It’s a weird feeling—this space between chapters. That surreal countdown to your final days at work. On one hand, I’m so ready to graduate from my four-year journey in Jakarta. But on the other? It’s a mix of excitement, melancholy, and a little sting of being left out of upcoming projects or brand updates. Of course, I’m still giving my best, showing up for the brand and helping secure visibility wherever I can. But I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t feel… strange.
The ripple of rejection, of being slowly removed from conversations, is uncomfortable. Even though I’ve been practicing my inner peace with the “let-them” theory—let them do, let them go, let them be—the clock just ticks painfully slow some days. Is that wrong? I don’t know. Maybe it’s just part of the process.
I try to think back—when was the last time I felt this in-between limbo? I think it was when I left Mövenpick Jimbaran. But strangely, I don’t remember the sadness—I remember the laughter, the teamwork, the warmth. Maybe this one feels heavier because now I’m at a different level. This time, I’m in management. I have to show up for 150+ people across offline and online, stay composed, stay aligned. But deep down, I’m also navigating my own quiet goodbye.
The hardest part? Realizing that no matter how much heart you pour into your work, or how many good things you contribute, at the end of the day—we’re still employees. There’s always someone above us holding the final say, and that’s just how the structure works. The wiser move? Follow the direction given, respect the chain of command, and still show up as a leader in your own way—through presence, integrity, and professionalism.
As the days get closer, I keep grounding myself in the reminder: this is just work. Yes, I poured my whole heart into it—but as the song says, “all good things come to an end.” One door closes, and if I’ve learned anything from life so far, it’s that new doors—sometimes even better ones—will swing wide open.
If you’re in this same space—half in, half out—doubting yourself, wondering if your presence still matters, I see you. I’m with you. And let’s remember: walking through this discomfort isn’t a setback. It’s an upgrade. One step closer to emotional resilience. One more layer of wisdom. One more chance to say, I showed up until the end.
So yes, God… if you’re listening, just a little more strength, please. A little more courage to close this chapter with grace—and welcome whatever’s next with bravery.