Things change
On the pain of transformation
I went skating with my friend Drew on Friday night. We’re both “retired high school figure skaters,” as she hilariously called us — meaning we’re no noobs — but I haven’t been on the ice in at least five years so I was expecting a little rust.
And rust there was. While the wobbles wore off quickly, I soon discovered my feet no longer fit comfortably in my skates — they, like me, have changed since having a baby. And it was painful as hell.
I tied my skates tight like I always have, and within minutes my feet were cramping up and crying out. And my hip flexors? Lord have mercy on those. They ached like they’d never met exercise.
I thought about giving up — we could have glided off the ice, had some hot chocolate, and called it a good night — but I felt determined to keep going. Persisting through the temporary pain would get me to that blissful feeling on the other side.
I took a minute. I loosened my skates. And then I made progress: After coaxing myself back onto the ice, I skated for an hour. I absolutely had some aches and pains, but mostly just a lot of joy.
Another thing happened to me this week: I lost my job. I was among the 8% of journalists cut from Business Insider.
I spent most of the first day crying and then had a pounding headache for two days straight. But I noticed something incredible, too: My network showed up. From thoughtful notes checking in to offers of freelance work, I’ve been blanketed in love and support. I have been touched — buoyed — by this. Deeply.
In the immediate aftermath of losing my job I felt like I was nothing. But the vast, immediate support and encouragement I received turned that thinking around real quick. I (darkly) told my husband yesterday that it’s been like attending my own funeral — people from all parts of my life have showered me with commendations, singing my praises in public posts or sharing privately how much of an impact I’ve had on their professional lives.
If you’ll indulge me, I’d like to share one note that really impacted me.
I edited and published this writer’s essay over four years ago when I was still new to Business Insider. It was a big deal at the time — it drove millions of pageviews and also proved to my team that covering money through an intersectional lens worked. I knew it mattered to the writer, too, but I was moved to learn of its ongoing impact. That is why I’ve always done this work: to help people; to make the make the world a little brighter; to lift others up. To know that’s really happening is affirming.
I have no idea how I’m going to feel once the workweek gets underway tomorrow and I have no team to manage or project to review or story to edit. But I am trying to think about this time like skating: I’m different now, so it’s going to be painful, maybe for a good long while, but somewhere on the other side — bliss, or something like it. In the meantime I’m repeating these words: Keep going. Try. Push through when you can. Rest when you need to. You’ll survive.