My co-worker walked in and pointed it out. He said, “Hey, your picture is falling off the wall.” I stopped for a second and looked. A bit astonished at the timing, I let myself recognize the irony … or lack thereof. In only a few moments, I would be having a conversation with my boss and I would have to make a decision in the moment about whether or not I would be telling him that he needed to start thinking about a couple of things differently. 

The truth is, I’d been discerning (which feels like an uber spiritual word) about whether or not I could see myself staying in my current role, and attempting to be a part of leading an organization that in many ways spoke a different language than I had learned. For about a year to date, I had fought, cried, yelled, laughed, resigned, only to get up and do it all over again, week after week. 52 weeks. I’d never worked so hard to decide whether or not to stay in a role, to see if I could elicit some sort of change, to see if I could endure what had grown to be so hard for me. 

A year’s worth of coaching, therapy, venting and going back and forth with what I was feeling in my spirit led to this day. I remember the day before I noticed the falling degree on the wall. I was sitting in a virtual leadership team meeting at a coffee shop in Chicago. After I did my part, I turned my camera and mic off and starred outside. I witnessed the diverse groups of people walk by, all with different styles and each owning how they showed up in the world. As I starred out the window, I had my moment. “I’m released. I’m done.”

I thought back to the conversation I had only months before with a trusted friend. He said, “I don’t think you’re released yet because there is something yet that still needs to happen within you.” “UGH,” I thought. The reason I fought for so long to try and stay is because in many ways I loved my work. I will always love the population I told so many stories about, and I thought I’d settle into this position for awhile. However, I wasn’t prepared for what it would be like to be a female leader in a male dominant organization and the invisible red tape that I would experience. For as much as I tried to massage my message, there was always something wrong with what I said or how I would say it. It took its tole on the way in which I feel called to show up in this world. I remember the week, only a couple of months ago, where it became clear as day that no matter what I did, as long as I was in this context, something would always be wrong. That was a clarifying week. Something fell off of me. Something that prepared me to be released. 

These instances, and many others, prepared me for what I’d felt in my spirit for months – I’d be done by the end of the year. Yet still, the day the degree started falling off the wall, I had a hard time saying what I had to say with finality. Though both me and my boss knew. Both relieved, each for different reasons. 

I have a love-hate relationship with transitions. As I write this, the emotions are still very raw. This didn’t all go according to play, even though I know it’s for the best. I’ve lived enough to know that many things don’t go according to plan and the more I can flow with what is being worked out in me, the better off I’ll be. I’ve also learned that there are many emotions that come during these times. This past week I experienced everything from great sadness and tears, to rejoicing, to panic, to complete exhaustion and sickness, but also contentment and resolve. This past year has taken its tole on me, but I’ve learned so much through it all and have learned a new way; a way that is different from sheer reaction, but is congruent with who I aim to be. I’ve witnessed a woman who seeks clarity, a woman who notices the things like the degree falling off the wall and acknowledges it, and a woman who learns to be OK not being seen as everyone’s cup of tea, but will fight for the things that God has laid on her heart to fight for.

I’m still unsure about what’s next. But, I’m sure about what isn’t.