So much can happen in a year.
Time flies when you’re having fun.
It’s true, at least in my own experience, but it doesn’t feel quite complete. Time flies whether you’re having fun or not. Time can also simultaneously fly by and stand still and that, my friends, is where I’ve been. I’ve been steadily working through a professional, emotional, and spiritual time warp and I spent the last year slowly emerging from the proverbial ashes (though that feels a bit dramatic).
How did I get there?
I’ve been reflecting for a long time on balancing the freedom I have to share my story and the freedom others have to keep their stories private. That’s why I haven’t written much publicly for the past two years (that and I was finishing seminary and a spiritual direction certificate). If you follow me on Instagram, you’ve been able to keep up a little with some of the changes. Honestly, there’s so much I could share. Nuance matters and some of the details might help make this post make more sense. Now that there are three hundred sixty-five days between who I am today and who I was, I want to shed light on the hidden parts of my journey and work through a significant transition, not rehash or divulge the nitty gritty details. This post is my best effort at sharing my story and no one else’s, so bear with me as I dust off this keyboard and remember what grammar is.
It’s been nearly two years since I passed my real estate exam. I remember having butterflies for the first time in a long time after I read my results. I felt like anything was possible, but I wasn’t certain what the future would look like. I knew it involved expansion, newness, freedom, and wholeness—which, for me, meant a wind of change, or maybe the Spirit of God, was stirring something inside of me.
I was working full-time as a licensed executive assistant to a niche real estate team during the day and dreaming of a different future in the evenings. You may recall from another post that originally, I decided to pursue my license to provide more robust support to my team as they endured some significant challenges. After getting my license, that’s exactly what I did. Over time, my support work evolved into a much more significant role—one that I did not anticipate or ask for. One for which there seemed to be no end in sight. One that slowly started putting pressure on my physical, mental, and spiritual health.
This is the point where time began to stand still. I felt torn between two worlds—the world of supporting others’ dreams and livelihood, and the world of supporting my own. Leaving either felt like a betrayal. Would I betray my team or myself?
Have you ever put a decision off so long that it made itself? For approximately nine months, I wrestled with the idea of leaving what had become an unhealthy work environment. As the months passed, the choice became clear, and staying put made me increasingly uncomfortable, yet I could not force myself to go. It was mostly fear of the unknown, but I chalked it up to compassion—how could I leave them during this time? What kind of Jesus-follower would I be if I left? It took a while, but the real question eventually emerged:
What kind of Jesus-follower would I become if I stayed?
We can only do so much before something gives. Well, something gave: my health. I had been experiencing unexplained anxiety and issues with digestion. I felt tension in my shoulders and tightness in my chest. I wasn’t sleeping well and my mind was fixated on things that I couldn’t change—things that weren’t mine to carry. I became so stressed I was clenching my teeth in my sleep and eventually, I cracked two molars. That was the moment I realized that my body had decided what I could not. It was time to go.
After I decided to resign from my position as executive assistant, I reached out to my closest friends. Not one of them chastised me for waiting too long. Not one of them started laying into my team for how things had gone. Their concern was for my well-being in the process of leaving. They celebrated my decision, which they knew I would eventually make, they affirmed my value as a person, they acknowledged my contributions to my team, and reassured me they’d be there with me every step of the way. I also imagine they were tired of hearing about the stress I experienced daily (it’s okay, I was tired of talking about it).
Leaving well became very important to me. I began reflecting on my previous questions, “What kind of Jesus follower would I be if I left?” and “What kind of Jesus follower would I become if I stayed?” Leaving well mattered to me, not just for my sake, but for theirs as well. I loved what I helped create there and I didn’t want to see it go up in flames. I wanted them to continue on, just not with me.
In the days immediately after resigning, I crafted an exit strategy that allowed me to leave on terms that were healthy and kind toward myself and allowed my compassion for my team to remain in tact. I didn’t hate them, I cared for them. My decision to leave wasn’t just for me, it was for them too.
In my letter of resignation, which was clear, kind, and brief, I let them know I’d stay on until my kids started school nine weeks later. Yes, you read that correctly, and it would be a very long nine weeks. There were some significant projects going and under the circumstances, leaving sooner felt unkind. In hindsight, I wish I would have left much sooner, but it wasn’t all a loss. In that nine weeks, I became aware of a few things:
I overestimated my ability to be present when I had already decided to move on. I didn’t check out, but I never checked back in fully.
I had very unhealthy boundaries and took on too much in my tenure there. It made it harder to leave from an operational standpoint—there were so many loose ends to tie up. Some loose ends were never tied up and had to be gently set down.
I underestimated the universe’s ability to throw multiple curveballs into a short time span. Things went awry starting the day after I submitted my resignation, which complicated things and made the entire process more painful for everyone.
On my last day, my replacement and I were sitting at what would now be her desk and her computer finalizing a few last-minute things. If a dragon suddenly flew into that office, I would have been less shocked than I was by what actually happened. The computer, and literally every system associated with it, shut down. I spent over an hour on the phone with our IT department to no avail. All my efforts to leave well evaporated into thin air and I had to walk out of there knowing I left things unwell, my replacement unprepared, and my immediate future uncertain. I walked to my car, got in, shut the door, and cried.
The following Monday, I got in my car and drove to my new office. For the first time in my life, I had decided that being a career real estate agent was what I wanted to pursue. I worked for myself now. I was at the same brokerage, but I had a new office location, new colleagues, and an empty calendar. The events of the Friday before weighed heavily on my shoulders, and even though I was now working for myself and was beginning to feel the pressures of being fully commission based, I felt lighter.
Before leaving, I set some clear boundaries:
My replacement could call and ask for help when she got stuck, but I limited my availability to certain hours.
I committed to myself that I would not feel obligated to answer the phone or respond immediately, rather I would leave time for my replacement to figure it out on her own.
I would not share the nitty gritty details of my departure with everyone who asked about it, rather I committed to sharing the truth that it was no longer a good fit.
I admit that for the first month, it was challenging to honor my own boundaries.
Some people had known about the complicated circumstances surrounding my inevitable departure, so their questions were hard to dodge, but I did my best not to disparage my team. It was a slippery slope and a daily struggle. I had to remind myself that I cared for them even if they didn’t have the capacity to reciprocate the same level of care.
My replacement called multiple times a day for the first couple of weeks, which created a new set of challenges. It was tempting to step in and handle things for her, but I knew that was a self-serving and self-protective response. I couldn’t continue to work for them and I couldn’t control the narrative around my unwillingness to save the day.
On multiple occasions, I received tearful phone calls and had to act as a pseudo counselor. Things had gotten messy since I left and without going into any details, continuing to take these calls was an overwhelming experience. I sensed my capacity for empathy and compassion was diminishing. Continuing to take these calls was not helping, it was hurting. That was a hard pill to swallow.
It took a while, probably a couple of months, to really start to feel free from the chaos. On one phone call with my former boss, I took the opportunity to restate my boundaries and also apologize for not fully honoring them myself, which set a bad example. From that day forward, things slowly began to settle down and I started to settle into my new normal.
It’s been one year since I left. I’ve implemented some practices and rhythms that have carried me through this season. These practices and rhythms have helped me find healing and have kept me from shutting down.
Meeting with my spiritual director every month. In our meetings, we talk about where I see God moving in my life and where I feel disconnected. We explore the ways my spiritual journey informs and intersects with my professional journey. It has been a transformational practice for me over the last three years and remains a place where my curiosity is welcomed and celebrated.
Keeping a regular work schedule. I no longer report to a boss, I report to myself. I’m responsible for getting the work done that ultimately contributes to my success and the wellbeing of my family. I have a solid morning routine that helps me transition into work mode and I have a flexible afternoon that allows me to tend to the needs of myself and my family.
Cultivating a community of diverse colleagues. Since becoming an independent agent, I’ve met a lot more people and have had the opportunity to connect in different ways. I’ve found a group of like-minded women and men who genuinely care about our community and mutual success. We’ve found ways to stay connected and hold each other accountable.
My reasons for leaving are still valid and I’m grateful I found the courage to walk away. I’m also grateful for the wise voices in my personal and professional life that have encouraged me to keep the door open on my own terms. While I no longer work for my team, we have remained in touch. We’ve even worked together on a few different occasions and for that I’m grateful. After some time and separation, I’ve discovered that our relationships are healthier and we all genuinely desire our mutual flourishing in life and business.
While I’ve held to the truth that I’ve always wanted to see my team flourish, there was a season, especially at the end of my tenure there, where my compassion and empathy were tainted with bitterness and resentment. The circumstances that brought about my need to resign were hard, not just for me, but for my entire team. The challenges we faced were affecting all of our lives and it seemed like nothing was ever going to get better. Something had to change. I had to make the hard decision to leave and step out in faith, trusting that God had always been with me and would continue to go with me.
As I wrap up, I wanted to share a few truths that have grounded me in the past year:
My presence and the work I did on the team mattered. Just because I left doesn’t mean my time and energy served no purpose.
God didn’t make my work situation go awry to teach me a lesson; sometimes things just happen and we have the ability to make meaning from our own experiences.
God is working in me to bring about my transformation and flourishing for my own benefit and for the sake of others. I can desire the best for my team even though I have no desire to work for them anymore.
I just got back from a showing with one of my former team members. It was a great showing and it was so good to see him. We hugged and I absolutely meant it when I said I look forward to seeing him again soon. It’s incredible to me how much has changed and how much has remained the same.
Time flies whether you’re having fun or not, but today, just for a moment, time stood still. In that moment, I held it all: everything that happened, all of the healing that has taken place, all the bumps in the road. I held it all while God held us both, and it was beautiful.
If you’re in the middle of a spiritual, professional, or personal time warp, I hope you sense God’s presence. I hope you know it won’t always feel this way. I hope you reach out to your family and friends for help. I hope you find the courage to take the next right step in love and in faith.
