Released: Reflections on Letting Go

Released

Last Thursday hit me harder than I ever expected. I was laid off, and not in the way where you get a heads-up and two weeks to find something new. No, it was the kind where they say, we just can't afford to keep you anymore. No notice, no warning. Just gone. After spending two and a half years growing with the company, both as a person and an employee, I was let go.

I was heartbroken, devastated. My coworker, who had become a close friend, and I spent Thursday in tears. It felt like the ground had been ripped out from under me, and with it, all the security and comfort I'd felt in that space.

Friday came, and I still hadn't heard from my boss. In fact, she hadn't even told me about my layoff; that task was left to my coworker. I planned to push through the day, get to the end of it, but it was too much. When I sent my boss a thank-you email—expressing my gratitude for the opportunity and explaining that I had to leave early—she finally responded with a text: Call me.

I couldn't believe it. After everything, I had to call her? But I dialed, and when she picked up, she was sobbing. She apologized profusely, saying how sorry she was for hurting me. In that moment, something clicked. As much as I'd loved parts of the job, I realized just how glad I was to be leaving.

What no one knew was the rocky road leading up to this. The day before I was hired, she had told me I'd be trained to take over one of the stores and lead an install team. It sounded promising, exciting. But months passed, and I barely touched the 2020 design software I was supposed to master. Whenever I did, it was under her watchful eye, but she never gave me feedback, never let me learn from mistakes.

A coworker once warned me, "If you want to succeed, you'll have to learn most of this on your own. She's not much of a teacher." And she was right.

A full year went by, and while I did contribute to a big hospital project, designing rooms for the family birthing suites, the work felt empty. The excitement of designing faded into endless tracking of materials and handling frustrated client calls. My boss would promise estimates "tomorrow," but I quickly learned that tomorrow never came.

Transparency meant everything to me, but to her, it was a foreign concept. She would ignore clients she didn't want to deal with, leaving me to clean up the mess. I'd try to help by sending priority lists or offering my support, but she'd brush me off. She exaggerated, over-shared personal issues, and was passive-aggressive without reason.

I often thought about leaving. Yet, every time something bad happened, something good seemed to follow, keeping me tied to the job. First, a small raise, then another. I began to convince myself that I could deal with the chaos if it meant financial stability.

Things were looking up for a while—Adam and I got engaged, work seemed stable, and the atmosphere in the office improved. But the good times never lasted. She snapped over small things, accusing me of ignoring her because I wore headphones, even when I wasn't wearing any. When I asked her to repeat herself, she exploded. That day, I fled to the post office just to breathe.

She didn't apologize. Instead, she gave me $200 from the store's petty cash fund, as if that could fix things. Then came another raise. It felt like a pattern: I'd get pushed to the edge, and she'd throw me a bone to keep me from walking out the door.

Even when she was diagnosed with leukemia, I stayed. I felt a sense of loyalty, maybe even gratitude, because despite the dysfunction, I had grown in my career. But when the layoff came, I saw it for what it was: a relief. A release from the toxicity.

I spent months convincing myself I wouldn't be let go, that I was too valuable, that I mattered. But in the end, I was just another employee cast aside when things got tough. And yet, sitting with my soon-to-be family that Saturday, I felt peace. I realized I didn't leave on my own because I had needed this push.

Now, I'm free. Free from the chaos, the guilt, the weight of trying to fix things that were never mine to fix. I'm free to find a new path, a new career, and to live on my own terms. And that feeling, that freedom? It's worth more than anything she could have ever given me.

Here's to the next journey, with my amazing fiancé by my side.

Chaos has been calmed.