I walked into this new job I have now with hope in my hands. I thought I had finally found it—my niche. A space where I could be myself, offer my gifts, and serve with integrity. But what I quickly came to realize is something I’ve known for a long time, though I wish it weren’t true:
Some environments are designed to reject the very presence of authenticity.
They don’t have to say it outright. The message is delivered in sighs, silent treatments, stonewalls, withheld help, and cold stares. It’s felt in the undercurrent—the way people flinch at your light, or withdraw because they sense you see more than you’re “supposed” to.
And once again, I find myself here.
Swimming in waters that want me to sink.
Navigating systems that never planned to offer support.
Being “trained” in silence.
Learning to discern who’s truly blind… and who’s pretending to be.
When Asking Questions Becomes a Threat
I’ve always asked questions—not to challenge authority, but to understand. It’s part of how my brain works. It’s part of how I do my job well. But here, my questions have become liabilities. I’m told I ask too many. That I should “figure it out.” That I’m difficult (often said in a joking way, of course, but I know the truth).
The truth?
I’m not difficult. I’m thorough. I’m thoughtful. I’m unwilling to play dumb just to make others feel comfortable.
But in this space, thoroughness is seen as threat.
Clarity is interpreted as critique.
And my desire to learn is twisted into accusations of disruption.
Untrained, Unsupported, Unshaken
My onboarding was a whisper. My instructions, vague. I was expected to understand systems no one explained. And now, I’m expected to carry responsibilities no one properly handed me. In any other context, this would be negligence. But in toxic workplaces, it’s strategy.
Sink or swim.
Flounder or fake it.
Drown, or become something greater than they expected.
What they didn’t realize is: I’ve bellowed through storms greater than this.
I’ve survived places that wanted me small.
And each time, I came out with more wisdom, more power, and more resolve.
Not a Quitter—A Releaser
People mistake leaving for quitting. But I’ve learned the sacred art of releasing.
I don’t abandon missions.
I complete assignments.
And when the Spirit whispers, “It’s time,”—I go.
I’m not sure how long I’ll be here. But I know this: I’m learning everything I can. Not because they deserve it, but because I do. I deserve the tools, the skills, and the knowledge to thrive wherever I go next.
This place might not value me.
But I do.
And I’m building something no toxic system can touch—a deeper foundation, a broader future, a higher path.
Final Reflections
There is something divine in continuing to rise where you were expected to fall. I may not have control over how others treat me. But I will never let their mistreatment redefine me.
I’m not the storm—they are.
But I am the thunder that answers back.
And even if I walk away one day, I’ll do so not defeated… but full—with everything I came to collect.
Consider reflecting on Isaiah 43:2 — “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you.” Even in unkind environments, you are not alone. Your presence carries the authority of your purpose.
My Voice Unchained 