It's So Hard to Say Goodbye to Yesterday

One thing that I didn’t realize about changing jobs is the reluctance that I naturally have about change. Although I’m going to a new company for a very exciting new opportunity, I naturally have a feeling of loss and hesitation.

My clean desk. I left only the resources that were there when I came and the "No Gossip" warning for whoever follows me

The job I’m going into is a dream come true, but as I cleaned out my desk, I had a feeling of nostalgia. It was almost like moving out of an apartment. I’ve been at that desk for three years – longer than I’ve even lived in a place since I left my parents’ house for college 11 years ago. Besides taking down the pictures of my family there were the little personal touches that I had accumulated throughout my tenure in the meat locker/dungeon (seriously, you shouldn’t have to wear a sweater in July) of the R.H. Boyd publications department. There was the Christmas card from one of my coworkers that paid homage to my grizzly manliness because I passed a kidney stone at work with nothing to ease the pain but two ibuprofen, the likeness of me as a snowman from one of our Christmas door decorating contests from that same Christmas, and the coloring book gaffe that I posted a few weeks ago of Jesus playing Texas Hold ‘Em with Lazarus (see here).

It’s interesting how resistant to change we are. Even though this change is the best possible thing for me, I still have a sense loss. There are many things I will not miss about this job, but as I leave, I can only think of the things that I will miss – mainly, my team.

Everyone keeps asking how it feels to know that I am free of this place, but in the moment all I can feel is the nostalgia of the good times. Maybe there’s something in our nature that naturally gravitates towards pleasant memories. Who reviews their old yearbooks to see where classmates told them how tough their time was in high school? The title of this post is from a song by Boys II Men. It was the theme song for my middle school's eighth grade prom. Nothing to me exemplifies this than that statement. Middle school is the most awkward and difficult time in most kid's lives, but that one Saturday in May, my school brought down the lights after "Rump-Shaker" and "Whoop There It Is" for all the eighth graders to have a teary goodbye through the slow dancing that we learned from "Saved by the Bell."

I guess it comes down to human beings resist change, even when it's good. It's kind of like we'd rather stick with the devil we know than risk finding another devil somewhere else. Even if the devil we know makes us miserable.