28 and Great

Over the past week, I commemorated my 28th year in the Talent Acquisition and HR industry. It has been an incredible journey filled with valuable experiences and profound insights gained from navigating the challenging terrain of recruiting and HR. Throughout my career, I have been fortunate to encounter inspiring leaders who have challenged and supported me, pushing me well beyond my comfort zone.

While I could easily wax eloquent sharing numerous anecdotes about the wisdom I've accumulated and the invaluable guidance from my supervisors during my most challenging moments, I want to take a different approach to celebrate this milestone. Today, I want to introduce a remarkable group of women who continue to inspire me—the women pictured here! They are the giants whose shoulders I proudly stand on today.

When I set up my current home office, I found myself drawn to the captivating photos of working women from the early to mid-1900s. There was a profound connection with each of these women that touched my soul. Being a talent acquisition specialist, I naturally possess an insatiable curiosity about people's career stories, and these women were no exception. Their individual journeys resonate with me deeply, and I yearn to learn more about them.

These women live with me, serving as daily reminders of their incredible stories. The strength and resilience they displayed during a time of immense challenges and change are nothing short of awe-inspiring. As war and the industrial revolution unfolded, these women fearlessly entered the labor force and played pivotal roles in both endeavors. They were the backbone of the revolution, and their tenacity was nothing short of astounding. Their stories kindle a wildfire of admiration within me, as they come from a generation that exemplified unparalleled grit and fortitude. I can't help but feel inspired by their unwavering determination and dedication to making a difference. Their fearlessness in the face of adversity is truly commendable, and they serve as timeless symbols of empowerment for generations to come.

When I interview candidates, I often conclude by asking about their childhood aspirations. It's a question that elicits a gentle laugh, accompanied by a nostalgic sense, and yet, they genuinely enjoy reflecting on it. Witnessing the connection between their childhood dreams and their current career path never fails to intrigue me.

In studying each woman's story, my curiosity is piqued by the same query. I find it hard to believe that at the tender age of nine or ten, their dreams revolved around becoming factory workers, domestic servants, blue-collar laborers, or bomb makers. I yearn to sit down with each of these remarkable women and delve into their unique narratives. Who were they before the weight of societal expectations and circumstances molded their destinies? What untapped gifts and abilities did they possess? What inner forces drove them? What dreams did they hold dear? Equally important, what dreams did they perhaps have to relinquish along the way? What and who inspired them?

Although I may never know their personal stories, they have helped me write mine. In the presence of their legacy, I feel compelled to show up with fierce determination, embodying the fortitude and resilience that define their journey. Their unwavering strength propels me forward, even on the most challenging days at work, because I know that even on my worst day it would have been their best.

Unlike the amenities and support systems we enjoy today, these remarkable women didn't have the luxury of ergonomically designed workspaces, structured career development programs, annual performance reviews, or generous benefits packages. They toiled through long and grueling hours of physically demanding and repetitive labor, often undertaking perilous tasks with courage and determination. Yet, at the end of the day,  they returned home to take care of their families and domestic responsibilities, bearing a burden that was beyond anything we can fathom.

Many of them endured the absence of their partners, who were away fighting in wars or, tragically, lost their lives on the battlefield. Despite such immense hardships, they pressed on, proving their unyielding strength and resilience.

As I sit here, contemplating the immense advantages of being a professional woman in today's world, a sense of unbridled gratitude washes over me, and I find myself in absolute awe of the women who came before me and their invaluable contributions. Their stories have left an indelible mark on my heart, and I am deeply humbled by their unwavering strength, relentless perseverance, and the personal and professional sacrifices they made to navigate the challenges of their time.

What truly strikes me is none of these women had foresight to know that on the day their photos were taken, that almost a century later they would not only have a profound impact on a scrappy, ambitious redheaded girl from the little town of Swansea, MA, but inspire her to empower and pass the baton to next generation of women taking their place in the workforce. 

In this journey of empowerment, I am but a link in a long chain of progress, connected to these remarkable women who walked paths laden with obstacles and triumphs. Their spirit lives on through me, igniting a deep fire within my soul to be a catalyst for change and to ensure that their voices resonate throughout history as a testament to the strength of womankind.

Here's to the women who blazed the trail before us and did the real heavy lifting; and to those coming behind who will carry the torch and boldly echo their stories and legacy.

©2019 LoriAnn Boyer - All Rights Reserved

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You've Got This!

I’m fresh from my visit to LA to see my son. It had been eight months since I last had eyes on him and we were long overdue for some bonding time. Much had transpired in the past, almost, year. Stephen had transitioned from his former apartment to his father’s home and now a studio apartment. He moved on from a long-term personal relationship and landed an amazing job.  I moved from working in our family business to running my own talent acquisition consulting business, underwent two major surgeries, and started to move forward in my personal life. My son and I speak at least every other day and Facetime when we can. I’m grateful for modern technology to help keep us connected and see each other in real time, but nothing compares to being in the same space and breathing the same air.

When I first saw my son, I became “that mom”. After hugging him as hard as I could and taking in the moment, I bellowed, “You look way too thin. We need to get some food in you and now”. He laughed and said “Mom, I’m fine and I eat plenty”. And, then, of course, we headed off to lunch, followed by ice cream, where I attempted to fatten him up. 

That evening my son brought me to his apartment.  A week prior, and all on his own, he had moved himself in, purchased furniture and the necessary household accouterments one needs when setting up home, and worked feverishly in the evenings to set up what would now be his home. His home! No longer my home or his dads home, but a beautiful blend of both coupled with his style.  I was struck by how smartly, effectively and efficiently he used every inch of his space. I was proud of the environment he created for himself and even more excited to see how genuinely happy he was in his new space. 

We spent the next few days visiting friends and walking all over Culver City. We toured his new office, ate out, a lot, (see note on fattening him up), and spent time discussing how much he loves his job, the exciting projects he’s working on, how he’s managing his finances and putting money away each month, and new ideas for movies he’d like to write and direct.  Every part of this trip screamed of him being all grown up. Who was this kid? Who raised him and when did he get so savvy about navigating being an adult?

My move to Charlotte, two years prior, came as a surprise due to a great job offer. As a result, I sold our home in Pasadena and transitioned Stephen into an apartment. A friend of ours offered a studio apartment he had on his property.  I had one day to move him in and then hop a plane back to Charlotte. Everything was happening at warp speed and my son and I were in tactical mode, checking off all of the “to do’s”.  Then, on my last morning in LA, at the God forsaken hour of 4 am, as I backed out of the driveway of the studio apartment and headed to the airport, it hit me, and hard. Real hard.  All I could picture was my son fast asleep on the other side of the wall and knowing I was leaving him there. That he would awaken in a few hours and I would no longer be there. I didn’t just cry, I wept. Hard. Uncontrollably. I was unable to breath and questioned every part of my decision to move to Charlotte. 

Since the moment I knew I was going to have a son until that moment, we had been inseparable and now, I was leaving him to immediately stand on his own while I was 3,000 miles away. Nothing prepared me for that moment and, although I felt as if my heart was being ripped out of my chest, it was the right kind of hurt. We were both in a state of natural transition and progression. Him onto grown up things and me onto bigger career opportunities. Over the next few months, we’d find our footing with the new lives we had been thrust into. I’m always amazed at how adaptable we human beings are.

As my plane took off from LAX, my heart felt that all too familiar ache. I was comforted in knowing my son is happy, like really happy, He’s nailing this adulting thing, has a kick butt apartment that is wholly symbolic of who he is, he loves his job and living in the crazy that is LA, and, most importantly, he still enjoys hanging out with his mom when I come to visit. All of this confirmed that I, (we) made the right decision moving to Charlotte.  It was a bold and courageous move for us both and we’ve grown in our own necessary ways, but never apart.

As I returned home to Charlotte and settled in for the night, I couldn’t help but reflect on the amazing time I had with my son and for the gentle confirmations it provided. I realized that he’s got this thing called life; a life I spent the last 22 years equipping him for. I sent him a goodnight text that said, “I’m beyond proud of the man you’re becoming. As hard as it was to leave you today, I now know that “you’ve got this” and you’ll be just fine. Be good, stay true to yourself and your core principles and values and always make good choices. I love you more than you know. Mom!” And with that, I turned out the light, whispered a prayer of gratitude and realized that I too have, finally, got this!

The Restoration

I recently completed a special transformation project on the cabinet pictured here. When I moved from California to the Carolinas, I was intentional about bringing it with me. It had once lived on my patio, weathering years of sunshine and storms alike. She had taken quite a beating and, by all accounts, should have been left on the curb for pick-up.

But I saw something far more beautiful.

This cabinet held rich memories of countless hours spent on my patio, reading, praying, meditating, sharing family time with my son, and enjoying fellowship with friends and loved ones. In that space, I navigated painful setbacks, worked through difficult life challenges, and celebrated precious milestones and hard-won successes.

My patio was my sanctuary, my sacred real estate. From the large white myrtle tree (see my previous post, My Giving Tree), to the flowers, gorgeous oversized clay pots, and peaceful ambiance, it was a place that nourished my soul. The cabinet became the one tangible piece, a cherished memento of a space that so beautifully occupied my life. I felt as if each grain of wood held one of my stories and we were far from writing the final chapter.

I started this restoration over a year ago with a friend. I was excited about the idea of transforming her, and having gone through several transformations of my own, I couldn’t help but see the parallels. My friend and I discussed how best to salvage the cabinet. We searched for the perfect color, gathered the necessary tools, and decided to replace the top with a mosaic of tiles. We carefully sanded and smoothed the weathered exterior, repaired the broken pieces, and cloaked her in an exquisite jeweled-blue coat of paint. I felt such joy knowing we were bringing her—and in a way, our own—story back to life.

Then the project stopped. For four months, she sat untouched.

When we resumed, we created the tiled top, carefully sealed each piece, and once again, progress came to a halt. Eleven months passed. She remained in my garage, unfinished, like someone who had not yet been fully dressed. I felt frustrated and saddened that this transformation, one so deeply meaningful to me, had been abandoned. All the planning, care, hard work, time, resources, and excitement had simply… stopped.

The starting, stopping, pulling away, and fading interest in something so special made me wonder if it was an analogy for other things in my life, including my friendship with the person who began this journey with me.

As the summer months approached, I made a decision. I would finish what I started and return this cabinet to her rightful place on my patio.

I washed away the dust, dressed her in yet another fresh coat of paint, cut the glass for the side doors, attached the hardware, and crowned her with the mosaic top. Then came the moment I moved her to her new and rightful home on the patio. It felt as though the bridge from my former sanctuary was finally in place. She seemed to open her eyes after a long two-year slumber, alive again, and more beautiful than ever.

As I sit and reflect on the lessons learned through this project, I am humbled. I’m struck by the parallels between what was once a beat-up piece of furniture, destined for the trash heap, and the transformation that made it a treasured masterpiece—and how we, too, can feel beaten down, abandoned, and ready to give up, only to be renewed into something more beautiful than before.

For transformation to happen, we must first allow change to take place. We must be willing to be fully deconstructed before we can be reconstructed. For me, I believe in a God who daily renews me. Despite the “not so pretty” in my life, He chooses to see beauty in the ashes and what I can become. He doesn’t toss me to the curb, but like sandpaper to wood, He refines me, mends the broken pieces, restores my soul, and brings me to a place far more beautiful than I could have ever imagined.

It’s ironic that while I was painstakingly transforming the cabinet, God was unconditionally and lovingly transforming me—preparing me for this new and incredible season in my life.

I look forward to the hours I’ll spend on my patio with this newly restored piece from my past, as I move toward and embrace the future me. In some ways, we’ve breathed new life into each other. We’ve both gone beyond our original form, emerging from the chrysalis anew. Here’s to new discoveries, continued growth, and a fresh library of stories and experiences yet to be written.

Another Shooting Took Place Today

Last night, my fellow Carolinians and I bore witness to the heart-wrenching horror of yet another school shooting, unfolding tragically on our television screens. This time, the somber event unfolded in our very own backyard, at UNCC. Just last week, we marked the passing of a year since the Charleston, SC tragedy, and despite the passage of time, the wounds remain painfully fresh. The events of yesterday have only deepened an already gaping wound, leaving the Carolina community in a state of emotional triage.

While I don't typically find myself commenting on current events, my heart now pulses with raw emotion. The knowledge that two more sets of parents have been cruelly initiated into a club they never sought membership in weighs heavily on me. These parents woke up today facing the gut-wrenching task of arranging a funeral for their beloved child – a child whose life was callously extinguished by a sick and twisted individual, devoid of any regard for the sanctity of life. On what should have been the last day of classes, tragically, it became the last day of life for two innocent victims. In the coming week, we will lay to rest two young adults whose lives were senselessly and brutally cut short. The scars carried by thousands of students and faculty will persist for a lifetime. The families and friends connected to the victims will forever bear the burden of this unfathomable trauma within their hearts. And our beloved Carolinas, once again, bear witness to the sorrowful stain of yet more bloodshed upon our community's fabric. 

What adds to my distress is the fact that national morning news shows allotted only a fleeting few minutes to cover the shooting before briskly transitioning to the weather report. Have we truly reached a point where school shootings are tragically normalized within our culture? Have we become so desensitized to these unspeakable tragedies that we readily move on to the next news item, scarcely pausing to reflect? While thoughts and prayers are offered by many, and while their intentions are commendable, even as someone who firmly believes in God, I recognize that thoughts and prayers alone do not shield innocent bystanders from the onslaught of bullets. We are in dire need of actions beyond mere thoughts and prayers.

We are meant to be a nation embodying greatness, yet regrettably, the truth is starkly different. When our schools, places of worship, workplaces, and public gatherings transform into grounds for violence and vendettas, we cease to be a land of greatness; instead, we are becoming a realm of perpetual mourning and a chamber of execution. We must acknowledge the depth of our brokenness and the fractures within our society. How much more bloodshed must accumulate before we engage in a civilized and unbiased dialogue – one that transcends personal agendas, egos, and political affiliations? It's high time we address the ugly plague that has transformed this nation into a killing field. For my part, and perhaps for yours too, I yearn for a day when our mornings do not commence with the grim headline, "Another shooting took place today at…"

Surrendering to the Solitude

One of the most difficult things about relocating to the Carolina’s has been the day to day loneliness. I honestly had not anticipated how incredibly lonely I’d feel. I was accustomed to always having friends and family around who were ready for a get together at the drop of a hat. I went from growing up in a large family, getting married and starting a family, raising my son on my own; but with a village to support me, to now living alone.  I’m a people person and thrive on the energy of those I enjoy hanging out with. I have an amazing network of friends; however, they are mostly, all, thousands of miles away.  Migrating through my days in total isolation has been an adjustment I was not prepared for. There are countless articles that speak to the epidemic of loneliness and its grim collateral damage; and I feared I was becoming a statistic. There were times I felt I was on the brink of emotional collapse; however, I forced myself to lean into the learnings and embrace the loneliness. As with most circumstances that challenge me, I seek to understand the teachings in the discomfort and take heart in knowing there’s a greater purpose in the pain and process.

Here’s what I’ve learned in surrendering to the solitude.

• The quiet calms the internal chatter and allows me to have deeper clarity.
• My personal relationship with God and meditation practice has been dramatically and beautifully amplified.
• It has motivated me to be more creative and opened my eyes to untapped skills.
• It has taught me patience and then retaught me again!
• I’ve learned to be more accepting of myself.
• I’ve learned there’s freedom in doing what I want when I want… like eating ice cream in bed at midnight while binge watching “This Is Us”.  Bring it!
• I am more present and appreciate time with friends and loved ones more.
• I am much more in tune with my surroundings.
• I’ve discovered the power and value in the silence.
• I’ve learned that it’s a gift to sit quietly on my porch and listen to nature's symphony as the day begins to dawn!
• I’ve learned that it’s alright to make new friends and build new bonds.
• I’ve become really good friends with the Amazon delivery guy.
• I’ve learned to self-care more.
• Speaking of self-care, I’ve learned that three days is the max I should go without a shower. Especially if I’m expecting an Amazon package between day three and four.
• I’ve learned that my dog is a great listener.
• I’ve learned that I am fierce, and nothing holds me back.
• I’ve learned that even when I see friends and families together that many of them are still alone.
• I’ve learned that those whom I’ve helped in their times of difficulty or periods of solitude, won’t necessarily be there for me in mine.
• I’ve learned to take time to properly heal when hurt by those I never expected to be hurt by.
• That I’ll drive hundreds of miles for a hug and to be with a cherished friend or family members.
• That although I’ve come to accept my season of loneliness, I know that it has been good for just that, a season, and not intended long term.
• I know that I do not want to grow old alone.

Spending time alone can be healthy and has its benefits, yet we are not designed to be alone long term.  I remember when I was in bible college being struck by Genesis 2:18 The Lord God said, "It is not good for man to be alone. I will make a helper suitable for him." Of all the amazing things God created, the first thing He said that wasn’t good, was that we should not be alone. Connection and companionship is vital to our survival. I mean, so much so, that even God felt so strongly about it that he took measures to ensure we weren't alone.

I am grateful for my time of solitude, albeit as difficult as it has been from time to time. I am grateful for the lessons I’ve learned. They have refined me and re-purposed my soul, and, in an unexpectedly beautiful way, prepared my heart to be open, accepting and deeply appreciative when someone special will occupy my space again. 

Home Sweet Home

A year ago today, I sent a picture of my house key to a friend of mine with the caption “precious metal”. Moving into this home was precious in so many ways. As I reflect back over this past year, I do so with gratitude and a measured sense of accomplishment. It was scary leaving everyone and everything I knew in Los Angeles and start over not knowing a soul in the Carolina's.  It was the right kind of scared and I’m thankful for having the guts to have done so. I purchased this home on my own, with my money and resources and single-handedly unpacked every box, filled every cabinet and closet, hung every picture and decorated every room. When all was said and done, I was pleasantly exhausted and beyond grateful. It's never been lost on me how blessed I am to be a homeowner and especially the owner of this home.  

 When we think of a home, so many things come to mind. For me I think about the story it tells when friends and family visit. I have a sign over my front door that says, “Love is spoken here”. It is there by design. It is my hearts intent that while here, my guests feel that they are home and that within these walls is a place of love, acceptance and respite.

Having lived in LA for 22 years, I had become accustomed to the congested living, noise pollution and countless utility wires strung across my yard. I now enjoy scenic country roads, a sprawling yard with lush trees and flowers, and wide-open skies with zero obstructions.

My greatest joy came about six months after moving here. I had come home from work, made a cup of tea and went out to my patio to pray and meditate. I looked up at the sky and perfectly placed was a cloud shaped like a dove. I was overcome with a sense of peace and felt a liquid love pour over me. I took a deep breath in and realized that I was now… truly home.

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 relocated across the country for was undergoing a reorganization, prompted in large part by my CHRO’s decision to take a new role elsewhere. In the wake of that change, the team’s culture quickly deteriorated. Toxic behaviors surfaced—cattiness, calculated undermining, and a growing lack of respect and professionalism became the daily norm.

Ultimately, we reached a mutual decision that I would take a severance and part ways with the company. And just like that, I was plunged into the thrashing waters of job loss, forced to confront the anxiety, humiliation, frustration, and endless questions that follow such an abrupt ending. Though the severance was generous, the way my departure was handled left me feeling deeply wounded and profoundly 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 was 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!

THE SOBRIETY COIN

I recently found a sobriety coin on the sidewalk. I had heard of sobriety coins, but never viewed one up close. When I got in my car I examined the coin in detail. On one side The Serenity Prayer is inscribed.  On the other, the length of sobriety achieved, the phrase “To thine own self be true”, and the words unity, service and recovery. This particular coin signified 18 years of sobriety; 18 years. Wow! We often hear people joke during lent how difficult it is to give up something for 40 days. How could they ever manage 18 years?

As I held the coin in the palm of my hand, I felt a powerful connection with it. I was overcome with deep emotion and pushed to tears. It was not lost on me what this coin signified. Who was this soldier of sobriety that formerly owned this coin? What demons must they have overcome to have reached such a monumental milestone in their recovery? Were they still living in a state of sobriety? I have friends and family members who have battled addiction and are in recovery.  I know all too well, and have experienced the pain, heartbreak and destruction it brings. I’ve also seen the positive effects of sobriety as a result of the hard work of those who work the program and genuinely want to be healthy again.

Sobriety is described as a state of living sober. I was challenged to examine my own life in an attempt to understand, what areas do I need to experience sobriety? Where do I need to gain control over a negative force that serves only to destroy me, and perhaps, at times, those around me? If I were to be completely honest, which is a key step in sobriety, and choose one, it would be fear.

Fear of:

• failure
• rejection
• what the future holds (don’t we all these days?)
• being hurt by those I love and trust
• being used and taken advantage of
• getting my heart broken… again (I could write another 100 blogs on this one)
• growing old alone 

The list certainly goes on. These unhealthy fears hold me in an intoxicated state, prohibiting clear thinking and experiencing the life I’m truly meant to live. 

The first step in sobriety is admitting you are powerless over your dependence. Yikes, admitting weakness. That alone sparks fear, yet it must be spoken aloud and confronted in order to free myself from its clutches. OK. Here goes… Hello, my name is LoriAnn and I need sobriety from fear. Phew! Step one, check.

An interesting fact about the sobriety coin is that it not only represents the years of sobriety a member achieves, but, it represents AA's commitment to the receiver - not the receivers’ commitment to AA".  This is partly why it’s critical for recoverings to attend meetings.  They need the support of their community. Community is vital for continued sobriety.

I underwent an unexpected set back a few months ago that propelled me into the depths of fear. The fear paralyzed me in such a way that I was rendered unable to get out of bed for several days and spiraled into a debilitating depression. I was fortunate enough to have a community of family and amazing friends to pull me out of the dark chasm I had fallen into. They didn’t just check in on me with trite messages and calls; no, they showed up in fierce and real ways. They were my recovery group, my community, my people. They pushed me hard, daily, to move past my fears. They proved to me that living in fear wouldn’t change the outcome of my situation.  They also challenged me to surrender my independence and allow them to take care of me. 

How many times have you heard a recovering say "I've got this under control this time". These are lies used to perpetuate pushing their support and home team away. I was guilty of the same.  When you've not showered long enough to where even your dog refuses to sleep with you, you've eaten enough Ben & Jerry's to keep them in business for the  next few years and, you've binged watched Snapped or, worse, The Kardashian's, you certainly don't have this under control.  Vulnerability is not an easy playground for me to hang in. Standing emotionally naked in front of those I have spent years proving I’m a warrior to was daunting.  By shedding the ego, stripping away my insecurities and allowing my “true” community to be there I was able to detox from the fear and pain I was in and experience sobriety from its attempts to hold me hostage. I had to grab that gravy sucking bull called fear by the horns and let it know who was really boss here. I’ve since learned that I can’t stop fear from coming to me, but I do have the power to stop it from getting in me.

To the former owner of the coin I hold not only in my hand, but now in my heart, know it is safe and has had a profound impact on its new owner. I applaud you for the warrior you’ve been these past 18 years and for the fears and battles you’ve bravely faced to reach this milestone.  Stay the course and never stop fighting the good fight, my friend.  I wish you continued recovery and peace on your sobriety journey and to thine own self be true.

All rights reserved. ©2017  LoriAnn Boyer

Nineteen Years and Counting

Nineteen years ago today I awoke in a haze in a Los Angeles hospital trying desperately to piece together the events of the past 24 hours. Little did I know then that this would be the first day of my journey on the long road of conquering depression and anxiety. I had suffered a severe breakdown the night before. It was terrifying to say the least. I have always been a happy go lucky, upbeat, grounded and lighthearted soul. Depression and anxiety would be the last malady I would have ever expected to be diagnosed with. Yet, here I was frightened and confused and having to grapple with my new reality. A reality that felt much distorted in the moment.

For anyone who has suffered serious bouts of depression or confronted anxiety it can be the most hellish of nightmares. When you are in the depths of a full blown depression you feel as if you’re bound in chains and screaming underwater. You see the light at top of the water and exhaust yourself fighting to pierce through its veil.

The first episode is the most terrifying. You have no idea what is happening to you. You feel like you’ve literally lost your mind. You want to sleep forever and wake up to everything being normal again. The irony is, you’re now living your new normal. There will be hours upon hours of intensive therapy as you work toward healing your broken pieces. There are countless antidepressants, you can take to numb yourself, and some that are life saving for some, but the reality is no one pill can “cure” your depression. That’s like putting a tiny bandage over the wound of someone who just had open heart surgery and hoping they don’t bleed out. Depression is a hard fought battle that you visit time and again. For me, my faith, family, friends, and insatiable will to fight have been the pillars to my conquering this beast. My prayer mantra is always Philippians 4:13, “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me”. There were countless nights I fell asleep reciting this mantra as a way of calming my anxiety.

I have encountered several bouts of depression and anxiety since my first diagnosis. They've come less and less over the years and have gotten easier to conquer but they are grueling nonetheless. I’ve learned to lean deeper into prayer and meditation and reach out to my friends in complete vulnerability to ask their support. My good friend David Grant Wright, while kindly nursing me through an episode last summer, said, “It’s like an old friend who taps you on the shoulder to remind you of their presence. You look back, smile and say, ah, you again. Yes, we've danced this dance before and I’ve got this”. 

For all my fellow warriors facing the ugly beast that is depression, never give up. Never lay down your sword and never retreat. No matter how much pain you are experiencing, how weary you get or how frightened and hopeless you feel. No matter how many tears you’ve cried or how scorching the heat of battle gets, never, ever give up. Fight with every fiber of your being and know that you have what it takes to slay the dragon before you. Know that you are not alone. You stand shoulder to shoulder with other combatants who are fighting the same fight. Know that every wound you take to your armor is so the light can shine through when you finally win the battle. 

For me, depression is one chapter in the many wonderful chapters that are my life story. It weaves its way into other chapters but it is not the entire book and I refuse to let it be the main character.  

I thank God for allowing me to wake up in my own bed this morning healthy, happy and depression free. I thank Him for always having his hand of protection and grace over me, even in my darkest of hours. I thank Him for the scars and learnings along the way. I thank Him for being my strength when I wanted to drop my sword and run. I thank Him for always whispering in my ear that I am not alone. Most importantly, I thank Him for nineteen years of hard fought but sweet victory! 

How Rudolph Got Hired

One of my favorite Christmas movies is the beloved holiday classic, Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. The undeniably lovable, wobbly legged reindeer with his shiny red nose. I was three when I was first introduced to Rudolph. Four decades later and after two decades in the Talent Acquisition industry, I’ve come to look at the story of Rudolph from a whole different lens. 

Rudolph had a unique skill set that set him apart from his peers. A talent that was not initially recognized as critical or valuable, yet, would become vital to saving Christmas. His shiny red nose. When Rudolph is seen participating in the annual reindeer games, Comet is aghast by the presence of his illuminating nose and dons him unfit for duty; despite Rudolph being able to fly higher than any of the other reindeer during tryouts. But Rudolph looked and behaved differently. In Comet's misguided assessment, Rudolph did not fit or look the "part" or  match the traditional job description of the role.

Too often I’ve seen hiring managers make the same mistake. They hire in a vacuum. They want to hire people that look, think and act like they, and the majority of their organization does. They refuse to look at candidates who deviate even a fraction from their preconceived notions of what the perfect candidate should look like. 

Today’s business world and social culture is changing at a relentless, frenetic pace. This is largely contributed to the need for social reform and the constant explosion of new technology, digital transformation, data, analytics and the like.  We cannot go to market with such linear, bias thinking about the talent we need to get the job done. If we want to hire innovative, creative and unique talent we need to toss out the cookie cutter approach to hiring and think more innovatively and creatively. We need to aspire to hiring people who look and behave differently when assessing talent. We need to focus more on the entirety of the individual sitting across the desk from us and less on the job description. Gone are the days of traditional hiring practices. Granted candidates should meet the basic requirements of a role and exude evidence they will honor and abide by your cultural and core values; however, we should not be quick to eliminate those that are risk takers, quirky, forward thinkers or who don’t fit into the status quo mold. We should challenge ourselves to seek out ways they could add value to our organizations. This will require us to boldly disrupt our systems, which is never an easy playground to show up on but with the right mindset and alignment of mission, could transform your organization.

If Albert Einstein were alive today I guarantee there would be companies that would immediately reject his candidacy. He was the epitome of quirky - that crazy unkempt hair, wearing fluffy slippers to work, and mumbling incoherently to himself when deep in thought. He was what left of center calls left of center, yet he was one of the greatest minds and influencers of the 20^th century. To hire such talent, we need to look beyond the resume and stale job requirements, look beyond color and race, look beyond our own unconscious bias and make bolder hiring choices.

Like many organizations who fail to see potential risk when making short-sighted decisions, no one at the North Pole foresaw the blinding snow storm that took place on Christmas Eve. I do find it surprising they were void of a contingency plan given it was the North Pole and snow was, well... their thing. They needed an immediate creative solution. Rudolph, for all intents and purposes, did not look the part or fit the traditional job description yet, in the end, his quirky, innovative skill set, that initially no one saw the value in, became the solution to saving Christmas that year. 

One of my favorite moments in the movie is when Santa readies the sleigh for take-off and asks, “Are you ready, Rudolph” and Rudolph enthusiastically replies, “READY SANTA”. He had always been ready even though the North Pole wasn't ready for him. He was very much ahead of his time. His passion, drive, determination and unusual skills propelled him from being rejected and considered unfit for duty to leading the pack and being the hero of the holiday.

Don’t make the same mistakes Rudolph’s leadership and hiring team made. Hire people who will best represent the direction your company is heading and are cutting edge thinkers and creative problem solvers. Hire people smarter than you. Hire people who look differently from you. Hire people who will challenge you to approach your business from a whole new paradigm. Hire the unicorn of an individual who is highly capable of getting the work done, but makes you scratch your head a little. They just might end up saving your company one day!

©2016 LoriAnn Boyer - All Rights Reserved

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Surrendering to Transformation

When I embarked on 2016, I determined that this would be a year of transition and shaking things up. I set goals to improve on the professional, personal, physical and spiritual aspects of my life.  My pastor once said, “If you’re not doing something with your life that shakes it up and scares you a little (in a good way), then you’re not doing something with your life”.  It was time to shake things up and venture into some scary, and, at times, daunting territory and push toward a greater purpose. 

 

On the professional side, although I was much endeared to the people I worked with at my former company, my role was no longer challenging or satisfying and the opportunity for upward mobility was at least two years down the road.  My job search led me to my current firm, where the first few months I felt like Alice in Wonderland when she fell down the rabbit hole. When you move from one job to another, everything in your professional universe changes. 

I swore I’d never work in downtown Los Angeles again and here I was snaking through its gritty streets with its onslaught of rude drivers, one ways, constant construction and/or streets being closed due to filming.  The latter a constant in LA.  I went from a company of 200 employees onsite to about 5-10 people in the office on any given day.  I had new leaders to become acquainted and partner with, new systems and processes to learn, a new team of recruiters to assess, develop and ensure they were providing value to the organization, begin delivering results, and, most importantly, know where all the Starbucks within in a three block radius were located.  As the weeks wore on I began to build new professional relationships, experienced a few quick wins and started to gain my stride, and was landing on a deeper confirmation that this was truly the right role and place for me. 

On the dating side, earlier this year I made a choice to come off of all online dating and take a much needed break.  I had experienced one too many shallow, go nowhere relationships and/or scary encounters.  I was becoming more and more jaded and knew it was time to get out from this cornucopia of broken men who, in theory, wanted to find their soul mate, but in reality were just looking for options.  If I had a dollar for every commitment-phobe guy I’ve met, I could retire today.  Where are all the “real men” with good godly values, are respectful, who know how to treat a lady like a lady and are not afraid to truly pursue a girl?  Really, where are these unicorns being held? I even asked Siri and she replied with raucous laughter.  Alright, alright… I digress.

The thought of being alone is never comforting.  There are nights I’ve woken up in tears over the thought of it.  We are not designed to be alone; however, I wanted to use this time to deepen my spiritual walk as well as get healthier physically and emotionally.

 

As a result, my prayer and meditation practices became stronger than ever.  Although I’ve always done daily devotionals and was listening to online sermons/teachings, I recently starting going back to church, after a three year hiatus, thanks to God’s pressing on my heart and reconnecting with a dear friend.  My spiritual walk is stronger than it's ever been and this would never have been possible if I hadn’t taken the time to bring it back to the forefront of my life.

 

I also got back to the gym and have lost another 15 lbs.  I’m loving the reflection I see in the mirror these days and am working towards getting in even better shape. 

I pushed through a serious depressive episode this summer, which in hindsight, I believe was my mind and soul taking out the garbage with all of the changes I was undergoing.  I am more grounded emotionally, physically and spiritually than I have been in a long time.

I also took stock of my friendships and those in my inner circle.  It’s not until you take the time to quiet the chatter in your life that you realize the need to do some friendship housecleaning.  I had unknowingly been in relationships that were very unhealthy, controlling, toxic and just outright hurtful.  In my desire to be needed or not be alone, I had allowed these relationships and their bad behaviors to manifest themselves in very unhealthy ways. By drawing a line in the sand and letting go of the wrong relationships I was able to make room for right ones to occupy the space they were cluttering up.  I have been beautifully surprised by those whom I now call friend and are part of my inner circle. 

 

This year of transition and pushing myself outside of my comfort zone has been rewarding in insurmountable ways.  There have been moments of tremendous fear and anxiety along the way coupled with great victory through the milestones I was able to reach.  I’m astonished at how amazingly adaptable we humans are when we finally resolve ourselves to the change.  We often distress or bristle during times of great transition; even though we know it’s exactly the direction we should be heading in.  Sometimes we make excuses as to why it’s not good for us or will subconsciously look for a way out. 

I often equate change to wearing a new pair of moccasins.  You’re drawn in by their newness, yet don’t feel their comfort at first.  They sometimes blister making each new step a little awkward and painful.  You want to reach for your old pair because they were familiar and made you feel good when you put them on; but they are tattered and torn and no longer serve their original purpose.  You are now forced to be temporarily uncomfortable in order to move forward.  Then something beautiful happens.  With each step you take forward, you begin to adapt and surrender to the change, and you realize the discomfort was meant to be in order to push you further down the path to your true potential.

 

As I reflect back over this past year, I’m thankful for all of the beautiful disruptions I had the courage to surrender to.  They, in turn, pointed me to the wonderfully rewarding and fulfilling life I am now living and have open the door to the untold possibilities before me. Difficult roads often lead to beautiful destinations.  As such, I can hardly wait to see where 2017 leads!