This week, I want to share a personal story about taking the high road, even when it’s tough. Sometimes, you face situations where it feels easier to hold on to bitterness, but I’ve learned that letting go is often the best way forward.

A few months ago, I stepped down from a senior director role. It wasn’t an easy decision, and looking back, I wasn’t happy with how things played out. When I stepped down, no one reached out to offer support, check in, or even try to repair any damaged relationships. Promises of conversations with leadership never materialized, and it left me feeling disappointed.

At the time, I was dealing with a lot of frustration, anger, and resentment. It felt like a long, drawn-out process that never gave me the closure I wanted. By the time the company officially let me go in August, those emotions had mostly faded. I’d accepted that I was in a different place, and the company was moving in a new direction. Throughout it all, I kept telling them, “I’m here, I’m willing to help,” but that help was never really sought out.

Coming from a military background, I’ve always had a strong sense of duty and responsibility. If I commit to something, I give it my all, even when it’s tough. That can sometimes work against me because I’ll push myself beyond limits, but it’s also why I’m unafraid to advocate for what I deserve—whether that’s more time, money, or resources.

In the end, I decided to let go of the hurt. Holding onto those negative emotions wasn’t going to help anyone, least of all me. I found a new job quickly, and so far, it’s been a great fit. I don’t want to make grand statements just yet, but the culture already feels so much healthier. People genuinely love working there, and it reminds me of how things were when I first joined the previous company. That sense of excitement and purpose makes it easier to move on.

Now, here’s where things get interesting. After months of silence, someone in leadership reached out on LinkedIn to congratulate me on my new role. My initial reaction was frustration. Why now? Why not months ago when I was still at the company, trying to make things work? But after some reflection, I realized it didn’t matter anymore. I’ve moved on, and there’s no point in letting something so small get under my skin.

When you’ve spent years trying to make a difference but feel unheard, it becomes clear that it’s time to step away. I still care about many of the people I worked with, and I genuinely hope the company turns things around. But for me, it’s time to focus on the future.

In fact, the hardest part isn’t letting go of the company—it’s knowing that some of my friends are still there, facing uncertainty. I want the best for them, but I also understand that I’m not in a position to offer advice. The company has the opportunity to make changes, and I hope they take it.

For 16 months, I searched for a new job, quietly applying to positions while keeping a low profile. Once I openly put “available to work” on LinkedIn, everything changed, and I was quickly offered a great opportunity. Now, I’m in a better place mentally. Financially I got to a place where we have no debts, and currently the wife and I are working towards starting a family. Life is moving forward.

This brings me back to the idea of taking the high road. I had opportunities to be petty, to air out the company’s issues publicly, but I chose not to. I’ve seen others go down that path, and while it might feel good in the moment, it’s not worth it in the long run. My former mentor used to say that some people create narratives to avoid feeling like they’re wrong. I didn’t want to contribute to that narrative.

At the end of the day, the company gave me five years of learning and growth. There were more good days than bad, and I’m grateful for the friendships I made. Sometimes, we joke about the “trauma bonds” we’ve formed, but in reality, we have shared experiences that helped us grow.

Walking away with positive memories and friendships is more valuable than holding a grudge. A job is an exchange of your time for money, and if you feel undervalued, it’s time to move on. That’s why I started looking for something new, and I’m glad I did.

So, here’s the takeaway: Let go. It’s okay to feel angry or frustrated, but don’t let those feelings change who you are. I know some of you might be thinking, “But you’re still talking about it.” Sure, because there’s still a part of me that cares deeply about the people I worked with. But you won’t see me airing grievances online—that’s between the company and the people who are still there.

Sometimes, you outgrow people or places, and that’s okay. It’s on you to recognize when it’s time to move on. Venting is natural, but it’s more important to be the bigger person and take the high road.

That’s all I’ve got to say. Let it go, keep moving forward, and trust that better things are ahead.