Leaving the job doesn't have to mean leaving the work

It can take time to adjust when you leave a job you’ve deeply loved, and work serving communities of people and places you weren’t necessarily ready to move away from.

If you’re really lucky, it was just “time”. A new opportunity too good to pass up, or time to step back and do something different. But sometimes the timing or circumstances simply aren’t yours to choose. Which can land differently when it comes to how you process your leaving.

For people like me who have spent years alongside survivors, communities or people experiencing injustice, the work can become woven into your sense of purpose and, inevitably, a part of your professional (and personal) identity. I’m proud it’s soaked into my bones! But figuring out who I want to be when I grow up continues to challenge me at times.

We talk quite a lot about wellbeing for people doing challenging work. Supervision. Debriefing. Reflective practice. Managing exposure to trauma and distress. I’m not sure we talk enough about what happens afterwards and what supports people need. I say this not just based on my own experience (although of course some of it inevitably is) but in conversations I’ve had with trusted people over many years.

Because leaving the job doesn’t necessarily mean leaving the work behind, or the care. If the working definition of compassion fatigue is ‘the cost of caring’ what happens when your care is still sky high but the work has ended? It’s a pretty big dissonance to wrestle with sometimes. And the supports tend to disappear at exactly the same time as the structure, relationships and sense of usefulness that helped you carry the difficult bits disappear too.

I think there are more of us in this position than we acknowledge — witness bearers, practitioners, advocates, people with lived experience and leaders who now find ourselves outside work and communities that mattered enormously to us. And even if you were ok to go and ok with the timing, there are still things you carry and losses you grieve.

Perhaps there is something missing in our conversations about workforce wellbeing here. Not just how we support people to do difficult work, but how we support them when they stop doing it.

So, existential crisis aside, one thing I’ve been reminded of however of late is that leaving a role doesn’t require you to leave behind the things you cared about. You can still advocate. You can write. Speak. Mentor. Ask annoying questions (my specialty I’m often told, that and swearing haha). Support other people doing the work. Stay connected to the issues and communities that shaped you. You just have to find a different way to do it.

So here’s to finding a different way to walk beside. And continuing to ask annoying questions!! (With the odd bit of colourful language thrown in…..)