I Lost My Job…

A few months ago, after a long 2-year project I had been part of, involving consulting companies, flights back and forth to Orlando, and countless hours of work, I found out my position was being eliminated.

My position, which I have grown into over the last 10 years, will be reallocated, and I will have to reapply for another job internally if I want to stay.

I never in my wildest dreams thought I would be in this position.

My job has been a bit of a dream job: working remotely, getting to do what I love, and also being available for my kids. Getting to travel often and even take friends and family; it has been an amazing gift.

It felt like the most perfect fit. I often would tell people I don’t feel like I work; I just feel like I get to be me!

I now feel like I am in hospice care; I know the death is coming, but I don’t have a timeline for when.

I don’t have any answers about when my job will officially be over. And I have to eventually pass my responsibilities to others, and then hope something becomes available to me at the right moment. Whenever that may be.

In addition to the news of my job, I have also been in the midst of a really hard season with my kiddos. I can tell you the anguish of being a parent and not knowing what to do, how to navigate forward, what choices to make, or when to do it, brings you to the end of yourself.

It has all felt the same: the uncomfortable pain of ambiguity. And you just have to wait and endure. And humans don’t like waiting.

I cannot tell you how many times I have said, “I don’t know,” in the last 6 months as people have asked me questions about the timelines, or “What’s next?”, or “What are you going to do?”

I have felt like a broken record: “I don’t know.” “I don’t know.” “I don’t know.”

It is extremely uncomfortable.

Recently, I have been reading and sharing from the book Strong Ground by Dr. Brené Brown. It is through Brené that I have learned so much about becoming healthy and whole.

Brené has dedicated her life to helping people live wholeheartedly. What her research has uncovered is how wholehearted living requires us to be able to integrate, endure, and accept ALL aspects of life.

Our natural reaction as humans is to try to get rid of, or escape, the hard, sad, painful, uncomfortable parts of life.

Brené teaches that we have to stay in it and not numb it away, drink it away, eat it away, spiritualize it away, gamble it away, medicate it away, avoid it, ignore it, or refuse to accept it. We have to live through it, feel it, and be uncomfortable.

There is a muscle that we need to strengthen; most of us are really, really weak in this area as humans, and it is called “Negative Capability.”

“Negative Capability” is our ability to “stay in uncertainty, mystery and doubt and remain curious without any irritable grasping or reaching after facts and reason to substantiate our assumptions.”

It means resisting the urge to try to explain away that which we do not understand. It is being able to rest in doubt.

Brené continues:

“Our entire culture is defined by irritable and hostile reaching. And if we can’t find facts and reason strong enough to rescue us from our uncertainty, we just make up what we need in order to feel safe, then confirm that fiction in our ideologically curated corner of social media.”

“Negative Capability is a difficult muscle to build. We’re wired to resolve tension and seek certainty. The capability requires the courage to reach inward toward stillness rather than out toward counterfeit facts and reason.”

Inward stillness vs. outward reaching.

I was watching a James Bond movie, where he and another character were about to dive into a body of water with only a small amount of oxygen to get them to their destination. One of the characters said to the other,

“When you hit the water, stay as still as possible. Do not move unless you have to, as you will lose unnecessary oxygen.”

That moment fascinated me, and I’ve taken the principle into running and life. As I run in the heat and other natural elements, I remind myself to stay still, not to move all over the trail but to stay straight and steady. Any unnecessary movement uses precious energy.

As I have encountered many hard life-changing decisions, I have used the same concept. I believe life has a way of revealing itself in due time. The path becomes clear, the next step is illuminated, and your intuition, or that still, small voice, speaks.

But I have learned this lesson the hard way many times.

One experience that stands out is when I was pregnant with my first child. I spent the nine months preceding his birth worrying about what to do next.

Should I stay home or work full-time? What about insurance? Can we afford it? My list of worries went on and on. But at the right moment, every piece became crystal clear.

After the baby was born, I had a meeting with my boss to discuss options. I left the meeting, and the voice inside my heart said,

“It is time to go.”

It was so clear. It was so loud. I had spent nine months worrying and fretting for no reason; I was now completely at peace.

There was no question, no second-guessing, and no more confusion. At the right moment, the path was illuminated in such a bright and brilliant way that it could not be denied.

My dear, what I want for you and me is that we might learn to stay still until it’s time to move.

That we might not exert unnecessary energy on “what ifs” and “maybe-so’s.” That when we find ourselves with a mind spinning through ideas and solutions, and trying to figure out what the next step or “right” decision might be, the reminder, “Don’t move unless you have to,” might bring us back to a grounded place.

That we might stay put, stay steady, and move only if we must.

When you hear the directive or see the path, it’s then time to go. The rest is just a waste of time and precious energy.

Let’s reach inward towards stillness and strengthen our muscle to hold the uncertain places in our lives.

To be still and know that we can rest, the one who made the stars does not sleep or slumber, nor toil or spin, and therefore I can lay my head down and close my eyes while the architect of the universe works all things out for my good.

From My Heart To Yours,