Owning the narrative

A friend reached out to me recently to say she missed my blog. It encouraged her when she read it. In truth, it encouraged me to write it.

I'd like to say my silence here has been about just being too busy and happy to stop and reflect. But the truth is, I didn't know how to come back to this place of raw honesty when I have been sitting on a lie.

In October 2019, something very important to me was taken. Some of you know what I'm talking about - or think you do. But the truth is that what was taken from me wasn't a position or a career or a planned future. It was my voice. My truth.

A year and a half ago, I was unexpectedly given the very painful choice to step down from my position or be fired. In business terms, we call this a "demotion." But it was important to them that it was my choice. I was instructed very plainly to not be honest about this. "Own the narrative," they told me. "This is the best thing for you, and the college. It's a better fit." 

There's a lot to say about how this happened, and why. I could say a lot about it being unjustified. I could point out this happened to me despite not ever being written up or placed on an improvement plan. That I had to face vague complaints and accusations I was never allowed to address or fix. I could rant about the unfairness of putting a first-time supervisor in an untenable staffing situation and then expecting them to succeed, with no training, no support.

I wanted to do all that then.

But I couldn't.

I knew deeply that the only way I was getting through this was to be very, very silent. So I showed up at staff meetings. I posted happy status updates about how I was so excited to refocus back on feature writing in my new role. I spent an entire weekend at a conference with the two people who had done this, and smiled through every dinner and feigned excitement about the possibilities for a department I was no longer leading. I watched them post my job on the "help wanted" bulletin board.

I never felt so alone.

And yet, I was never alone.

Beyond the cliche "God is with me," God went out of his way to make sure I knew that OTHERS were with me, too.

A colleague surprised me during a meeting with "Congratulations on the new position!" And my face spoke all the truth before I could stop it. She cornered me later, "Hey .... I'm here you for you if you need to talk about it." 

I never took her up on that, but it meant everything that I could.

Few people got to know the raw angry pain of my situation. Those who did shared their own pain and vulnerability with me. I found new friends. I also found opportunities to learn, to explore the ways in which I had failed, to challenge myself. I embarked on intensive therapy, dealing with long-seeded issues. I leaned in to me.

I allowed my pain to be a catalyst for change. And I allowed my silence to speak for itself. 

Before quitting my job for a brand new industry, I struggled. Was I giving up on what God wanted to teach me? Had I learned the lesson? I don't ever want a repeat of what I went through there. Was I abandoning God's plan for me?

God has to constantly remind me that his plan for me is not career-specific. As I left Walla Walla, I found how I had been able to be a bridge to build connections and relationships among others. I saw how my faith had inspired those around me. 

And I heard from colleagues, who had spent a year piecing together the truth.

"I don't know how you did it."

"I never understood why they did that to you."

"You handled that better than anyone could possibly have done."

My silence felt unnaturally to me, but it was also a revelation. My words aren't the only thing that speaks. My life speaks, too. And in that season it spoke not of my strength - but God's. Let me assure you, it was a horrible time. I cried. I felt hopeless. I felt despair. At moments I wanted the earth to swallow me up. 

But God held me. And my husband held me. And strangers who became friends reached out to me. And though I was silent, I was not alone.

I am now on the other side of this pain, and I'm ready to stop being silent. I can't let the fear of judgement silence my voice anymore.

Friends, you are not alone. Whatever it is you're facing, whatever has been taken from you, you aren't alone. God is with you.

And so am I.