liberation day
On January 31st, 2017, I was laid off from a job of 16 years that was, almost literally, killing me. The next day, I created the above image in the inside cover of a new art journal. It included this quote:
“For a star to be born, there is one thing that must happen: a gaseous nebula must collapse. So collapse. Crumble. This is not your destruction. This is your birth.”
In the three years since that day, I have marked this anniversary by taking the day to be with myself, to honor the freedom from the things that held me back and celebrate the road less traveled I chose to take. I head to the coast for the day to breathe in the sight and smell and sound of ocean waves and ancient trees as I reflect on where I’ve been and where I’m going, and I acknowledge the work I’ve done to make it possible, the ways I’ve grown and changed to embrace it.
I call it Brittney Liberation Day.
Sal and I choose to live our lives by the motto “that which matters most should never be at the mercy of that which matters least”. In practice, it means that regularly reassessing our priorities is an integral part of our life, and has led to choosing the road less traveled more than once. We’ve learned to trust our instincts rather than bow to the “shoulds” and “supposed tos”. Quality of life is our guiding star.
Which is why, in the months leading up to that day, I had already been contemplating some changes. I’d been dealing with a health issue for more than a year that was getting progressively worse. The word “cancer” had started to come up in the discussions with my doctor as we worked through the cause of my health problems, but I was beginning to suspect the real cause was a job that was eating me alive with prolonged stress, lost sleep, and relentless work hours that left little time or energy for anything else.
During that same time, Sal and I were having important conversations about a realignment to the life we wanted for ourselves: Lives centered around creative pursuits. More time together, less stress, a slower pace. More time for ourselves, for our health and sanity. More time for our community and causes.
The kind of changes we were contemplating needed time to transition our life in order to make them possible: figuring out a course of action, setting aside money, making financial decisions with a big goal in mind. A five year plan. But first, I had a surgery to get through so that I was feeling better and hopefully, remove the word “cancer” from the conversation. Then we could figure out our five year plan.
As I sat there that morning, receiving the news that my position was eliminated, a manila folder laid open on the desk in front of me with documents and forms to sign, shock set in. My ears filled with a rushing sound, my stomach twisted with nausea, my eyes and throat burned with the effort to hold back tears. My body was locked in a battle of fight-flight-or-freeze and my mind raced with a million thoughts and panicked questions.
When it was time to sign the first form, the cacophony inside me stopped like the flip of a switch. I was poised at the edge of something, deciding whether or not to jump. Conscious thought stopped, and some internal survival instinct prompted me to do what I did next.
I took a breath. Deep breath in. Slow breath out. Breathing in calm. Breathing out fear.
That single breath saved me. It gave me the quiet to hear the wisdom of my inner voice and the clarity to understand what I heard. It was one word: Freedom.
It took time to internalize the idea of freedom in all its wonderful, exciting, terrifying potential. I started job hunting right away, and the companies I was interviewing with were interesting and would’ve been great places to work, with some exciting career opportunities. But I was still looking at the same job level I had been in my old job. The work situations were certain to be better than my last one, but there was no guarantee that the jobs themselves wouldn’t require more of me than I wanted to give. I hadn’t yet fully realized why I was hesitant when those offers came.
In between the work of job hunting were stretches of free time that I could fill with the simple luxuries of being fully in my own life, and I leaned into them. Working through things in my art journal, quality time with Sal each day, meeting friends for lunch dates, taking walks in the middle of the day just because I could, catching up on overdue house projects, making some progress on my teetering to-read pile, getting enough rest that I got back in sync with my body’s natural schedule. It was a reminder what freedom feels like.
I had my surgery a month after I was laid off. It went well – no complications, manageable pain, short recovery time. If the test afterward had turned out differently, maybe I would’ve kept thinking in terms of a five year plan. But cancer was still part of the conversation after the test came back, requiring a decision about a second surgery with life-altering consequences and a long recovery. Five years now seemed too long to wait to create the life we wanted.
Together, these two big decisions – a second surgery and a faster timeframe for a major life change – became inextricably linked in heart-deep conversations with Sal and within myself. It meant really thinking about what the life we wanted should look like now, not just later, and a different path for getting there. It meant reconsidering the trajectory of my job search. It meant coming to terms with the significant changes that would require and trusting our ability to navigate it. Most importantly, it meant genuinely embracing the idea that we deserved the life we wanted.
Lots of big decisions came from this shift. The decision to downshift my career was one. The decision to create what would eventually become Wishmoon Studio was another. Sal decided to pursue his own creative venture. I had the second surgery and took the time I needed for the long recovery.
It was scary and incredibly hard, and that first year especially made us question every decision a million times over. Other major, unrelated challenges befell us that year that were significantly more difficult because of this path we were on. The kinds of things that would’ve been easier if I hadn’t opted out of my former career path, and frequently made we wonder if I’d made a huge mistake.
But we knew that we were choosing us and the life we deserve in the way that matters most, and we held on.
It’s been three years since I took that deep breath. I filled the pages of the journal I started with artwork that marked my journey, like signposts to remind me where I started and how I got this far. I finished the last page just before this year’s Liberation Day. We’re not all the way where we want to be yet, but our life is much different than it was then, and it’s a lot closer to what we envision for ourselves. It seemed fitting to complete that journal now.
Looking back, it would be tempting to say, “They did you a favor by letting you go.” They didn’t do me a favor. I didn’t deserve what happened to me, and I definitely didn’t deserve how it happened. I don’t say that with bitterness, but as recognition that the better, contented place that I’m in now is because of what I did with that moment. It was me who turned that moment into liberation, me who chose a different path. I was the one who did the difficult work of healing and growing, and getting through all the days of doubt and second-guessing, wondering if I’d made a huge mistake, if I was being irresponsible, selfish, short-sighted. I was the one who navigated the change in career, and managed my own ego and sense of self-worth in order to make that change work. I was the one who grappled with the fear and anxiety when things were the hardest, and didn’t give up. I was the one who dared to dream instead of letting fear make my choices for me.
I didn’t do any of that alone, of course. I had more than my share of support, encouragement, and help from friends and family. And especially especially especially from my amazing husband, who was, is, and always has been right there with me every step of the way. He made that choice, too, and bolstered me an incalculable number of times when I was close to giving up.
But where I am now isn’t because of some kind of blessing in disguise that someone else bestowed on me. Where I am now is because I chose to make it happen, and kept making that choice even when it was the hardest choice to make.
It takes a tremendous amount of courage to liberate yourself. It takes a lot more than that — resilience and determination, support and encouragement, luck and perseverance, growth and intent, belief in yourself and commitment to a different way of being, every day. It doesn’t always come in the form you expect or in the timeline you anticipate.
I understand that I’m incredibly fortunate that I am where I am, and that I even had the option for it, let alone everything else that had to happen to get me this far. I understand that choosing liberation, if the opportunity even arises, isn’t always an option for everyone for a variety of reasons. We’re all just making our way through this life the best we can, and I’m rooting for you regardless.
But if you do ever find yourself deciding to take that breath, I hope you mark that day on your calendar. Your liberation is worth celebrating.