Not every goodbye has to be dramatic. Not every ending has to come with a door slam or a fallout. Sometimes, you can love a place, a person, an experience, and still know it’s time to move on. Sometimes, leaving is an act of love—for yourself and for the space you’re leaving.

That’s where I found myself with my prior group practice. In August 2021, it was exactly what I needed: a soft place to land after a rough season. I was recovering from burnout after leaving a hospital setting during the COVID-19 pandemic. At the same time, I'd started a separation that would ultimately become a divorce. Amid what felt like a very chaotic point in life, that group practice was a safe space—a place that offered comfort, support, and a chance to heal while I found my footing again.

But healing has a way of changing you. What once felt like a soft place to land became a solid launching pad, and I’ll always be grateful for that. 

It became that because I allowed it to. I let go of past employment traumas, released old narratives, and gave myself permission to trust that I was safe. And I think that kind of healing changes what you’re available for.

That sense of safety gave me the room to dream bigger, and feel confident doing so. But the flip side of healing is that the more I dreamed, the stronger the pull became to pursue what I was envisioning—which meant stepping away from the comfort I had come to know and love. And if I’m being honest, I didn’t want to leave that comfort.

That’s a hard but honest shift. And it’s one I’ve seen come up for clients often. 

Maybe you’re there too—a job, a relationship, a routine that’s comfortable but not alive. Maybe you’re afraid of what comes next, afraid of letting go, afraid of admitting that you’re ready for something else. 

But here’s what I know for sure: you can be grateful for what was and still be ready for what’s next.

Multiple truths can exist at once. I deeply appreciate what that practice gave me, and I always will. At the same time, I knew it was time. While coming to the decision was a challenge, the truth was simple: I had grown enough to leave. 

Staying any longer might have turned gratitude into complacency, and love into resentment.

Staying in familiar spaces can feel easier than stepping into the unknown. I think we come to a point, though, where that can be limiting. 

Consider fruit left on the vine too long—what was once ripe eventually spoils. I believe the same happens to us when we stay in a space beyond its expiration date in our lives. It can seem counterintuitive, but sometimes, growth means recognizing that you’ve outgrown your safe place. 

As leaders—whether in the workplace, classroom, or at home—our environment is akin to a flowerbed. Think about soil and seedlings. The soil (us) cradles the seed (our employee, student, supervisees, child etc.), protecting and nourishing it in the dark until it’s strong enough to sprout. But once growth begins, the seed needs room—space to break through, stretch out, reach for light, and ultimately bloom.

Imagine if the soil—if we—held on too tightly, refusing to make space by micromanaging, withholding opportunities for advancement, or gatekeeping in unnecessary ways. The very thing that once sustained the seed could end up stifling its growth.

I can understand wanting to hang on to a good thing—especially after investing time and energy into its becoming. 

Whether you're a manager, mentor, caregiver, or parent, the readiness of someone in your care or leadership can be a reflection of your impact. An employee being ready to pursue new opportunities—or a mentee or dependent seeking more autonomy—might be a sign that you've done your job well. It’s not about blame or failure.

In the workplace, it’s about integrity—and trusting your capacity to develop other effective employees, supervisees, mentees, and more to fill the space their departure creates.

In parenting or caregiving, it’s about recognizing that the desire for independence is often a sign of healthy development.

Sometimes, the most loving thing we can do is let go.

For those making a personal choice to leave, remember this: it’s okay to outgrow places, roles, and even relationships. Your capacity, values, and needs can evolve. Honor that without guilt.

If you’re a leader, remember this as well. Your role is to create an environment where leaving is bittersweet—not because of guilt, but because people know they’ve been valued. When people are treated well, they will typically leave well. And as a healthy mentor or manager, chances are you'll send them off with warmth and well wishes. I was lucky enough to experience that, and it’s something I’ll always appreciate.

And if you’re the employee preparing to leave, know this: your loyalty is to your purpose, not just the place. If your growth requires a change, that doesn’t mean you’ve failed anyone. It means you’re honoring yourself. It also could mean that the place you're leaving did its job by preparing you for what comes next. 

Despite what anxiety may tell you, transitions don’t have to be betrayals. They can be an exchange of lessons and a mark of mutual growth.

Leaving with love is a way to honor where you’ve been without denying where you’re meant to go.

With Love,

Dr. Love Jordan