Two things in less than 24 hours flowed into my e-mail inbox that reinforce my well-understood self truth that I have a problem letting things (or people) go. I find it such a joy when I find a person or a place that makes me feel comfortable, and I have always been very unwilling to walk away from that. Almost everyone I’ve ever dated (seriously, anyway) I still count as a friend… and the fact that one person most notably doesn’t fall into that category bothers me greatly, even though the reasons were extremely hurtful and it happened 10 years ago.
The more recent “I cannot let go” incidences are far more recent, and so they sting with newness and particular bitterness.
I really struggled last night, when the more recent of the two arrived, about how to share this with y’all, my faithful blog readers (and others), because many of you have been following the saga of my job — and subsequent resignation — at TWU. But honestly, there’s nothing I can say about the decision made yesterday that would cast me in a good light… in the sense that I don’t think I’m capable of describing what happened without descending into mother-offensive use of the “F” word and anything but utter anger.
For that reason, I’m going to restrict myself to sharing with you all the e-mail I got late last night from my favorite person/cheerleader from this job, whom I wrote last night asking for words that could help me move on. Here is what she wrote back:
Good people frequently feel responsible for bad change that is almost always not their fault. I’m serious, friend. This is well documented in the human behavior field. The person who loses a job, and even sees the machine that replaced him, nevertheless feels a personal responsibility and even self-blame. He may not say the explicit If only I had made the Mason jars faster…, but that floats around the mind, anyway. The big picture is that the JiffyMasonJarMaker was expertly marketed and economic and employment trends made lay-offs unaviodable in that 60-year cycle. (I like to cite the Kondratiev Cycle. Sends students straight to the library.)
You, my dear, are not the cause of the TWU rubber band retraction. I won’t say shrug it off because good people rarely can. But I do recommend a lightening of the heart. You did a fabulous job of bringing TWU’s website out of the dark ages. You did the impossible of bringing folks on board when they really wanted to jump ship. And you did it all with elan.
But the rubber band was poised for the backward motion. It could have snapped back faster and harder. Instead, it’s snapping to a different shape. Do I defend it? Nope. I wish it were not so. But I am certain that your leave-taking is not the cause. And even more certain that your coming in the first place moved us to a place we never would have reached without you. You were crucial in moving us forward — you are not crucial in the backward retraction. The snap back was going to happen. Your impact is that some things took hold and will continue to influence.
Find that philosophical stance of satisfaction with having influenced a system, and acceptance that influence cannot assure control. It’s not quite a shrug that is needed. It’s more of a nod. And I hope it can eventually be made with a smile.
A Kondratiev cycle is a little long for TWU communication purposes. After all, we’re floundering about with methods but the public web is only a little more than a decade old. If we took the long view of a generation, well, then, this adjustment is likely to represent just a wrinkle. Long view. Ah, yes, that would be longer than your life. But you get the idea. You moved us far ahead, and this move creates a dip, and within a couple of years another change will propel us forward again. Our gain from your work will be greater than any temporary loss now.
I’m glad you are consuming your program. Read, read, read!
And Turtle Bay is beautiful. That’s your focus.
Your fan.