most of the last year resenting a role imposed upon me that changed every week, often 4 minutes before the start of one of my roles without notice. I was also not given an evaluation, pay increase, or direction for eight years. I asked for a change in my responsibilities to make them more appropriate for the job I was hired to do. I also asked for a 3% pay increase. I was denied, even though that pay increase added up to about $157 per year more than what I was making in May.

While I am still in the grief process of this situation, I know that I will persevere and enjoy my time away from this community very soon. For now, though, I am grieving, and I am hurt.

I am someone who tries my best to excel at just about everything that I do. My self-esteem has taken a hit when I realize that they would rather go without my presence than cough up a little bit of money to keep me, but that's what it is. My rational brain knows that I am better off away from this situation, but my emotional mind is awash with hurt.

Tonight, I get to come home. I don't have to go anywhere else, and I can get the trash cans out at a decent hour from now on. I do not have to go anywhere on Sundays from now on, and my Wednesday evenings are my own as well. I do not have to teach Sunday School (the thing that I wanted removed from my job description). I can go to early movies on Sundays now without having to figure out whether I can make it there on time. I no longer have to kiss up to someone who I do not want to work for anymore.

Will I miss the money? A bit, but I don't need that job anymore. It was more of a habit than a need these days. 

The one thing I know about all of this?

I will persevere.