Terminated without Cause: The Brutal Transition to an Empty Nest

 

I’m in the process of losing a job I’ve held for the last eighteen years. I’ve been loyally committed for close to two decades. I’ve never been late or missed a day of work. I’ve given it my all every single day and I’ve done it without salary or benefits. After eighteen years of dedicated service, I’m being fired without cause.

My partner is an employment lawyer and over the years I’ve heard countless stories about unlawful termination, discrimination, retaliation, whistleblowing, and various other reasons why people are terminated from their jobs, often without cause. Though I have experienced many of these conditions in my current position, the reason for my dismissal is none of them. 

After eighteen years in my job, I am being let go simply because it’s time. After eighteen years of parenting, I am no longer needed. I realize this is a mildly hyperbolic interpretation of my situation — of course I am still needed as a parent, just not the way I have been.

It was kind of funny the other day as I sat in the kitchen, once again dejected after offering my eighteen-year-old a “healthy omelet” before school. “I’m okay,” she replied, in a way she might reply to one of those sweet old men volunteering at the airport, asking her if she needed any help to get to her gate.

As I sat on the couch feeling glum with rejection, my partner smiled and said, “you’ve been fired without cause,” and then she burst into laughter. I couldn’t help by laugh too. It was funny and true. My job as I knew it no longer exists, and the management is letting me go.

My daughter doesn’t need me to make her an omelet. She doesn’t want help choosing her prom dress or advice about which college to go to. Just five minutes ago she reprimanded me for doing her laundry. I can see that my time in this role has reached its endpoint. 

I keep doing my job the way I used to and management is telling me that I need to upgrade my conduct. I’m getting one performance review after another — “Try to refrain from over-offering food and beverages.” “Allow subject to invite conversation independently.” “Only do your own laundry.” Despite my earnest efforts, I have to admit that my performance isn’t improving and my tenure here is done.

This is really hard. Losing the job that I poured my heart and soul into for all these years is brutal. I find myself wandering around the house wondering what to do with all this energy. When I go to the grocery store I scan the aisles wondering what I should buy. 

I’ve never been fired before. It’s a lot harder than I thought it would be. It’s confusing and lonely and to be honest, it feels slightly unfair. If this had been a real job, a paid job with benefits, and I was dismissed without cause I might try to get justice, sue the ungrateful asshole who let me go after all my years of service. 

But this is not a real job. It’s motherhood. There is no case to be made, no charges to file, no defendant to sue. I’m lucky. I have lots of support in my partner and my friends. I can laugh about how ridiculous I sometimes feel trying to fit into my old shoes. 

A few weeks ago, when I was strategizing about how to change my daughter’s sheets while she was lying in her bed, she said, “Mom, can you give me some space?” Realizing that I was trying to do my old job again I snapped out of it, apologized and walked towards her bedroom door. “You know,” my daughter continued in her motherly voice, “it’s really common for mothers and daughters to grow distant for a few years and then get close again when the daughter is like twenty-five.”

I laughed, grateful that we can both find humor in this tough transition, but deep down I felt a glimmer of hope . Maybe in the not-too-distant future I’ll get my old job back!