I’ve Let You Go

Posted on by Victoria
Robert Frost, Poet 1874-1963

I carried unnecessary heartache, and I’ll admit, a few grudges for years.  Once upon a time, as an ultra-ambitious young professional, I got caught in a snare.  Thinking I was being groomed and trained as an apprentice and “next in line” for a plum position, I fell headlong into an attitude of servitude.  Jumping at my mentor’s beck and call, inviting her into my life – fully.  I thought we had a relationship built on mutual respect and her desire to help me was indicative of her big heart AND her genuine regard for my skills.  I know better now but it’s taken me years to gain the perspective I lacked at the time.

Here’s the thing.  I was useful to her.  Oh-so useful.  I don’t want to share too many specifics but let’s just say I was a devoted underling.  I aligned with her point of view, fought small battles for her and cleared the path to make her days as smooth as possible.  My specialty was deflating the air out of inflammatory and enraged constituents.

I was deluded by praise.  She was quick to acknowledge my efforts and those gleaming moments where I felt recognized and valued ratcheted up my resolve.  I did more and more…working longer and longer hours out of a sense of loyalty, yes, but also because she exuded opportunity.  “Big things are in store for you”, she’d say.  “You have everything it takes.”  Me?  I ate it all up as if I was in a buffet line…and then went back for seconds.

Now, many years later, I see that she was looking out for herself.  Brokering relationships was her specialty and she milked every connection for her own benefit.  When a long-awaited opportunity arrived, the person I’d grown to love and admire became distant and less encouraging.  I knew what was happening as it unfolded.  It was as if she packed up a tote bag – the one that I thought contained her respect and regard for my talents and stowed it out of sight.  Had she told me the truth…that patronage was at play and the position I sought was unattainable (despite the subterfuge of a search process) I wonder if I would’ve felt less wounded.

How would that have gone down, if she’d told me the truth?  “Hey there! The interview process is a sham and a scam.  Do your thing, across the three-rounds of screening but the outcome’s already been determined.  You won’t win, no matter how well you perform.” Yeah. I get it. THAT convo was never going to happen. 

What DID she do?  She delivered seemingly heartfelt, placating half-truths and admonishments to “try again“. I mourned two things during that terrible, awful episode in my career.  I grieved the loss of a relationship and the job I sought. 

I worked alongside her for a while but distanced myself.  I’m not sure she noticed any difference.  I still clicked into performance mode, and we remained friendly.  The fact that my tone, demeanor, and enthusiasm diminished?  She didn’t notice because she didn’t care.  Her view of me was always eclipsed by her own needs.

Eventually I left and the parting was pleasant – no acrimony – thanks to my dad’s advice to avoid “burning bridges” and to Robert Frost’s wisdom captured below. (He knew how to tell a six-word story, didn’t he?):

One resonating gift remains.  I learned an invaluable lesson about digging a little deeper, allowing myself to build a greater sense of caution and curiosity in relationships.  I learned to cross-check for authenticity in order to build trust slowly.  I didn’t burn a bridge, but my edges were singed. A hard-fought epiphany for me…the woman who preferred headlong leaps based on instinct alone.

And before you ask, yes, I noodled about having a big dust-up with the almost-mentor, calling her out, but that’s not me. I didn’t need a sharp object to excise her from my life.  Nope. I simply decided to ceremonially untie my connection to her…while also wishing her well. Tailoring Frost’s insight further, I chose to:

Untie. Untether.  It may have taken me a while, but I’ve let you go.

And to my surprise?  Peace was waiting on the other side.

Thank you so much for reading…but before YOU go…take a peek at another snippet of wisdom from a former student…and a celebrity 😉on my personal blog, Victoria Ponders.  Choosing to lean in or let go might be among the most important, recurrent decisions in our lives.

Vicki ❤

49 thoughts on “I’ve Let You Go”

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  2. I imagine that many of us can relate to this situation. Thank you for baring your soul and telling the truth about your experience. May we all benefit by your story! I’ve been on the receiving end—now your story gives pause to wonder if I’ve ever been on the giving end. I certainly hope not! 😳🙏🤔

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    1. Thanks, Jules, for seeing the vulnerability in what I shared. And your question…such a good one about whether or not we’ve been in the role of pseudo-mentor. I can’t imagine you in that way, but I like your point. Good reflection opportunity right there for moi. Happy Sunday morning to you, my friend! 🥰

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  3. Okay, I need to know, where’d you place the hidden camera? My first thought reading this was wondering how you got into my life. Some differences, but lots of deja vu reading this. How do the us people pleasers of the world protect ourselves? How do we do a better job keeping our eyes open looking for the real motives of people in power and people we’re serving? I don’t have good answers to either. I find that my own advice to myself is the same you give someone who is crushed by a past relationship. “People are stupid but you gotta love them anyway!” Thoughtful piece Vicki.

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    1. Okay…I’m NOT happy to hear that the story resonates so much…but I’m also happy it DOES? 😉 I think you’re right. We’re not alone in the gaming of opportunities and the disappointments. And I love that you called out the people pleasing tendencies. We do that, don’t we? Right smack in the face of power and duplicity…trying to forge ahead. Sigh. Thanks so much, Brian. Appreciate you!

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      1. Glad you were able to get past that situation. And yes, maybe the mentor did not notice any difference, maybe to them you were the same Vicki, but what’s important is not them, but the steps you took to get out of that situation and move on with your life. Good for you!

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  5. I think we’ve all had leaders like that, Vicki. I, too, am a firm believer in not burning your bridges. It might feel good in the moment but it can come back to bite you. I live and work in a mid-size community where two large insurance companies dominate the field that I work in. It’s amazing how many people from the company I worked for at the start of my career have turned up where I work now.

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    1. Great point…the world is smaller than ever before, isn’t it? Plus…spewing anger doesn’t resolve much. Short term benefits maybe…but long term? Not good for anyone, I say. Thanks much, Michelle! 😘

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  6. Oh yes, another memory trigger. Similar but not same and with a drastically different ending. It was the one bridge I did burn. Burned the bridge, dug out the pylons, blew up the dam, and deepened the chasm. Probably more of a “dust up” than it warranted but then on second thought no. There are some who need to know they are no longer welcome on my side of the river.

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    1. Thanks for that, Michael. I think you’re right. There are times when it’s good for the soul to take a backwards glance toward that crispy bridge and say adios — never to return again. I’ve done that, too (with greater and lesser outcomes). Most of all I love your thought about who’s no longer welcome on your side of the river. There’s power and release in that. xo! 🥰

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  7. Oh, there is so much goodness in this amazing post. Not burning bridges – that’s my mode too but I’ve sometimes wondered if it takes longer to heal that way. Now at this point in life, I’ve realized that it doesn’t take longer but more intention because the cut isn’t as clear.

    This jumped out at me – “I grieved the loss of a relationship and the job I sought.” The times when it’s complicated because there are multiple things at play. Yes yes yes!

    And the Robert Frost wisdom that you have taken and embodied – absolutely beautiful. Incredibly hard work so thank you for this post that paves the way! ❤ ❤ ❤

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    1. Thanks for that, Wynne. Your comment and Michael’s point — about how nuanced these decisions are…what great thoughts. The balancing act between holding our ground vs. walking away. I don’t know that there’s a good/bad or right/wrong but your point about the lengthier healing process if the cut’s not clear. Oh yes…I see/feel that, too. xo! 🥰

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  8. Although in a different kind of relationship, I can relate to your story. Always the people pleaser and giving 100%, hoping for the attention and love I desired, I finally realized it wasn’t going to happen. I love the Frost quote. I learned it “as letting go”, but you and he say it much more eloquently for sure. ❤️

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    1. Oh, Belle…I dunno about the eloquent part…but I know you and I feel the same way about wisdom when it ‘hits the spot’, right? Cheers to those of us who are recovering people-pleasers. Big hugs to you…and some extra snuggles for Pico. Just because. 🥰

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  9. Reading this right now feels pretty incredible. I just wrapped up a very long conversation that’s all about … all of this, on both sides. To then see this … well, I’m listening, all the way.

    Autistic masking is all about being this different version of oneself to survive. Once I saw–a couple years ago–that I was doing this, even before I knew what “it” was or had been diagnosed, it was painful and horrible to KEEP doing. But the muscle memory ran so deep, unmasking itself was a horrible, heart-breaking full-time job. It’s literally just the last couple of days that I have felt the muscle memory catching up to unified heart and head, with what happened in the just-concluded convo giving me such beautiful “how” clarity muscle memory-nudge toward showing up clear and kind, in face-to-face-convo, and having ALL my convos at that–not abstract reflections involving composites of people and places–level.

    I wish I could have gotten all this living-unmasked-ness know-how into muscle a lot sooner. But reading your words here after having that specific conversation, I am so, so grateful for every lighthouse along the way that’s helped keep me on the road to living wholly as whole-me, the real me, no matter how that is received in any given place. For the gift of watching as others do and reflect upon the work and myself doing the work, as best as I’ve known how.

    Thank you for this soul food. While how I blog/comment will be different thanks to this ever fuller internal realignment, I guess I had to get this one awkwardly weird-long comment out in the space where I’m watching the hard, hard-lost what-was float away. Thank you.

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    1. Love to you, Deborah. I absolutely feel what you shared about the muscle memory and the trenches I can fall into with patterns which don’t serve me well. Yes, yes, yes. And how we navigate? Cheers and hurray to you for your ‘lighthouse’ wisdom. Those pockets of goodness that help us learn from each other? The stuff of life, right there! xo! 💕

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  10. That’s so wrong that she took advantage of you by dangling opportunities that weren’t there. You were right to untie that relationship. Also, I think you did the right thing by not confronting her. What would be the point?

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    1. Yep. It was a choice and I think in that particular situation, it was a good one – the not confronting business. So tricky in life – figuring out when to take a stand and confront and when the person/issue in question isn’t worth the effort or energy.
      Hugs to you this morning! 🥰🥰🥰

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      1. Thank you for the hugs. When my kids young, I’d tend to fight every battle. I adopted the practice of waiting a few days before reacting. That led to a much more peaceful life for me. Definitely we need to pick our battles.

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  13. As so many others have already mention, this was all too relatable. Always the people pleaser, I would bend over backward for others only to realize they had disappeared when the time came when I needed a little support. It’s a painful lesson, but I love the analogy of untying rather than cutting. 🥰

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  14. I am glad you grew from the brutal experience, Vicki. Unfortunately, in the learning department there is no free lunch. I have met a few scoundrels from whom I grew with a large dolop of pain. A few, but not all, I would thank today it I ran into them.

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  15. Eventually, people show you their true character, though that must have been an enormous disappointment. It hurts doubly when it’s someone you trusted and thought had your back. On the flip side, you learned a valuable lesson in the process.

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  16. This jumped out @ me : ” I learned an invaluable lesson about digging a little deeper, allowing myself to build a greater sense of caution and curiosity in relationships. I learned to cross-check for authenticity in order to build trust slowly.” I am someone who tends to trust others easily, but as I’ve gotten older and experienced a few weird things in relationships, I am much, much slower in that department. Glad you were able to glean some life lessons from that heartache, and able to come out the other side with your heart intact. DM

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    1. Gosh, I get that. I think that was always my natural tendency – to return fire – because I’d let the anger fester and then bubble up. Live and learn…some targets aren’t worth it. 😎😉😎

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