Friends,

Lately I’ve been thinking about growth — and honestly, when I compare who I used to be with who I am now, the two versions of me wouldn’t even carpool together.

Old me matched energy with energy like it was her full-time job.
You had an attitude at the register because you temporarily believed you owned Chipotle? Cool. I had time, patience, and corporate on speed dial. Those points were getting honored, and yes, I was leaving with free guac and a discount.

If a boss raised his voice at me in front of the team, I didn’t raise mine — I sharpened it. Calm. Collected. Public. Nothing like a professional tone correction to spice up a staff meeting.

And if an old friend disappeared because of their own insecurities and later tried to circle back? I mastered the art of looking through people. Not rude. Just… spiritually invisible.

Was I a little spicy? Absolutely.
But it didn’t come from nowhere.

For a long time, I survived by staying quiet. I learned how to shrink, how to keep the peace, how to let people run over me. Eventually, I had enough — I swung the pendulum hard in the opposite direction. I defended myself against everything: real problems, imagined problems, and minor inconveniences that honestly did not deserve the effort.

Growth, I’ve learned, isn’t swinging harder.
It’s learning when to stop swinging at all.

Over time — through prayer, experience, and some very uncomfortable stretching — I’ve learned how to walk in love instead of constantly gearing up for battle. I still match energy these days, but now it’s focused on my future… not my past, not old bosses, and definitely not expired reward points.

I started reflecting back when did I notice God was working in me, let me share with you my aah haa moment.

Not too long ago, I found myself in a situation where my old instincts would have thrived — a boss and her loyal sidekick blatantly lied on me, playing petty games, and creating unnecessary tension. I hate using the word bully and mean girls, but when emails and texts start backing you up, it stops being dramatic and starts being factual. I rubbed them the wrong way. I was cheerful, and I didn’t feed into their gossip.

This time, though, I handled it differently. I prayed. I stayed calm. I followed the process. I spoke up without swinging.

Meanwhile, my boss was far more worried about her sidekick’s sick dog than doing any real training or leading with integrity. When I calmly showed proof to HR, she looked us all dead in the eye and said it never happened. Now I’m not saying she lied… I’m just saying if you Google the definition, her photo might pop up like an unsolicited ad.

Eventually, the company offered me a settlement to quietly move on.

And here’s the part that surprised me most — I felt a little defeated, but I also felt… relieved.

I left without consequence.
Without damage to my reputation.
Without bitterness. Maybe a little at first.

And the two people who caused my anxiety are still right where they were — same desks, same drama, same emotional maturity.

That’s when it hit me: growth doesn’t always look like winning loudly. Sometimes it looks like being released.

There will always be people who aren’t on the same ride yet.
The coworker whose only companion is her dog because she doesn’t know how to sustain mature relationships.
The leader who still believes her daddy when he told her she was a princess and never quite grew out of it.
The woman who thinks playing dumb is a personality trait and calls it a flex.

And that’s okay — because not everyone is meant to grow at the same pace, or in the same direction.

God removed me from something toxic and placed me somewhere healthier — greener pastures, quieter mornings, and people who actually encourage growth instead of it just being on a Mission Statement.

So, this is just a reminder, friends:
Put things in perspective. Weigh what deserves your energy and what doesn’t. Growth doesn’t mean you’ve lost the fight — it just means you’re moving on.

“Do not be overcome by evil but overcome evil with good.” — Romans 12:21

Old me would’ve verbally burned the bridge and the building.
New me just crossed the bridge and kept walking.

And honestly?
That feels like real growth.

From Your Friend Me, Lorie