A pause before a new start -- farewell to Petfinder

I was walking with Molly-the-dog just now, and the sky dropped me the gifts in the photo above. I think there's something symbolic about them...something that flies, and something that grows in the ground. And this is why.

I have not shared this here, but after 15 years of living my dream job, I have left Petfinder. Petfinder has made a long journey, from "LLC" to part of Discovery Communication, to part of the Purina family. When a company grows, it changes. And while it can be good for the company, and for associates for who thrive on that change and growth, it does mean that individual roles change. I was hired at Petfinder as a shelter support person, a mediator, a speaker, and a writer. I had team members who had the same job expectations, but each with a different emphasis. In a pinch, we could cover for one another, and we had insight into each other's roles. It's that mesh of different roles personally, and that awareness of my entire team's work, that I really love. That's less possible at a global company, where roles, by necessity, must be more individualized. Petfinder is doing new and amazing things, but at heart I'm just a cat lady and a critter-wrangler who helps people. I need that hands-on interaction, helping people.

Because I've hit the magic "55 yoa plus" I had an opportunity to "retire." This opportunity offered me a bit of breathing room to find a new job, I hope, back in the not-for-profit world. Stupid idea financially? Absolutely. Best idea ever, personally? Yup! I hope to take all those wonderful things I learned over the past 15 years and be able to use those skills a little closer to the ground. I certainly won't make as much income. But when you are offered an opportunity to remake yourself, it's worth serious consideration.

I considered...and jumped.

The hardest part was leaving six particular people, two of whom have been part of my daily life and work for fifteen years. Those two were with Petfinder far longer than I. "Remote" is absolutely the wrong word for working from home and the field versus an office. If you are truly an embedded "remote" person, you are always connected to your team. There is always IM, phone, and everything you see brought to amazing life online as the result of what you've done. When I dragged my Slack icon into the recycling bin and purposefully cut my connection with them...well, that's when I cried. I've been in touch with those six people, potentially, every hour of every day. There is no office door to close when you are part of truly great remote team.

It has been less that 48 hours since I closed the lid on my work laptop. The sense of relief has been overwhelming, at suddenly being able to concentrate just on my home, my family, my friends, my cats.

I scrubbed my shower for the first time in at least half a year.

When I replaced the garbage can liner, I took the can out and washed it.

I was able to say "Yes," to a short-notice request for lunch with my sister even though we live two hours from one another.

I mowed my lawn without panic, knowing I had time enough to get it done.

I put my roller bag luggage in the upstairs closet, for the first time in over a decade.

I took my dog for a walk with a sense of enjoyment, not requirement.

I sat on the floor with the foster kittens, and let them climb all over me, knowing that I could sit there as long as I liked.

I erased all the work projects off my white board, and replaced them with home, friends, and family projects.

And of course, I wrote this blog post. Without have to squeeze it in out of guilt that I had not posted in far too long a while.

It suddenly occurs to me that there are people who read this blog (or an earlier version of it) long before I even took the job with Petfinder in 2004. That thought reminds me that there is life before, and after, this amazing journey I've been on.

I realize this is just a short break before I have to find a way back to the income-bearing world. And I know no job is perfect--far from it.

But you only get one life. I probably have 15 years left to me that I can count on (I hope) to be able to make a difference for others, before I'll need to count on others to be there to make a difference for me. And I want to make those 15 years count.