Exactly two months ago, I was fired from my job. Not laid off, no company-wide restructuring—just terminated, in what may have been the most callous and cold manner I’ve ever experienced in my career.

There are a myriad of reasons for why it happened, though to be clear, none of them to do with my performance. I’ve never lost a job before. I imagine it’s usually accompanied by a wave of sadness and disbelief but for me, all I felt was relief. I had been waking up with dread every morning for months, trapped in a role I felt undervalued, working for a company that consistently showed it didn’t care about their employees and answering to a boss who actively sought to get rid of me.

I had stayed for the paycheck. And it felt exactly like that, heavy and uninspiring.

My career has always been a source of great pride for me. I forged my own path, in new industries and arenas, making a name for myself, depending primarily on my own abilities. When I was younger I had a hard time asking for help, because I wanted so badly to believe that I had come to where I was of my own volition, that every achievement was mine alone. So I worked as hard as my body and brain would allow me, to better myself until I was excellent. And I am excellent. 

But then life has a way of happening, of doing what it wills. I have grown more in these past three years than my entire life prior. I’ve learned to trust myself enough to take leaps of faith I would never have a decade ago. I left situations that caused me stress. I let people go whose season in my life have come and gone. I moved across an ocean to learn how to truly sit with myself in peace.