When Life Doesn’t Ask Permission
Unexpected circumstances have a way of forcing you to re-evaluate everything—where you are, who you are, and how you move forward.
My experience with Long COVID did exactly that. It didn’t just disrupt my life. It unraveled my sense of identity in ways I never saw coming.
There are moments when the changes I was experiencing didn’t just challenge me, they paralyzed me. I didn’t know what to do, much less how to take a first step.
What followed was an intense sense of loss: loss of who I was, what I did, what I stood for, or even where I fit in relation to other people, places, or in my career.
Everything I (and others) knew about me - traits that I was born with, skills I developed through school and work, the way I showed up, experiences that shaped who I am were stripped. I became a shell of a person who looked like Connie but wasn’t Connie at all on the inside.
I couldn’t connect with anything I had done before or even acknowledge that those accomplishments or milestones were real. My ability to function in the personal and professional roles I held was diminished.
This loss also extended beyond identity alone. The loss of control, self-esteem, structure and purpose affected the way I moved through my ‘new’ life. I LOATHED it and I loathed myself.
I didn’t know what to do or how to act because I had no sense of meaning to guide me.
I grieved the old me. The old life. A constant refrain ran through my head: Why me? What now?
I felt ashamed. Disconnected. Defeated. Exposed. Inadequate.
And the more I tried to control things and push myself to regain some footing, the more I felt the rug being pulled away from my feet. Life felt unsteady - like a slippery slope I couldn’t get any firm grasp of.
I felt completely rudderless, unable to ground myself in this altered state, with no sense of how long it would last.
What I couldn’t see at the time was how this was showing up to others.
What Others See That You Can’t
A view from Tammy Gooler Loeb
When I reconnected with Connie about a year after her being on my podcast, I could sense right away how much had shifted. The energy I had always experienced as her life force felt drained.
At first, Connie was somewhat guarded and a bit cryptic about how she was doing. As I gently asked a few more questions, she began to share the depth of what she had been navigating. It was an ongoing and complex health journey with no clear answers and a wide range of symptoms.
There wasn’t even a definitive diagnosis yet. What was clear, though, was how disconnected she felt from her day-to-day life, her work, her relationships, and even from herself. And I believed her.
I made a point to say that directly: that I believed what she was experiencing, that I was there for her, and that she didn’t have to go through it alone.
Even so, I could still see Connie. I could see her clarity, determination, and ability to articulate what she was going through, even as she described feeling completely disconnected from it all.
We began speaking regularly, often a couple of times a week. Some days, our conversations focused on what she was experiencing with her health; other days, we explored ideas for working together. Connie was so eager to try to ‘do something…anything to get her mind trying to work again’ as she would say.
As her energy, stamina, and ability to focus began to return in small but meaningful ways, we leaned into that. We found ways to collaborate that played to each of our strengths— two halves coming together to create something whole.
What stood out to me throughout this time was not certainty, but consistency. Even when Connie didn’t feel like herself, or found it difficult to access any belief in herself, I still experienced her as creative, resourceful, and deeply committed to finding answers. Her determination was palpable.
She also had a strong and steady circle of support—her husband, her family, close friends—people who were firmly in her corner. And once I stepped into that circle, she knew I was there to stay, both as a friend and as a colleague.
Most importantly, she was open. Open to trying, exploring, and continuing, even when she didn’t feel connected to any of it. That willingness made a difference.
You’re Still in There Even if You Can’t See or Feel It
Sometimes, it takes others who truly know you to help you become reacquainted with who you really are.
I literally and figuratively couldn’t recognize what I still could or couldn’t do. From where I sat, I had no barometer to gauge any positive movement for how I was showing up or what I could deliver.
What my experience with Tammy - and my broader village - reminded me is that we need others to be our mirror when we are lost. They help us see what we can do and what we are doing. They guide us back to alignment on what feels right and what that means.
They become our sherpas, helping us find valuable signals through the internal and external noise, particularly when we can’t tell what’s left, right, up, or down.
Tammy’s perspective
If you’re supporting a friend, family member, or colleague who’s going through a situation that is deeply challenging, meet them where they are. Try to understand, as best you can, what it might feel like to be in their shoes and acknowledge that.
At the same time, be available with a consistent, grounded presence that offers a blend of realism and optimism, and provides something to work towards. No sugar coatings, unicorns or rainbows needed.
Sometimes what helps most isn’t a solution, but a subtle shift —a reframe, a different perspective, or simply being a breath of fresh air that lifts someone out of their own head and struggles, even briefly.
And this doesn’t need to be dramatic. Even a small opening can help someone begin to see what might be possible again.
As the person going through it, be open to different approaches, with an understanding of their intent and risks.
That can be scary, but it can also be powerful.
But You Can’t Escape What You’ve Chosen to Ignore
During the time I was sick, all the fears I had ever felt personally or professionally, especially the ones I never directly addressed, didn’t stay buried.
They surfaced, both indirectly and directly — through behaviors, interactions, health issues, and emotional overwhelm. I became my harshest critic. Over time, my internal narrative started to carry more weight than the reality of how the people who loved me truly saw and knew me.
Once my fog was lifted, I could objectively recognize the fears that I’d suppressed hadn’t disappeared. They had simply found another way out.
And that adage from Robert Frost - “the only way out is through” - proved to be very true.
Tammy’s perspective
Don’t do this alone. Many of us instinctively try to solve challenges by ourselves. I hear it often from clients: “I should be able to handle this.” or “At this point in my life, I shouldn’t be struggling.”
When we can’t find a solution, we tend to turn inward and criticize ourselves. Yet, when we see others in similar situations, we often think of advice to offer and then wonder why they didn’t ask for help.
When you’re in a state of distress, however, you’re too close to it to see your situation clearly. Having another perspective on it—an extra pair of eyes and ears—can help you notice what you might have missed otherwise.
Asking for help doesn’t mean you’re “less than.” It comes from strength, self-awareness, and proactivity. Curiosity is key. Staying open allows you to notice a broader view..
This takes practice. Step back and ask yourself:
Is there something I might be missing?
What could I do differently?
Are there other choices I haven’t considered?
Connie modeled this. Her curiosity, fueled by frustration, loss, and anger about her health, drove her to explore every possible avenue for treatment. For many, curiosity requires a conscious, even courageous effort, especially when it feels safer to stay in a familiar, yet uncomfortable place.
Even a small step back can help. Asking a different question or angle can begin to shift how you see the situation and open the door to a new way forward.
Doing the Inner Work Really Matters
I thought I was self-aware, but this experience taught me we are never done learning who we are, what motivates us, and what discourages us. Inner work isn’t one-and-done because we never stop evolving.
As our lives ebb and flow, so do we. We just have to stay attuned.
Tammy’s perspective
Pay attention to the repetitive messages that travel through your mind. Ask whether they’re helping you or whether they’re holding you back.
Thoughts are powerful, but they’re not fixed. With practice, you can reframe thoughts in a more useful direction. If you can get behind a better, believable thought, connect with ‘Why’ you are able to do so. A reframed thought grounded in a ‘Why’ and practiced intentionally, can make a big difference.
Also notice what or who drains you as well as what fuels you, day-to-day. Filter out as many of the possible drains and stick with the fuels! Get clear about the nature of these factors so you can be aware of how they add energy in a variety of situations in your life.
This isn’t about getting it right all the time. It’s about becoming more aware, and more intentional, in how you engage with what’s happening around you and within you.
Finding Your Bearings
When life doesn’t ask permission, it can take more than we expect.
What we’ve both seen, in different ways, is that life also asks something of us in return: to face what’s been avoided, to accept what’s changed, and to rebuild from what remains.
This work isn’t linear. It doesn’t resolve overnight.
But over time, with the right support and a willingness to do the inner work, something begins to shift.
Not a return to who you were, but a deeper understanding of who you are becoming.