Restoration in a Name Tag and a Schedule

Sometimes healing doesn’t look like yoga retreats and quiet mornings.
Sometimes, it looks like clicking “submit” on a job application you didn’t expect to fill out.

That’s how this new job started for me.

The timing didn’t make sense. We were still in the middle of a cross-country move. I was still recovering physically and emotionally. My marriage was in transition. The burnout hadn’t lifted. And yet—when I saw that job listing, something inside me clicked. I didn’t think it through, I didn’t weigh the pros and cons. I just hit submit.

And then I got the interview.
And then I nailed it.
And then the real doubts crept in.

Was I ready? Was this smart? Would it pay enough? Would it cost me the healing I was barely starting to taste?

But something in me said yes.
And that yes changed everything.

I went back to work—and something magical happened.

Not hustle. Not performance. Not people-pleasing.

Just… contribution. Routine. The kind of schedule that grounds you.
The kind of validation that reminds you what you’re good at.
The kind of leadership that actually respects you.

I didn’t realize how much of my burnout was wrapped up in the drama of work.
In being micromanaged. Manipulated. Seen but not truly supported.
In having to dress it up every day like it was a social performance instead of a job.

This new job has none of that.
It’s steady. It’s clear. My boss is kind—truly kind, not performative or controlling.
And for the first time in a long time, work feels like a safe place to land.

I’m remembering who I am.
I’m remembering what I bring to the table.
Not just emotionally, but professionally. Strategically. Creatively.

And all at once, I understand why I hit submit that day.
My nervous system knew before I did: this was what I needed.

Sometimes, rebuilding starts in the most unlikely places.
Not when everything is perfectly lined up, but when something inside you whispers, Try anyway.

And I’m so glad I listened.