It Happened

It happened more than once.  The feeling of dismay would wash over me as I sat in my car on the parkway.  I tried to chase it away with KLove's Encouraging Story of the Day or a loud and unashamed car jam session.  I wrote lists of things that made me happy, reasons to be grateful and fun things I was planning to fit into my day.  It happened more than once that I was unsuccessful in chasing away that feeling.

It happened more than once that I allowed my emotions to get the best of me, that I allowed someone else's words, actions and opinions to matter entirely too much.  I began to question my worth, my ability and my purpose.  I started to dwell for far too long in the negative space created by people who were angry and bitter and just plain small and mean.  I lost my temper quickly.  I lashed out at the very people I was clinging to for positivity.  I oscillated between being very quiet and withdrawn and being full of rage that was usually misdirected.

It happened more than once that all of that manifested itself into an intense shame that I couldn't seem to shake.  It stuck to me like the stale stench of a coffeehouse.  It seemed to taunt me, this shame.  I started listening to its insults.  I'm not good enough.  I'll never find something or some place that's better.  No one really wants me to be on their team.

It happened more than once.

And then something else happened.  Well, not quite as simply as that five word sentence would make it seem.  It took a lot of time for me to get out of my own way, to quiet the voices that told me nasty things.  It took amazing friends and unwavering family members to remind me that those voices were full of crap.  It took effort to shun the shame and stand tall.

It took months to feel like I could and should look elsewhere.  It took longer than that to find something that made sense.  It took many late nights, angrily firing off resumes, applying for anything that sounded remotely reasonable and praying (literally, truly, deeply praying) that someone, somewhere would want me.  Validate me.  Remind me that I am capable and all the other things I had been questioning for a while.

It happened.  I got a call.  And an interview.  And interest and enthusiasm.  I got compliments about my work.  I got questions about how I could help a new team.  I got positive feedback and engagement from leaders I immediately respected.  It happened.

So then it had to happen that I resigned from the job I had for more than 8 years.  It happened with one conversation, one short letter and one sentence I uttered with a mix of disbelief and pride along with a dash of uncertainty.

Beginnings can't happen without something else ending, right?  In the same way that hot air mixing with cold air produces a clap of thunder, so too do the emotions of something this big create a certain kind of storm.  The excitement about a new, fresh start clashing with the sadness that comes from leaving something I've known for so long.  My team.  My volunteers.  My sense of familiarity.

And it happened.  In the process of becoming new, the adjustment knocked me way off track.  Nothing was what it was--the nature of new, right?  And nothing felt normal....at all.  My workouts went by the wayside, much to my disappointment.  I felt myself slipping away as it was all I could do to keep up with a fun Arms & Abs Challenge---not exactly my normal routine.  My commutes were wonky, my parking situation kind of crazy and the "New Girl" moniker felt as if it'd be permanent.

I had a couple meltdowns as I sat in traffic, the idea of all I was missing at home sitting on my heart like an anchor.  The idea that I wasn't pulling my weight only harder to accept than the idea that I was sure I wasn't appreciating Mark, my parents and my girls for all that they were doing to smooth the bumps of this transition.

And it happened.  My new team embraced me as if I was a long lost friend.  The atmosphere felt instantly different.  The work ahead of me feels every bit as important as the work I left behind, and the partners every bit as committed.  I knew I would be able to contribute.  I knew that my contributions would be welcomed and encouraged.  I knew that others saw, in me, what I either couldn't or wouldn't see until now.  And on that kind of faith and belief, I began to walk taller and prouder.

And it happened.  May 1st.  Today is the day I am starting to feel more like myself.  And it's fitting, too.  It's a new day, a new week and a new month.  Slate doesn't get much cleaner than that, does it?  

I got a workout in this morning.  Yes, it was a Sunday, so I had the time.  But tomorrow is a Monday--and I'll make that time.  This morning I remembered how amazing it feels to get in a killer workout.  I felt strong.  I felt happy.  I felt determined and successful.  Who wouldn't want to start their day/week like that!?

I'm dedicating this month to all things aMAYzing.  And that, I've decided, includes me.  It includes my ability to crash & burn, but come back stronger.  It includes my ability to be vulnerable, to remember that HELP is not a four-letter word and to recognize each and every silver lining that exists.  aMAYzing means doing my best, not THE best.  It means letting go of some control, leaning on people a little more than normal and allowing myself enough grace. 

I would challenge you to embrace--and share!--your aMAYzing, too.  What's aMAYzing about you?  About your friends and family?  About your work?  I'd love to hear it.  Feel free to message me and tell me your aMAYzing things.  In my humble opinion, there simply cannot ever be too much aMAYzing!