Three words: Jenni’s Story
“She took the leap and built her wings on the way down.”
~ Kobi Yamada
The other day Jenni came into the studio with a new painting to show me. It was rich in color, it was sort of galactic with its swath of iridescent glitter and a hint of a rainbow.
Jenni’s wall is covered in paintings these days. So is her art table. Lately, she’s been spending her evenings painting. That is, when she’s not practicing her tap dancing. Or designing a new sewing pattern.
Hard to believe that last year this time Jenni was miserable. And her life lacked any kind of glitter at all.
Jenni was stuck in a toxic job situation. It was well past the “Danger! Danger, Will Robinson!” level. ⚠️
We often talked about her leaving it. Especially after the meeting where her boss screamed at her in front of her team—who just sat there, silently (probably praying they wouldn’t be next).
In June she said, “I need to wait until I have another job.”
She talked about the bills and her aging parents and the job market. She looked wrung out.
In July I asked how the job hunt was going. But she was so burnt out she'd had no energy to actually contact headhunters, go to interviews, or even imagine a new situation. How can anyone do all that at once?
But when I asked her about her dreams for herself? Even the pie-in-the-sky, audacious ones? Her eyes sparkled just like the glitter paint covered art journal pages she made in my studio.
So in September after she told me another harrowing story about her job, and after I asked, “When are you leaving?” and after she said (again), “I need to wait until I have another job” … I said, “No you don’t.”
“No, you don’t. You don’t need to wait until you have another job.”
And she just looked at me. Her eyes got very big. And I think she may have even blushed.
I said, “Jenni, you don’t have to have the next thing lined up before you get out of this terrible thing you’re in. Imagine what it would be like to leave this job, take the space to find yourself—to breathe—and from there decide what you want to do next.”
In November Jenni gave notice at her job. And she did it on her terms.
That day, when she came home, she went straight to her art table. It was already covered with art supplies, ready and waiting for her. She started to paint. With glitter.
She told me recently that it was that one sentence that made the difference. "No, you don't."
From inside that job there was so much noise she couldn't hear herself think, let alone hear her wordless heart speak. She couldn't imagine a future because all her energy was going toward surviving the present.
Jenni says it was that one sentence. I think it was something a little different...I think my words simply interrupted the fear long enough for Jenni to hear herself. And what she heard was the permission she'd been waiting to give herself all along.
Her wordless heart said,"Leap."
Has it been a while since you've heard your own wordless heart?
