I remember in High School when I first heard David Bowie sing "Changes." I would be embarrassed to write down the lyrics since I am sure that I'd botch them, but the song is an apt one for me. Almost three weeks ago my professional world turned upside down in a feverish pitch, and my head is still reeling.
I helped open a non-profit 4 years and 5 months ago, when a friend of a friend asked me to be the therapist there. After many hours of planning, asking for money, negotiating and so forth, I, along with a very dear and trusted Social Worker friend, opened it up. The first year was very difficult and came with lost sleep, anxiety, therapy and many shouts of "We're the Titanic and we are going down (if we didn't raise more money)!" We weathered the first year, hired another delightful therapist (and now trusted friend and kind-of-daughter-figure) and an Executive Director. We plugged along, began to grow and then seemed to be on some sort of Terra Firma. As often is the case with new folks, there was some conflict with me and the ED, and it would wax and wane over the first year and then it came to a head during a very difficult time in our city. I tried for the next couple of years to live with this tension, and learned how to keep my head down and shut up--no small feat for me if you know me.
What I learned over time is that some people know their strengthts and limitations, and some do not. While I don't pretend to know myself fully, or to be totally honest with myself, I think for the most part I know what I can and cannot do. That, I believe, was not the case with the ED. While I tried hard not to cross over to his side of the line, he jumped, pushed and plowed through mine. And so a few weeks ago I asked for a meeting with the ED, chairman of the Board of Directors and the founding person and learned in about 15 minutes flat that somehow I had been written out of the history of the organization and that my value was, well, less than valuable. The following day the line-crosser sat in my meeting and pushed and pulled his way into my territory, and 4 hours later I handed him my resignation letter.
To my astonishment, they all seemed surprised. Really. And what blew me away almost even more was how when my friend (who opened the doors with me) quit less than 24 hours later, they still seemed to be unable to connect the dots. I think the ED got it, but the others didn't. Oh well.
The next hardest day came after Thanksgiving when I had to tell my staff. They are the greatest bunch of folks ever, and it pained me to tell them I was leaving. All of them being therapists knew that there was more to the story than "I am leaving for both personal and professional reasons" but kept their questions quiet (at least with me) and offered encouragement, tears and support. Three of my staff burst into tears (two on the phone since they had to miss the meeting) and it broke my heart. My earnest prayer is that they all flourish within the organization, or flourish outside of it if need be. I go back and forth with whether I hope it succeeds post-me. The biggest part of me hopes it does (and it's the bigger part of me) since it offers services to so many folks in need and as I said, the therapists there are second to none. The smallest (read how you want--unfortunately I can be small) part of me wants it to fail, not because of bitterness (well, maybe somewhat but still just a tiny bit, I think) but because of missed opportunities and quasi bad management and the inability to see what one is able to do and what one needs help doing. But because I truly love all of those people I hope is shines, I honestly do. But me, I'm gone.
So my friend and I are going into private practice and we are talking about all of the logistics. I am typing on my new MacBook and looking at furniture and locations. Am I scared? Absolutely. I am also exhilarated and trusting that God will take care of me, again, like he always has. I am ready. I am excited and hopeful. I am embracing the ch ch ch ch changes.
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