We shed old stories about ourselves as we grow into our new selves.This is a process, and it’s not always clear as it’s happening. But often there’s a moment where the old story doesn’t feel good to tell anymore. It’s not cathartic. It’s uncomfortable.
As an elementary school teacher, my days consisted of lesson plans, laughter, and inquisitive questions by ten-year-olds. But when I hit burnout, I decided to make a change. I woke up to find myself in a cubicle with coffee and my computer, by myself with my thoughts.
I lost my voice for an entire year. From Wednesday evening to Friday morning, I whispered my way through my days as an elementary school teacher. By Saturday, I’d be on house arrest because speaking at all was painful. No talking on the phone. No hello’s to my roommates (I literally had signs in