On December 17, 2021, after I sent my last goodbye email and had my last tearful goodbye meeting - I shut down my company laptop for the last time. I slowly got up from my office chair and walked into the kitchen. My husband Anthony was standing at the sink, looking at me with knowing eyes. This was it. The day we’d been anticipating for months - it was finally here. 

He wrapped me in his arms like he’s done thousands of times, and I felt the familiar rise of tears as the reality of the moment started to settle in. Yes, this is what I wanted, and yes, it hurt. 

I had just let go of something I loved.

I’m not sure if it’s possible to fall in love with a company, but if it is, then I was head over heels. I know it seems crazy, but it’s true. The company was more than just a business to me, and my work was more than just a job. It became the place I trusted enough to bring out my best self, the place I found my community, the place I felt seen at work for the first time, and the place I was recognized and rewarded beyond my wildest dreams for doing my best work. And I did - I did the best work of my life at this company. For 10 years, I gave it everything I had, with all the love I had, and for the love of the Team Members. The company had become a huge part of my world; the way I served others; the way I shared love and received love from my community; the way I made an impact. 

Anthony helped me as I began gently packing up all my company items; laptop, webcam, phone, and so on, making sure everything was secure and would find its way back to Austin whole. On the drive to the UPS store, I remember being in a state of stunned disbelief. Logically, I knew what was happening, but mentally, I wasn’t sure how to process it. 

I handed the box over to the woman at the UPS store, with the pre-addressed label already neatly affixed, and then she simply scanned it, and said, “ok, you are all set.” 

And that was that.

There I was, standing at the beginning of my new life, with every possible path at my feet.

In the weeks that followed, I was visited by frequent waves of uneasiness. For the first time in a very long time, all I could see was uncertainty. I had let go of my position in the world, and a major part of my identity. The career I had wanted more than anything, and spent 10 years building, was gone. And I had done this to myself. All for a distant dream, a deep longing that there was something else I still needed to do in this lifetime. I should have been elated.

After all, I was finally free. I could do whatever I wanted to do; be whatever I wanted to be, right? 

In theory, yes, but in practice, I had no idea who that was or what the hell I wanted to do. What was painfully obvious, was that the path forward would not look like the path I walked over the past 10 years. You know, the one that had become well-worn, comfortable, and familiar. The path filled with the security of structure, expectations, and support. That path was clear, and I could trust that every step I took was getting me one step closer to my destination. Well, this path had no destination, and without that, I couldn’t even begin to plan. This time, there would be no hundred-point plan to rely on. There would only be one foot in front of the other, one moment at a time, and the kicker was, I would have to trust. 

Cue sick feeling in the stomach.

But just as the uneasiness threatened to take over, that’s when I began to sense something new coming into my awareness. I didn’t know what it was at the time, but something was attempting to calm me down, to soothe my uneasiness. It was gently reminding me that it was ok not to know. It came to me as a subtle knowing, and it came at all different times: in the quiet moments between waking and rising; in the lyrics of a song I loved; in the way my husband looked at me.

Uncertainty. Trust. Uncertainty. Trust. This was a dance my mind would come to know well in the months that followed.

I knew I had to surrender. The uneasiness wasn’t just going to go away because there simply was not going to be any certainty coming any time soon. So, if I was going to make it through this, and even get to a new level of thriving, I knew I needed to figure out how to accept that this chapter was closed. To surrender and trust. 

Trust who though? God? I mean, did I really believe in God? I thought I did, but I wasn’t certain. Maybe I did, but did I really believe enough to leave this all in God’s hands? I just didn’t know. 

But nevertheless, it was time. There was nothing left to do but to trust that I made the right choice. Trust that it would all work out. Trust that what I was seeking was also seeking me. 

Please God, let it be seeking me.