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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