The Lightsaber Burn: Healing from a Career Layoff After 30 Years

It stung. Like a Light saber waxing.

In my 30-year career, my longest job was my last one; I was there for seven and a half years. I have been gone for a year about a year. So today I wanted to reflect on it.

The last Death Star made up exactly one-quarter of my entire working life, and it outlasted my next longest role by two full years. I like to think it was not part of my identity, but after that length of time, it was deeply ingrained as a core part of who I was. Being the boss who rose through the ranks gives you a certain pride. I had ownership of my department in some weird way. It wasn’t the companies, it was mine.

I often look back on my career and view leaving a company like attending a funeral. It is the last time you will see many of these people. In a long-held role, you aren’t just colleagues; you are witnesses to each other’s lives. It is the last time you will inhabit a space that has become comfortable. There is real grief involved, even if it is your choice to leave. For all intents and purposes it is your 2nd home.

It feels like a part of you that is now dead. It is like a life-ending heart attack; it ends suddenly in most cases. It is a sad day anyway you look at it. It is an ending.

I took the red stapler

A year after being fired, there are still some pain points when I think about it. I was not surprised I was laid off, as I knew there was a decent chance it would happen, but I was still shocked. Even when you are “actively looking” and know the layoff is coming, being the one told to leave feels like a rejection. It is that competitive instinct, the desire to be the one who closes the door, rather than the one shown it.

When I look back at the last Death Star, and most other Death Stars I have worked at, I realize I am not really missing the job. For a while now, I haven’t been thrilled with what I do; each role eventually feels the same. What I am missing are the people. I am missing the good times as the bad times all eventually fade into the background. When you leave a company, the people who have been part of your day-to-day existence simply go away. Some people are important to you and some are very casual, but it is a community of people you really won’t see anymore.

But Vader, are you better off leaving your last Death Star?

There are likely two sides to that answer. You’re surprised I know.

The easy side is that I miss it because of the people. I knew a hundred or so individuals, some quite closely. My new Death Star is mainly remote, and I have purposely not developed deep relationships there. Consequently, the old Death Star provided better social connections, including some close friends I still see every so often. The current Death Star is just work.

The other side of the coin is that I am better off in my career. My last few months at the old job were painful. Ever since the latest Emperor arrived about a year before my departure, the place had lost its mojo due to a lack of work. It was flailing. He didn’t help. He was a corporate puppet in so many ways. My department was a necessary evil in his eyes with no value.

how I felt about the Emperor who laid me off

I was already actively looking for a new job and was in discussions with my current company. So, from a “good for Vader” job perspective, my current role is a much better fit. The severance was a bonus that advanced my retirement finish line by six months.

But one year later, I am still in a grey zone. It is not all sunshine and Light Side. And that has more to do with my stage of life. I’ve successfully moved from “The Career,” where I held a strong identity, to “The Bridge,” where the job is simply the utility to reach the next shore called retirement.

I knew coming here the rest of my career arc was not long. One door closed in my life one year ago. It was like I was letting go of my 30-year-long career as that role was the last one that was important to me .

I don’t have the fire in my belly anymore. I had not really put an end date on that old job because I had been in it so long, but I knew this new job was a one-to-two-year affair. Basically a transition to retirement for me.

This year has made me more prepared for what comes next. My headspace is in a better spot. I am more focused on life outside of work than I have likely been in the last 15 to 20 years. I am starting to focus more on “me.” I am starting to break the inertia of just living by default.

Work is less important to me. It was always a big part of who I was, but that has been fading fast. It is leaving a hole that I have not filled yet which is likely what is causing my anxiety about leaving this job.

The empty space where my work-identity used to sit is uncomfortable, but it’s also necessary. Nature abhors a vacuum, but in a life transition, you often have to sit in that emptiness for a while before you know what you actually want to fill it with.

I will figure that out somehow.

So, one year later, I cannot say I am glad I was laid off. There is still some sting to it. It’s the emotional thought of almost losing somehow, like it’s a game. A shot to the pride. But I am better for it. I am content one year later.

One year ago, I would not have said that.