The Fallout

Have you ever tried to fight against the current of the ocean?
Yeah, that’s what my life felt like.

Nobody really talks about the fallout when things end. Not the pretty version, not the “I bounced back” version. I’m talking about the aftermath when the dust settles and your normal no longer exists.

Nothing prepares you for that kind of shift. For the broken pieces scattered everywhere that you somehow have to gather and make sense of. I wasn’t mentally prepared for my new normal, but there I was, right in the middle of what became one of the toughest and longest battles of my life, mentally and spiritually.

After months of overthinking, replaying everything, and trying to force immediate solutions, I finally reached a place of acceptance. I had to face the reality that something I had spent over 15 years building, my career was gone. And even then, I still wasn’t thinking clearly.

I was so consumed with stress and anxiety that I couldn’t even recognize what I had already survived. Instead of seeing any kind of purpose in what I was going through, I found myself questioning God’s love for me.

There was a period where I stopped talking to Him altogether. I didn’t trust Him. Not with my future, not with my well-being. I felt abandoned like I had been left to sit in lack, in uncertainty, in mental exhaustion.

And the fallout? It wasn’t just emotional. It showed up everywhere.

People would ask if I had found a job yet or heard back from interviews, and I’d be fighting the urge to snap. Interviews were coming, but nothing was sticking. And when I finally accepted an offer, deep down I already knew it wasn’t right for me. It felt too familiar, too close to what I had just lost.

But I took it anyway, thinking I could make it work.

Let me tell you something. Forcing yourself into a space you’re not meant to be in will humble you in ways you didn’t see coming. Mentally, it will check you every single time.

What I’ve come to understand is this, when you finally allow yourself to be still, you start to hear differently. You start to see differently.

And in that stillness, I felt God nudging me to slow down. To breathe. To give myself grace.

But even then, my mind was loud. All I could think about was how I was going to provide, how I was going to sustain my family. That fear will have you gripping control like your life depends on it.

And if I’m honest, control has always been my thing.

I like plans. I like structure. I like knowing what’s next. I used to say I hated surprises, but what I really hated was the possibility of something not going perfectly.

There’s a level of arrogance in thinking we have that kind of control over our lives. I can admit that now.

Learning to accept what is and letting go of the need to control every outcome. That’s been one of the hardest lessons for me. But it’s also been one of the most necessary.

Because sometimes the storm isn’t there to destroy you.
Sometimes it’s there to break your grip on things you were never meant to control in the first place.

So I’m learning. Slowly, but intentionally.

What has helped you get through some of the hardest moments in your life?