Letting Go of a Career

Someone dear to me recently shared the history of how he separated from the military as a way of suggesting that I let go of my own past with the U.S. Agency for International Development (USAID). Initially, I didn’t understand why he mentioned it — I thought maybe because of the presentation I showed he from my time working as a development advisor with the Department of Defense. He then pointed out the poster on the wall behind me…the Agency logo in view during every video call and online meeting.

Early last year when the first group of USAID employees were placed on administrative leave, several lamented that they did not know how to introduce themselves without an official title and that they felt a severe loss of identity. I heard this again when two women read excerpts from books they wrote since being stripped of their jobs, titles, and identities. Their words sounded painful and resentful; telling their stories was a form of therapy. I could empathize, but I — on the other hand — have felt a guilty sense of freedom since parting with the Agency.

While the majority of my colleagues were hoping for some sort of last-minute legislative or judicial reversal, I saw the debacle as a sign to cut my losses and move on. The psychological effects and emotional damage were beginning to weigh too harshly to keep going, so I did not hang on until the bitter end like many others. My decision to retire was a bit easier for me because I had already considered taking that step a few years earlier, and by January 2025 I was blessed to have reached the mandatory time and age requirements.

I see the logo poster is a simple memento. It was one of several used to show the location of the USAID development advisor’s desk in the Combatant Commands. The one I have sat over my cubicle, and I knew it would be thrown away after I left, so I took it with me when I cleaned out my belongings. Sure, there have been occasions when I could have thrown it away myself, but that seems disrespectful to an Agency that spent 60 years trying to help less fortunate people all over the world.

Thousands of former employees are collateral damage and the impact continues. Last week when I filled out a rental application for a new apartment, I noticed that the background report from a credit agency shows my last job was in 2001. Because the current Administration has tried to completely erase USAID, it means that 20 years of my professional history is gone! Since LinkedIn cannot suffice as an official record, from now on when I need to prove my employment history, I will have to gather tax records and paycheck statements. So much for hard earned experience and skills.

I told my friend that comparing his career loss with mine seemed like a false equivalent: no longer being a Foreign Service Officer is not really about my individual separation from USAID. An entire organization was shut down, so it would be like dismantling the entire Army and loosing your job because of it. Instead, as I understand it, he was singled out and let go because of who he was. I respect what happened to him as being equally gut-wrenching and demoralizing yet, the Army continued without him.

Back to the logo poster. Honestly, it’s a souvenir — like the magnets that I have on my refrigerator. Though I do not think of the symbol as representing me, I have considered printing my new advisory’s logo on the backside, so I keep the cardboard in view as a reminder to do so (because placing it out of sight will be out of mind). And yes, I have a baseball cap, a couple of t-shirts, and a few mugs with the USAID logo — some even designated the country where I received them. Keepsakes like so many rugs and art pieces that may not openly designate where they come from, but I continue to pack and drag them around the world with me.

So, the poster will continue to sit behind my desk for another few weeks — at least until it gets packed away for the move to the new apartment. Perhaps ultimately doing what my dear friend suggested: letting go of a cherished career.