For several days, I lived inside the kind of pain that hollows you out. Not just physical pain, though that was real enough, but the accumulated weight of years of being managed into silence. Then one morning, steadied by rest and a small mercy of pharmacology, I made a decision. I reached out to my supervisor and contacted a VP directly. I handed them a log of everything that had happened since January 1984.
Could I be fired? Yes. Likely? Probably not. But something shifted the moment I sent that message: my supervisors no longer controlled the narrative. And with that shift came a question I could not stop turning over in my mind.
Would a spiritual person — a Buddhist, a Christian, a person genuinely trying to live with compassion — have done what I did? I have been sitting with that question. Here is what I have found.