Working is more difficult today than it ever has been in the past. I had an offer made on Friday, but what does that mean? I accepted, now what? They are reviewing me, do I have a non-compete? What does that even mean? Does that mean that it’s not real until I see the offer letter glistening in my email? I suppose the answer is yes. So of course I log in. More work is dumped on, new people to manage, the team is growing, the direction less and less clear. Do I even care anymore? Can I leave yet? No. So I sit here and attend my meetings with new eyes. Realizing when people speak to hear themselves, their accomplishments. See the gleam in the eye of a new employee. How badly I want that to be me again. Have a 1:1 with one of my amazing team members, I think of how much I will miss them. The one good thing I’ll leave behind, the team I built. The relationships created.
I’ve been a manager for 5 years, a little over two spent leading operational teams, and a little under three leading sales. I love building relationships with people, watching them grow, helping them when they need it. Again, two years ago for the first time in my life, I became desperately ill. I needed to take a leave from work but I was so sick I didn’t even know that’s what I needed. I’ll never forget my boss calling me and screaming at me to get back online. Get my team to dial more. I could barely sit up. They are still my boss now, and I’d like to think we have a good relationship now, I’ve let bygones be bygones and I’ve learned a lot in the year and change since I’ve been back in this role. When I returned I made it a point to not take one day off for almost a year. This was very well received as you could imagine.
I started back working in March of 2021, and there was an employee on my team who was the first person to reach out to me. They didn’t want anything, they didn’t talk about themselves, they just wanted to call. Check in. See how I’d been. And at the time I didn’t know what to make of it, what no one knew was at the time I returned to work I was so depressed I had become suicidal. For the first time in my life I had experienced what it felt like to no longer want to live, to have dreams of death. And their reaching out just to check in brought me to tears without them even knowing.
In July of 2021 that same employee called me frantic. We had built a good relationship at this point, manager to employee, and had bonded over the love of our children – both becoming parents at a very young age. We kept going for them. We also bonded through music and they got in the habit of sending me songs on Fridays that would unknowingly make my day brighter, make me smile. I don’t think they realized how much those little things impacted me. How much those moments of compassion meant as I walked through my darkness. So as they called me frantic, said they needed to go to the doctor, something was wrong. They were in a lot of pain, couldn’t even stand up straight. I said of course, obviously, whatever you need please tell me. I’m here. You’re going to be ok.
As it turns out they were diagnosed with stage four adrenal cancer. Sarcoma I believe it’s called. I remember the day they called me crying, letting me know it didnt look good, almost as if they had failed some sort of test. 6 months to live. I cried with them.
I remember the songs started to change. The songs they would send to me. Filled with pain. Hope. Loss. Love. Loneliness. Strength. I even opened up enough to send them one of the most vulnerable songs of mine. They sent back a beautiful version played with only a piano they found for me to listen to. Over the course of the next 10 months they would call me anytime there was an update. A little win. A little setback. Just to check in. One day I told them to treat themselves and then two days later they called to tell me they got on a plane and traveled across the country and were staying in a mansion air bnb they found for three days. I laughed so hard at that. I admired that’s how they took it. How much they loved life. And wanted to live it.
The calls started getting less frequent in March. I checked in. Always. They thanked me, and during this time expressed how lonely it felt to die. How surprised they were that so many people left their side. I suppose a part of me understood even though I wasn’t given this diagnosis I also had something happen that scared people. Made them leave. Made them not want to reach out to me. I never told them that I knew on some level how they felt, but I hope they knew that no matter what I was always going to be there. To check in. That they always had a friend.
Sometime in April they called to let me know they were in hospice. The life was leaving their voice. This hurt my soul because their voice was so full of life. It made me happy to just hear it, now it was slowly fading away. A week later they passed away. I wrote a poem in their honor, and I looked back through our messages. I had a whole playlist of songs to create. Ones they sent to me. Somehow all more meaningful now than the first time I listened to them.
That was just over two months ago that they left. Gone. Just a memory now. The new members of the team now joining will never know who they were, and there is something about it that I just can’t move past. That I had this whole relationship with someone on the team, an employee, and now everyone just moves on like nothing happened. Maybe this was my sign it was time to leave management.
So, today it’s hard to work. I’m ready to be an individual again. To focus on myself, my own production. I’m ready to leave this career in the past, maybe take a break. I’m ready to move forward. Please let them move fast.
The Girl Without A Face 