While it is usually easy to celebrate new beginnings, coming to terms with endings can be much more difficult. As someone who undergone five major career transitions (so far!), there was one in particular that hit me the hardest. At the time, I had been a clarinetist in the Air Force for about four years. Prior to that, I taught junior high band right after completing my bachelor’s degree in Music Education and Performance from Ithaca College. Essentially, I had been playing clarinet for the past 17 years (I was 27 at the time). I had just been selected to become an Air Force officer and attend the clinical psychology doctoral program at Uniformed Services University of the Health Sciences in Bethesda, MD. While I was very excited to begin this journey into a new career field, I was also feeling guilty about no longer playing clarinet (which had become a huge part of my identity). I confessed this feeling to my private lesson teacher at the time (yes, even professional musicians continue to take lessons!). He said something I would never forget: “You have done it [been a professional clarinetist]. And no one can take that away from you.” It was just what I needed to hear to be able to let go and move on.

Endings are a natural and necessary part of life. We can spend much more time preparing for or navigating career and life transitions than we realize. As a career military service member, I had a lot of transitions that were either forced on me (e.g., moving to different duty stations, moving into various leadership roles, both of which are required for promotion), or suppressed (e.g., I couldn’t just “quit” or separate from the military whenever I wanted). While I believe everything worked out for the best, I also appreciate being able to choose (and even create!) next career and life chapters. I see how our experiences can shape who we are. I see the beauty in bringing all of ourselves and our experiences forward into subsequent life chapters. Even though I stopped playing clarinet (and my husband stopped playing euphonium), we are now both serving on our worship team at church (he plays bass guitar, I sing). And our son has picked up the trumpet. So music is still a part of our lives, just in a different (and more fulfilling!) way. Had I continued to play clarinet for the remaining 16 years of my military career, I likely would have never gone into psychology or be able to do what I do today. I have become a big proponent of constant pruning – cutting off activities that are not as productive or fulfilling, to make room for “great” opportunities to take root.

If you are feeling unsettled about an upcoming ending (e.g., in your job, career, a relationship), I encourage you to read “Necessary Endings” by Dr. Henry Cloud.