December 17, 2012
(Inside Address)
(Salutation),
After a careful and thoughtful consideration, I have come to a decision that is life-changing but timely. I am, therefore, giving my formal notice of resignation effective on the closing hours of Friday, January 4, 2013.
I would like to take this opportunity to thank you and ______ for your kind support and trust in my ability as I fulfilled the duties of my position. I also appreciate the opportunities you have given me to grow in the role and responsibilities that defined that position.
Likewise, I would like to extend my gratitude to all the staff of ________, especially those I closely worked with in my capacity as Staff Development Director. I would not have done the responsibilities of my job effectively without their valuable help and support.
It was a wonderful six- year stint that was both professionally and personally rewarding. I will always treasure the knowledge and experiences I gained during my employment here as well as the friendships I have developed.
May you continue to be the guiding force of this facility as it serves the needs of the mentally challenged in the community. You, and others like you, deserve the highest accolade for making psychiatric nursing your cause, your life’s mission.
Sincerely,
(Signature)
A swirl of mixed emotions raged through me that day but there was one that for the last few months had always prevailed and became the impetus for such a life-changing choice. So, stepping into this retirement milestone did not actually start with the above letter. It slowly built up and progressed to fever-pitch proportions with each passing day and brought on by various factors, professional and personal. Age is one of those, of course, not age per se, but the changes associated with it. I'm blessed with good health but there were days when getting up early to come to work was not easily welcome especially during those cold winter mornings when spending a few minutes more in a warm and cozy bed was a craved luxury. Working full time seemed a hindrance to a lot of things I wanted to do: visiting my children and grandchildren without thinking I had to go home after a couple of days because I needed to go to work, enjoying a stroll in the park unfazed by the thought that there were household chores that needed to be done because I couldn't do them during work days, sitting quietly reading an engrossing novel, supporting a civic or religious cause, traveling, writing, experimenting on a new-found recipe. Although I never allowed myself to be completely encumbered by a full-time employment in doing the things I put my mind into, there were limitations to time that hindered a full appreciation - and therefore, enjoyment - of the activity.
Professionally, I felt boredom, the beast that robbed creativity, slowly setting in. I was becoming a clock-watcher and my abhorrence to attending the meetings required for someone in my position was escalating. I had always prided in my work ethics, in doing a top-notch performance in whatever job responsibility I had and I didn't think I'd lost that. But the interest, that inner fire that always propelled me to do something over and beyond what was expected of me and which completely justified my "Exceeds Standard" evaluation year after year was slowly and methodically being extinguished from within and without. There was that classic but destructive way, I think, by which a good worker was being rewarded, or unjustifiably punished, if someone was taking the negative point of view. More and more work assignments, even those outside the work performance standards that defined my job, were being added to my duties as they were unloaded from those who were not completing those assignments. At first, I accepted them with equanimity tinged - if I must be honest about it - with a sense of pride, however tepid, for being given a task someone was unable to satisfactorily accomplish. Those were challenges I met head-on regardless of the time commitment they entailed. Some of them were simple, one-time tasks, but there were those that were permanently added to my already loaded plate of responsibilities. I was the go-to person, the give-it-to-Norma-she-knows-it hospital entity. I was feeling the strain and resentment was not too far behind.. There were perks to my position that nurses working in the hospital units did not have. Besides the good pay, I had my own office and the privacy it offered. I could work at my own hours although that flexibility I only took within reason and I still basically followed a fixed schedule. I loved my job, the opportunities built into it to teach the staff, prepare the materials and perform in-services and trainings, interact with various instructors and management of schools the hospital had clinical agreements with, perform regular audits to ensure regulatory standards were met, etc. But the daily pressure brought on by added assignments was wearing me down and my three-score and seven years body was starting to give me stress signals. Therefore, I decided it was time to enter a new phase in my continual desire to find self-fulfillment. I just received my annual evaluation a month prior that delineated my above- standard performance and, like a seasoned athlete, I wanted to leave at the top of my game. After a nursing career that spanned 3 decades both in the clinical and management areas, I couldn't leave a legacy less than exceptional.
After I submitted my resignation, the word traveled fast among the various hospital circles and I was inundated with "whys" and "who's gonna take your position" barrage of questions. I received a lot of emails and phone calls expressing regrets and good luck wishes from staff. A party was organized by a group of nurses that, due to the holidays, was held post my retirement date. They came with gifts and well-wishes and we had a wonderful dinner in one of the casino-hotels in town. On my last day at work, I went to say goodbye to the staff in the different units of the hospital and plenty of hugs were shared with people that became, not only work associates, but my friends during the last six years. It was sad and in some rare moments, I found myself questioning the sensibility of my decision. Was I fool-hardy to leave a good-paying job especially in the state of today's economy? Was it a well-thought decision? Would I miss the interaction with people, the opportunity to make a difference in the lives of those we serve? Wouldn't I get bored just staying home? But the pull to the benefits of being retired was stronger which easily dispelled my doubts, and like Caesar, I bravely cast the dice and crossed the Rubicon.
Friday, January 4, my last day. I finished packing the last personal items I still had and finalized tying some loose ends on the job I was endorsing to one of my staff since no one had been hired yet to replace me. There were a lot of people I would not be able to say goodbye, especially those working on other shifts, so I decided to compose the following email to send to everyone:
Dear ____________ Staff,
A famous quote that evoked a sentiment of regret was penned by the American poet, John Greenleaf Whittier, who said: “Of all the sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these, “It could have been.”” The time and season and circumstances of which those thoughts were written were far different from those I found myself today and so a little deviation from that classic sentiment was probably in order. With my apologies to the renowned poet, I’d like to say the saddest expression could be summed up in a single word: “Goodbye”.
Therefore, I will not say goodbye. It is cold, definitive, so hauntingly final. Yet, I will not pass up this opportunity to thank each and everyone of you for all the support and help you have given me as I discharged my responsibilities as Director of Staff Development during my six years of employment in this hospital. I know that during some future mindless hours, when the seconds tick by and I’m bored to tears, or in those quiet moments in the wee mornings in Spring when sleep departs without pity, that I will take a retrospective trip to the past. I will recall the voices and faces of all of you as you work with love and dedication to give the least of society the dignity and respect they need and crave but so often fail to receive. I will remember your smile through the challenges that you face every day, the caring that does not fail to show even during the most hectic moments when even taking a short break will be a well-deserved luxury. The soft sunshine or the merciless heat, the quiet whisper of the wind during a courtyard stroll, the sprint of determined steps when duty calls, the noise, the rush, the calm, the occasional silence, will remind me of every work day I used to spend with you. I will recall the kindness and cooperation you have given me as I come to you for something I need, your words of understanding when times are tough and I almost forcefully drag you to come to a training or an in-service. I will hear again in my thoughts your enthusiastic “Hi” seasoned with a warm smile as we pass each other by. Again, the tender feelings will return like the surge of waves before an undertow, and they will sustain me in the long days ahead.
Cling to the best in you; hold on to what you believe is right, and remember that appreciation, though not often verbally expressed is lurking beneath each look of unfeigned gratitude from every patient you have helped, from everyone you have discharged to their family or the community. Although most of them do not last and they return, some earlier than a fortnight, we cannot imagine that feeling of emancipation, that sense of being free, and you made it happen. Your work, your mission, your duty, are immensely important. You have set your heart and soul in helping those whose lives will be far worse without you and such task should give you a satisfaction far more compelling and fulfilling than things money can buy. You are the unsung heroes of mental health and you should carry that badge of honor with pride. May you understand your worth and know that it is something no one can take away. I want to say, “I will see you in the beaches of the world”, but when that fails, as dreams often do, I will look for your unnamed faces in the halls of heroes where good work, commitment, and dedication are still the yardstick for which greatness is measured. So long!
Seize the day,
(Signature)
Darkness had fallen at 5:30 that winter evening when I closed for the final time the door to my office. I took a last look at everything it contained, glanced at its four walls that became my sanctuary and honest witnesses to the nuances of my daily tasks, the silent ears to every verbal communication I conducted within their confines, and I wondered if the Book of Life would confirm the personal assessment I had pronounced on my performance. I most sincerely hoped so. I traversed the short hallway leading to the back door, swiped my badge for the last time and walked out. As I heard the "clang" of the closing door, I walked forward with my head high and listened to the faint, undefined sounds of the coming night. There was peace in their quiet; there was a beckoning calm that urged me to move forward and claim the future pregnant with hope. And I smiled, trusting in the unspoken promise. Silently, I whispered to the unseen past, "So long"! But I know it's goodbye.
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