Becoming Stronger Than Your Storm

This past summer, I found myself standing at the edge of a proverbial dock—life had delivered yet another unexpected blow. The company I had moved across the country for was undergoing a reorganization, and my role was eliminated. Suddenly, I was plunged into the thrashing waters of job loss, forced to confront the anxiety, humiliation, frustration, and endless questions that come when you’re severed from a company. Though I was given a generous severance, the way my exit was handled left me feeling deeply wounded and confused.

 When I spoke to trusted advisers, they assured me I’d find work easily—and I did—but this time something fierce stirred inside me. I was angry and deeply infuriated, and yet, I felt guilty for feeling that way.

Why? Because, on the surface, it looks like I have it all. I have my health, an amazing son, a supportive family and friends, a beautiful home, money in the bank, and a wealth of skills and talent. But those are external markers of success.

How do we give ourselves permission to sit with the mess when our soul hurts—when we feel profoundly wronged and lack clarity and purpose? How do we move past the fear that acknowledging our pain means we’re forfeiting our faith, perspective, and gratitude for the life we have?

As a woman of faith, I wrestled with these raw emotions. It wasn’t just the job loss I was confronting; it was the crushing isolation. My support systems are thousands of miles away, and I live in a day-to-day seclusion that, at times, overwhelms me. Deep down, I knew God had His hand over me and would guide me through this difficult period. But still, a storm of emotions brewed inside me, demanding to be acknowledged.

One morning, I sat in silence and wrote down all the ugly emotions I was feeling. I gave myself permission to have an honest conversation—free of guilt—about what I was experiencing.

And this is what I wrote…

I am angry. I am frustrated. I am confused. I am afraid. I feel painfully isolated. I feel lost. My heart hurts. I am weary from crying. I feel irrelevant. I lack clarity. I am exhausted from the constant dialogue replaying in my head. I am drained from fighting to stay strong. I feel like a fraud for appearing strong when I’m crumbling inside. I feel humiliated. I feel taken advantage of. I feel like I give more than I get. I grieve for the time I’ve lost. I despise this and those who brought these circumstances into my life. I don’t want to feel like this anymore!

I repeated these words over and over until I could read them without wanting to cry. Until I could fully hand them over to God to dispose of. Until I no longer felt that pang in my heart. I needed to own them and strip them of their power over me. It was intensely cathartic and freeing. I was no longer running from the complex matrix of emotions that had chased me morning, noon, and night. Instead, I drove a stake into its putrefied heart, snuffing out its ability to beat further. In doing so, I eradicated the mountain of pain my soul had been carrying, and replaced it with grace, peace, and a renewed clarity of vision and purpose.

It’s ironic that when we strip ourselves down to such raw vulnerability, we become fiercely empowered. By authentically owning what we’re experiencing and facing it head-on, we become stronger than the storm raging within us. We take ownership of the storm and gain the power to silence the howling winds of negativity. In that silence, we can stand at the edge of the dock, take in the tranquility and beauty of a new horizon, whisper a prayer of gratitude for the strength to have conquered yet another storm, and then set our compass toward the next journey.

©2019 LoriAnn Boyer - All Rights Reserved

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Doing The Charleston

This past year has been full of exciting firsts, both good and challenging. One positive first was taking a mini-vacation solo. I recently ventured down the eastern coast to the charming city of Charleston, SC. Traveling has an incredible ability to broaden your mind, open you to new cultures, and transform you completely. I spent three days immersing myself in the rich—albeit difficult at times—history of Charleston. From the battle-worn brick walls of Fort Sumter to the slave trade market and cobblestone streets of the city, my soul was moved, my heart broken for the right reasons, and my desire to travel more intensely amplified. I came away fortified with a deeper knowledge of our nation’s history and a renewed respect and admiration for our forebears.

Walking through the entrance arch of Fort Sumter, it’s impossible not to feel a pang in your heart. The average age of the men stationed at Fort Sumter was just 25, with some as young as 18. They were sons, brothers, fathers, and husbands, enlisted as soldiers, armed with artillery and patriotic zeal, embarking on a war that would be brutally won by the North. Standing at the fort’s center, knowing this was the birthplace of the Civil War and that Abraham Lincoln once walked these very grounds, was profoundly humbling.

I also took what is known as the Gullah Tour. Gullah is the language spoken by the slaves and is still used among several Charleston communities. Our tour guide, Alphonso, was a lively character who shared his incredible knowledge of Charleston and its role in the slave trade. As he spoke, the city’s history came alive. There was deep emotion felt by all when we came upon what were known as the “slave markets” and the “whipping house.” There were tears from some and a collective quiet respect and reverence as we attempted to understand the atrocities that took place on those grounds. It made us uncomfortable in a way we needed to be, and you would be void of a soul if you didn’t leave changed for the better.

I returned from Charleston enriched by its history and with a newfound love for the Charleston people, both past and present. I also felt a twinge of pride in having embarked on this journey alone. There were many moments I would have liked to share with a friend or special someone; however, the solitude gave me the freedom to prove that I could successfully travel solo. It allowed me to reflect deeply, unencumbered by the distractions of companionship. In the quiet moments of walking through historic sites, I found myself connecting with the stories and lives that had shaped those places. Despite traveling solo, I was never truly alone; I felt the presence of the many souls whose footsteps I followed, whose lives had been intertwined with the history and culture of Charleston.

Traveling solo opened me up to new ventures and ideas, pushing me beyond the boundaries of my comfort zone. It’s in these moments of exposure to the unfamiliar—whether it’s a new landscape, a different culture, or an untold story—that we often discover parts of ourselves we didn’t know existed. I realized that every new experience, every piece of history I touched, and every cultural nuance I encountered added layers to my understanding of the world and my place in it. I found that through these journeys, we are not just exploring the world; we are also exploring ourselves, learning what moves us, what challenges us, and what inspires us. The solitude of solo travel gave me the clarity to recognize these discoveries, and it amplified my desire to continue exploring—not just new destinations, but also the depths of my own aspirations and dreams.

This journey was not just about seeing new sights, but about experiencing the world in a way that allowed me to grow. It afforded me much-needed time for reflection and the chance to discover more about myself, my undiscovered interests, and aspirations—one of which is certainly to travel more.

Now, where to next?

So, I love you...

This past week I received news that a dear friend in LA was struck and killed in a hit and run. The driver was caught within the hour; found to be driving under the influence and charged with vehicular homicide. Tragic and senseless!

I met Dahly two years ago in church. We were seated next to each other and exchanged a warm hug after the worship service. The connection was immediate and sincere. Dahly was accomplished, beautiful, intelligent, grounded, authentic, and had a heart for God and anyone who crossed her path. We were drawn to each other’s energy and passion for life and God. We would have lunch after church and prayed like the mamas we are over our boys. We referred to each other as forever sisters in Christ. We exchanged texts of encouragement when either was facing a difficult challenge and celebrated each others successes. Dahly was pure love and light and I always looked forward to spending time with her.

Upon receiving the news of Dahly’s untimely passing, I rushed to pull up her last text.  It said “One day one of us may not be here and it will be too late to say I love you… So, I love you.  Love ya, girl!” My reply was “Aw… sweetie. Thank you.  I love you too. Have a wonderful day ahead.”  I fell to the floor, intensely grief stricken and sobbed uncontrollably. It was chilling, cruelly ironic and ripped my heart wide open. How would she have known that within a few weeks her life would come to such a tragic end and that her words would have an immensely powerful and lasting impact?  How would either of us know that these would be our last words to each other? Yet, despite them being our last, they are the most precious words you can share with another soul.

As I struggle to make sense of Dahly’s passing and navigate the waves of grief that pour over me, I am reminded once more of our incontestable mortality and the brevity of our journey here. None of us gets out of this alive. We all have an end date.  It’s vital to live intentionally and fiercely in the dash of our birth and end dates. I am reminded, again, to love harder, hug longer, appreciate more deeply, forgive easily, live courageously and with greater purpose, relentlessly pursue my dreams, worry less, stay out of the shallow end of life's pool, and NEVER EVER let someone you love not know how much you love them.

I thank God for giving me the gift of Dahly and her beautiful effect on my soul. I am grateful to have experienced her words of love as well as her love in action. I will miss you, my dear friend and forever sister in Christ, and look forward to the day when I can warmly embrace you again!