This blog began as a way for me to process grief after the death of my dearest friend in 2011. For six years it provided a place for me to write and rant and make new friends. During that time, I wrote constantly. When I wasn’t writing, I volunteered with several non-profits. In 2013, I decided to go back to school so that I could equip myself to solve a problem I had discovered, which was that many non-profit organizations lack effective leadership.
In 2016, I graduated. I was on a mission. I gave public talks about what I had learned during my study abroad in Romania. I reached out to people in public service. I applied for jobs in the non-profit and public sectors. I briefly served as interim Executive Director for an organization that had been wickedly mismanaged. A couple of other dead-end gigs with non-profits and dozens of job applications later, it was clear that I needed to pivot my job search back to the corporate sector.
Rejection and disappointment had negatively impacted me. One day in 2017, I stopped writing. My heart was no longer in it. I felt like I was in hell. It’s important to note that there are two hells. The public one of shared horrors, which too many are experiencing every day. This hell is vast and virulent. Then there is the private one. This hell is subtle, singular in purpose to devour you from the inside out.
I did the only thing I could. I went to Canada. It was only a short visit over the 4th of July weekend, but so restorative was that cool Canadian vibe that upon my return, I was refreshed enough to surf the internet. Low and behold, the perfect job had landed square in my LinkedIn feed. Almost exactly one year into my fabulous new job, I was furloughed due to the very public hell we are all sharing at the moment.
And so, here I am, once again, blogging to process grief.