A few months ago, a friend told me that she wanted to end her marriage. 

“But I’m confused,” she said. Her face looked pained. 

My friend wasn’t in a bad marriage. Her husband was a good man.

She knew she should be happy in this relationship. While others told her that this was just a phase, a quiet voice kept tugging at her heart. It won’t stop telling her to leave. 

Have you ever felt that way? 

An unreasonable yearning to leave your perfectly good job, perfectly good relationship, perfectly safe home to go into the unknown. 

You don’t know why you feel this way. You can’t explain it to others, not even to yourself. Nevertheless, this call is compelling. 

But if you follow it, you risk making others feel disappointed, angry, betrayed, and hurt. 

You cannot fake the truest truth.

In my coaching work, I’ve had many clients who said they can’t do what they want because that’ll upset their parents. 

They tell nightmare scenarios of how their parents, husbands, friends - basically how everyone - will be upset if they do what they want.

Be it moving to another city, quitting a soul-sucking job, or ending a relationship. 

I call this the “Everyone will be upset” Story. 

While there might be some truth to this story, in most cases, the nightmare is blown out of proportion. 

Once the clients embrace their fear and tell their parents the truth, they’re often surprised by their parents’ ability to understand. 

My friend Maii Vu, a wonderful coach, uses this question to help her clients get honest about what they want: 

“Imagine an ideal world where no one will be affected, and there will be no consequences to your decision. What would you choose?” 

I think this is an excellent trick to temporarily drop our “Everyone will be upset” Story. 

Otherwise, it can prevent us from admitting the truth.

Early in the movie Moana, there was a scene where Moana shook off her yearning, turned away from the ocean, and told herself:

“So here I’ll stay… You can find happiness right where you are.”

She loves her people, loves her parents and her island so much, a part of her desperately wants to not want to leave. 

I remember my divorce. My ex-husband was my best friend, my supporter, my road-trip karaoke buddy, my charming host who puts our dinner guests at ease. 

I loved him so much a part of me desperately wanted to not want to leave too. But the part of me that wanted to leave was the truest truth - the one that lives at the very core of my being.

And you cannot fake the truest truth.

It will never stop calling to you, like the tides, the ocean’s waves. 

You can try to numb it. Lie to yourself and pretend to not hear it as much as you want. Sooner or later, the truth will find a way to get heard and lived out by you: one way or the other.  

It took a depression for me to leave the successful but empty career and say yes to the work of my soul’s purpose. 

I’ve seen clients and friends who only started living their truth after the death of a parent, being fired from the job they hate, getting dumped by the lover who abused them.

I believe either you follow this calling now, or the Universe will make you follow it later - in this life or the next. The Universe loves you too much to let you fall for your own bullshit. 

But what about the people I will hurt? Am I selfish for doing this?

The hardest thing for me about my divorce was not to leave my ex-husband (though that was excruciating) but to tell my parents the news.  

I kept it from them for 9 months. When they called me and asked about my marriage, I lied. 

My parents were almost 60. My dad had diabetes and high blood pressure and was prone to anger and bitterness. My mom was always busy and panicky about her children. 

I loved them too much; I couldn’t bear just imagining them sad. I felt like an ungrateful, cruel, shitty daughter whose head deserved to be shaved and body thrown in the river. 

We cannot bear the hurt of others. We don’t have the ability or the right. 

But months went by, and I got more and more tired of living in a lie.

Finally, with the help of my ex-husband, my friend Hanne and my new partner, I summoned the courage to write them a letter. I couldn’t tell them face to face. 

In the letter, I tried to be as honest as I could about why I made my choice. I told my parents that I loved them.

I told them not to worry because my life had moved on to a new, more beautiful chapter. I asked for their understanding, and if my decision hurt them, I asked for their forgiveness.

But I also told them that if they couldn’t understand and forgive me yet. That if they needed to be angry and hurt and disappointed and worried; it was okay too. That I would love them anyway. 

When I sent that letter, I had fully surrendered. I didn’t try to control how my parents reacted anymore. 

My only intention was to be truthful to the ones who brought me to this world, who had spent their entire lives loving me imperfectly. The letter was me offering them my imperfect love. 

After all, isn’t that what we all do?
Loving each other imperfectly? 

Through this, I’ve learned a deeper lesson: I have no right to take their suffering away from them. 

Because within suffering lies the seed of enlightenment. 

If you living our truest truth triggers their hurt, that hurt is theirs to bear.

This may sound cruel, but it’s a humbling recognition. We cannot bear the hurt of others. We don’t have the ability or the right. 

My ex-husband burst into tears, slamming his fists in anguish when I told him my decision to leave. I sat there next to him on the bed, cried with him, and tried to keep my heart open. 

A few days after sending the letter, my ex-husband and I came to my parents house.

My mother cried at the dining table. My father sat in silence in front of the TV. We sat there next to them, we both cried, we tried to keep our hearts open. 

If there’s something we can do, that’s that. Keeping our heart open. Holding witness to our loved ones’ suffering, offering our presence, our compassion. Allowing them to feel their pain. 

Months after our separation, my ex-husband and I had one of the most open-hearted conversations we ever had in all our years of knowing each other.

We shared how this decision opened the door for us to evolve as souls and human beings. We talked about how liberated we felt.

Liberation sometimes feels like burning, like destruction, like darkness, like pain. 

I think this is the key: liberation. 

Liberation doesn’t always feel like happiness, not even peace. 

Liberation sometimes feels like burning, like destruction, like darkness, like pain. 

How the phoenix liberates itself from its old shell, to be reborn again. 

When we’re in the burn of liberation, we need to remind ourselves that the only way out is through. 

We endure. All of us. We bear the unbearable. 

And one day - later than we hope for, but sooner than we expect - we’ll emerge from the darkness, like a baby from her mother’s womb: tired, and messy, and crying, and utterly - utterly glorious. 

With all my love,

P.S: it’s time for your own rebirth

If despite your perfectly good job, you can’t help but wanting to leave. Then you’re being called to embrace your true purpose and express it through your work.

However, don’t jump to another job from a place of frustration. Do it from a place of clarity.

Download the Purpose-Finder Workbook below to clarify your unique purpose. And use it as a compass to find the work you belong.

SHARING = LOVING