Last year I told you I would no longer be there.
The road we traveled together was reaching a dead end.
I knew you were worried. You hated the details.
But you’re brave, you recruited help.
I’m getting more excited as the end approaches.
I just want to move on to the next chapter.
It’s time to wrap it up.
File the taxes, get the paperwork in order.
Since this is the end, the “i’s” need to be dotted and the “t’s” crossed.
I’m good with details, I thrive in structure and closure.
I don’t like things undone or open ended.
The details on my end of this business are good to go.
But crap, the details on your end are not.
Should I be surprised? I’m not, but it makes me weary.
I know I’ll figure out the figures that aren’t adding up, you’re as honest as the day is long.
But now I’ve put hours and hours of time into something I shouldn’t have had to put time into.
I’m frustrated. And I think you are too.
We have to go back into five years of records to decode the problem.
But this is how business gets wrapped up.
Finally, it’s done.
The files are filed, the figures add up, bank accounts are closed.
I breathe a sigh of relief.
I hand it all over to you with a list of what needs to happen in the next year.
I want you to be successful.
So I hand it to you all organized on a “silver platter”as the saying goes.
All you need to do is sign off that I’ve handed it over to you.
Day 1, I feel proud of this. A sense of accomplishment. A light at the end of the tunnel.
Day 5, what can be taking you so long, I’m starting to get antsy.
Day 7, now I’m feeling forgotten, a storm is brewing inside of me, and I begin to wonder if you’ll ever let me go. Don’t you know it feels like I’m at the door of freedom and yet still chained to the room and you hold the key. Please give this some attention.
Day 10, I explain to you how I’m feeling and ask you to please sign off. You’ve been busy, there’s drama in your life right now, etc. I get the feeling that you think I’m rude for asking for this. All I feel is anger now, all you have to do is look over what I sent and sign a paper. None of this is new info. I organized my stuff, I organized our stuff, I organized your stuff. I shouldn’t have had to do all that but I did because I’m good at it. I put hours and hours into it so it’s there at your fingertips. The least you can do is have the respect to spend 5 minutes and review it. I hate having to escalate into drama to get your attention.
Everything feels dark now. Broken somewhat. You’re mad at me and I’m mad at you. Yes, you did sign the paper that night, I got what I was asking for, but now you’re not talking to me. It shouldn’t have been this way. How did this storm erupt?
I guess I felt you weren’t letting me go and I pushed it. I had to, I felt backed in a corner. If I hadn’t created a “drama” would this have ever gotten your attention? I felt trapped. Now I’m angry at you for forcing me to have to go that route. I hate drama and I hate stormy relationships but I hate being a doormat and being ignored even more than I hate those other things. I just want to let go of the hate, let go of the anger. I want peace.
I forgive you. I hope you’ll forgive me for my part.
Perspective and the act of choosing forgiveness does create peace. Something has shifted.
It’s unbelievable how good the freedom feels. Not freedom from you, I’d welcome you back in my life as a friend. But freedom to move forward in life and onto the next dream. Creativity is flowing freely again. The liberation is almost intoxicating. I knew it would be. And I have no regrets. This business was a blessing for a time and moving on is a new blessing. Not unlike the morning after a storm, all things refreshed, all things new. It feels good to have unburdened my heart.
Even though it felt like we were merging into a storm for a while, there is now closure. A new morning dawns.