the death of a calling

This post won't be about mourning.
I'm not really sure how to categorize this one, except to say there is no handbook for coping with the after-calling abyss.  Postpartum depression/bleeding/blues/psychosis/anxiety has been covered extensively in books, reports and studies.  New moms are not left wondering.  Newly released Relief Society Presidents?  No way but through it.  We are a church of volunteers.  It's one of my favorite things about being Mormon--we all take turns at the helm and down in the trenches.  We work where we're asked to serve, and then someone else gets a turn.  It doesn't seem abnormal to me to feel sad about being released from serving the women of the church after five years... but why do we not talk about what it's like to suddenly have that stewardship taken away?  I was released from my calling on Sunday.  It felt right.  I'm excited for the new President.  She'll be fantastic.  But I feel sad.  There's a hole that needs to be filled.  I had a conversation with the lovely Melanie last night, and she very eloquently stated that [speaking of a scenario altogether different] it's all about finding happiness in the NOW and getting to work serving others.  BANG.  Doesn't mean there isn't some level of emptiness after all, but wandering out to pasture (I'm guessing) will not be the best post-calling cure.  I might become a really fantastic baker of cakes.  Stay tuned.