Experiencing loss at work

It has been a challenging eighteen months at my place of work.

A co-worker quietly stepped into my office in August of last year, shut the door and announced to me that there have been ten changes on the leadership team in the last year and a half. Ten. Whether by choice or no choice at all people have moved on. Together the two of us ticked off on our fingers the names of the people that are no longer sharing the same working roof as us.  It has been hard, but more than that it has been sad. So much of work has to do with two things – meaningful work and meaningful relationships.

For several years we had an annual survey we completed that always asked, “Do you have friends at work?” I checked, “No” for a long time then I noticed one year my “no” became a “yes.” What a delightful shift that was for me – to look forward each day to being with the people with whom I worked. “Yes.” But then, the tsunami of change began and many of the people I looked forward to seeing each day were no longer there or were making plans to leave – finding new jobs, moving up their retirement dates, or going on hiatus. I felt as if a stranger kept creeping in looking for treasures and every time they looked they found one more rare jewel and stole it away. It felt like we were being invaded by an unseen force. It was painful. Honestly. Why? But I know that’s a question that I will never really know the answer to. I can only speculate. The better question is of course – How? How can I go on?

Most of the vacant positions have been filled or will be filled with time and there is much to love about each of these new hires as well. I am slowly getting to know each individual, learning the intricacies of working with them, discovering the unique qualities they each offer and developing an understanding of the lens through which they approach their work. But that doesn’t negate the great sense of loss I feel for those who are no longer there. I am grieving. Even though I have curiosity and a desire to connect with the new arrivals, I have an equally strong desire to be honest about the significance of this period of loss for me personally.

Building a strong team

About seventeen months ago, there was a point in which I felt the strongest connection to my peers that I have experienced in my nine years with the organization. We had devoted several months of working with a coach to strengthening our ability to work together, identifying what unique gifts each of us brought to the experience and recognizing what each of us needed to invest to make an effective team. Through instruments such as the DiSC, small group discussion, conflict management and group theory we gained insights that began to knit us together. Tiny seeds of  understanding, connection, commitment, and passion had begun to sprout. We were coming to life! Were we perfect? No, of course not. But there was a zest present that was compelling to many of us. Our Wednesday morning leadership meetings were often punctuated by laughter, transparency and an eagerness to tackle new issues. The sheer candor of “this might not work” followed by “yes, but let’s give it a try” was a release and a welcome challenge. In the early morning hours of each week day I found myself pulling on my slacks, slipping into my shoes, tossing on a blouse, breezing through breakfast, excited and eager to see what would unfold in the hours before me. It was rich. Like a magnetic force I felt pulled to be at work to not only complete my routine tasks, but to problem solve, collaborate and dream dreams with my peers.

Pondering the future

But that was then. Of course, when people you love leave you find yourself wondering if you should leave too. And if not leave, then what should you do? At least that’s what I wondered. I registered with Glassdoor and Indeed. I sorted through my 403b and thought about early retirement. I pondered teaching positions, pastoring, chaplain roles, association leadership, educational administration and similar roles with other organizations. I updated my resume and my LinkedIn profile. I wrestled with what’s next. I wondered if I’m crazy to still be working where I am working. And I felt guilty still being where I am when people I believed added so much value lost their jobs. 

What I have discovered for myself is the answer is not a one size fits all proposition. There is no singular right answer. There is, however, freedom and responsibility. In my case I believe part of being responsible, part of being mature is being able to simply hang in there in the chaos. Hang in there. It’s not as simple as it sounds, though. Each day from the moment I enter the side door of the building from the administrative parking lot I am aware that not only are the people different, but the energy, the priorities, and the manner in which issues are addressed has changed. There’s no longer a daily informal check-in with leaders to discern key issues, problem solve or assess the tone and temperament of the work force. The well honed question of “how are things?” is no longer at the forefront along with the invaluable collaborative question of “what are your ideas here?” The environment is different – not bad, just different. Hence, for me the focus has shifted – the task now at hand has been discovering how to experience joy in the midst of these changes. How do I show up with the same sense of connection and commitment I possessed only eighteen months ago? Oddly enough that joy has come from walking.

Walking

In the summer of 2021 I began to walk as a way of building ankle strength after a hard fall in May of 2020 down my front porch steps at four one rainy morning taking our covid puppy out for a bathroom break. The results of the fall were two significant fractures to my tibia and fibula on my right ankle. I needed something more inspiring than simply walking up and down the lovely wooded street in my neighborhood. I began to plan walks in local parks each weekend. Something just right for me. It was an adventure and it was inspiring. Little did I know then that this simple practice  would become pivotal for my emotional well-being. When all of the chaos began at work of people’s lives being upended I kept walking. What I found over time is these weekly adventures became the inspiration I needed to awaken each morning and get dressed. I began to think about what park or path I wanted to explore the next day – Innsbrook? Tuckahoe Creek? Three Lakes? Tucker Park? Or maybe just my own backyard? Slowly my mental space was less concerned about operations and more focused on counting steps and observing the difference between a long leaf and a short leaf pine. The beauty and story of each setting in which I walked captivated my mind.  As I walked I took pictures, read print and online guides for each destination, and journaled. The same anticipation that used to lure me to the office now pulled me to the Buttermilk Trail and Pony Pasture. I woke up with the same sense of eagerness to get ready and get going, only this time it was walking instead of working. I couldn’t wait to see the heron at Echo Lake, or watch the early morning sun dance on the James River from the trail at Tucker Park. I was mesmerized by the feeling of being  transported to the marsh and creeks of the Tidewater area by simply stepping on the boardwalk of the Tuckahoe Creek Trail. Step by step I collected experiences and stories as I explored Hollywood Cemetery, Cold Harbor Battlefield, the Vita Trail and Robious Landing.

One crisp fall morning I visited a small park tucked in a neighborhood. The trails were covered with leaves ablaze with the colors of fall, a footbridge went across a creek and the sweet gurgle of the water was such a comfort. I have fallen in love with the scent and sound of leaves crushing under foot, the sight of a wide open trail through a grassland, the whisper of the wind on my neck on a hot summer day, the awe of being on a trail in the early morning hours as the sun makes its way into the sky. Such a gift, such a balm, such a joy.

One Saturday morning I was nearing the end of a trail I had found unexpectedly arduous. The guidebook had said, “easy.” But what I found was challenging – narrow paths with bulging roots, steep stone steps and unexpected detours due to areas that had been washed out. And yet just as my walk was nearing completion a white haired couple in their early 80s were beginning theirs. They looked well prepared with walking sticks, fanny packs, and sturdy shoes. And it seemed as if this trail was simply part of their daily walking routine. “What do they know that I don’t know?” I wondered. About ten minutes later I caught another glimpse of these octogenarians through the trees – chatting, ambling along, enjoying the company of one another. I knew then I would return and give this challenge another chance – entering from a different trailhead and experiencing the walk from their vantage point. I find that one’s perspective shifts a great deal when walking.

Another morning I decided to go right on a trail in which I had always gone left. It was a short sojourn – about 15 minutes, but in those 15 minutes I became aware that although I had walked this trail countless times on this day everything looked different, fresh, new. Simply because I was approaching the trees, shelter, and path from a new direction. 

Solvitur ambulando

What a wonder walking was and is. St. Augustine is attributed with saying, “Solvitur ambulando,” meaning it is solved by walking. What better way to sort through concerns of heart, soul and mind then by simply moving about. With movement comes meaning. As I experienced my ankle getting stronger that same strength enveloped my soul. Step by step it became clearer that although there was not anything I could do to reverse the trauma from work I could take care of myself. I could live my life with courage and grace and gratitude. I could keep showing up and continue to develop relationships with the people who remained. And I could begin to build relationships with those who are new. I could be my very best self.  

Has it been easy? No. I miss my coworkers a great deal – Ellen’s Mad Hatter costume at Halloween combined with her humorous perspective about everyone and everything, Daniel’s sharp tongue, knowledge of history, passion for the work of his team and his watchful eye, Peter’s vision about how the property could be updated and transformed into a desirable destination combined with his unique approach to operations, Hazel’s willingness to attend meetings and learn not only how things had been but what was lacking in hopes of making things better,  Mitch’s energy, generosity and innovative eye to the future, and Anna’s brilliant insight – always delivered in a hushed tone, always on point. I miss them. But life does happen to all of us in some way. And our ability to keep walking in the midst of difficulty will be the measure of our resilience. And so, while I continue to honor the losses I have experienced I continue to walk and enjoy the bounty of gifts present each day and the healing that continues to take place. This journey of change has strengthened me for the journey of life. And for that I am grateful.