We Were Never Made to Move This Fast

This morning, I realized something. I actually realized a lot of things due the the rabbit hole I spiraled down. But it started with the fact I need to find more clients. However, I cannot keep looking for hope in places that leave me feeling hopeless.

For me, one of those places is LinkedIn. Hear me out…

I keep opening it, hoping I’ll find something different. Something encouraging and human. Instead, I find another announcement about another round of layoffs. Another person suddenly “open to work.” Another company celebrating how much faster it can operate because of AI.

Layoffs are nothing new. I know. I’ve lived through five of them. (Buckle up. Here’s the first turn down the rabbit hole.)

There is something especially cruel about how impersonal layoffs have become. People give years of their lives to a company, only to discover through an automated notification that their access has been shut off and their job no longer exists.

Another name removed from the system.
Another number reduced from the budget.
Another human being left wondering, Did any of what I gave matter?

We are not robots! (No offense to the robots.)

I genuinely appreciate what technology and AI allow us to accomplish. These tools have helped me research, organize, create, and move work forward in ways that once would have taken much longer.

Just because technology allows us to move faster does not mean human beings were created to live at that speed. We need time to sit, think, and breathe. Let us relish something beautiful instead of immediately turning it into content. What about enjoying another person without checking the time or calculating the productivity of the conversation? (I’m guilt of this one. It’s the process improvement optimizer in me.)

Peace and joy are difficult to find when we are constantly rushing. Yet our culture keeps telling us that faster is better, more is necessary, and rest must be earned. Technology was supposed to make life easier. Instead, we have often used it to increase what we expect from human beings.

Do more.
Produce more.
Respond faster.
Learn the next tool.
Keep up with the algorithm.
Prove that you are still relevant.
And if you cannot keep pace?

The message is that someone or something else can replace you. And that message is an ugly exhausting lie.

I Know What a Layoff Can Do to a Person

After five layoffs, I know the thoughts that can begin circling when your job disappears:

Was I not good enough? Did I miss something? Am I still valuable? What do I tell people I do now? How am I going to take care of myself and the people I love?

Losing a job doesn’t only affect the bank account. It strikes at our identity, confidence, safety, and sense of belonging. That is especially true if we have been taught by our families, workplaces, or culture that our value comes from what we produce for other people.

It took a lot of crawling through the crap for me to understand this:

I am worthy when I am working, and I am worthy when I am sitting still.
I am loved when I am helping someone, and I am loved when I have nothing to give.
I matter when I have an impressive title, and I matter when I don’t know what comes next.
My worth was never issued by a corporation, so a corporation cannot revoke it.

Isolation Didn’t End When Lockdowns Did

I believe there is a spiritual battle taking place beneath all of this. (Welcome to the next turn and twist of the rabbit hole.)

The enemy thrives in isolation. He wants us separated, discouraged, comparing ourselves to everyone else, and questioning whether we still have anything meaningful to offer.

The isolation did not end when the COVID lockdowns ended. It simply changed form. Now we can sit alone with a screen that constantly reminds us who was promoted, who was laid off, who adopted the newest technology, who appears successful, and all the ways we are supposedly falling behind. We have never been more connected technologically, yet so many people feel profoundly unseen.

What better way to divide people than to convince them they are incomplete as human beings. That they are too slow, too old, too emotional, too complicated, or too expensive. That everything they have learned over decades can be replaced by the newest platform. I know I’ve felt like this a few times over the past year.

Luckily human beings carry things technology cannot replicate. We carry lived experience. We have discernment and compassion. Wisdom earned through failure. We have the ability to sit with another person in pain and not treat it like a problem to optimize. We have the ability to read body language and hear what is unspoken, offer space to another human and care. We also have the ability to NOT USE EM DASHES! These skills may be among the most important things we have to offer now.

I Still Need to Make Money

Okay, back to the what I started to write about…

I still need clients. I’d like to buy groceries, pay bills, and, for the love of all things holy, buy a new bra. I’d like to meet those needs without returning to the places that repeatedly drain the life out of me.

I cannot keep opening LinkedIn and expecting it to suddenly feel human. Or return to a corporate job where my boundaries don’t matter. Or keep returning to unhealthy family patterns and expecting everyone else to have changed. At some point, I have to stop looking for nourishment in places that continually leave me empty. I have to look elsewhere and build differently. I will find people who still value relationships, wisdom, conversation, and work that improves human lives rather than merely increasing output.

Here’s a thought, maybe that means I find clients through real conversations and trusted relationships. I can offer my help to small-business owners who care deeply about their customers but feel overwhelmed by the pace of change. I can use technology as a tool without allowing it to become the master. And most importantly, I can create work that leaves room for people to remain people.

All Things Are Still Possible

(I promise this is the last twist down the rabbit hole of thought.)

I am angry about what is happening in the working world because I know how deeply it hurts people. But underneath the anger, I feel possibility. There are so many talented, compassionate, experienced people who have been beaten down by systems that made them forget who they are. I am beginning to understand that leaving an unhealthy system does not mean I have nothing left to offer. On the contrary, it’s actually given me the freedom to offer what I do best.

I do not believe we win by becoming faster, colder, or more machine-like. I believe we win by remembering who we are.

We create.
We connect.
We notice.
We care.
We rest.
We begin again.

No longer do I need to manufacture the perfect mindset, force the right outcome, or perform my way into security. My faith tells me that all things are possible because God is not limited by the systems that have limited me.

So yes, I need to find more clients and I am not crawling back to the same cruel master and asking it to tell me whether I am valuable. I already know the answer. I am loved. I am worthy. I have something meaningful to offer. And so do you.