Turbulence? You’ve Got This.
One female founder’s story of turning crisis into clarity and growth.
Sometimes life hits us with a wave of unexpected, destabilizing changes—what I call a tsunami season— and it knocks the wind out of us. Fear, conflict, confusion, and emotional chaos can come crashing in, triggering unconscious reactions and paralyzing anxiety. It can feel like we’ve lost all control. But we must remember, especially in the middle of turbulence, that we have within us the ability to overcome and rebuild. I know, because this is something I had to do.
For over two decades, my husband and I invested everything we had—our time, our finances, and our relationship—into building a company from the ground up. What began with just the two of us and a mountain of start-up debt grew into a thriving, eight-figure enterprise. Together, we led a team of more than 140 employees across three states, navigating the journey as both business partners and life partners.
When he walked into my office one afternoon and told me he was leaving the company—with less than 30 days’ notice—I was stunned.
His decision launched my life into a full-blown crisis. In what felt like a blink, my business, my marriage, my family, and my peace of mind were all caught in a whirlwind of uncertainty—and I had no idea how to steady any of it. For six months, I lived in an aftermath of pain. I couldn’t think clearly, couldn’t sleep, let alone make clear-minded decisions. His departure left a gaping hole— we hadn’t structured the business to function as if one of us were suddenly gone.
“Why?” That question echoed in my mind endlessly.
One morning, I flipped through an old journal and came across a note I’d written years earlier, a quote from a book: “Asking why is a useless exercise.”
In that moment, I realized I had been asking the wrong question.
Chasing the “why” was keeping me locked in the wreckage of the past—fixated on what had already shattered. Maybe an explanation would have softened the shock, but it wouldn’t have changed the reality. What I needed wasn’t a reason; I needed direction.
The real question: “What do I choose to do?”
That simple shift—from “why” to “what”—became the turning point in my healing and recovery. Here’s what I learned about regaining a sense of control and grounding.
❶ Immediately ask “what,” not “why.”
The question “What do I choose to do?” is empowering. It shifts control back to us, making a path forward possible. The question “why” can do just the opposite—its answer is typically rooted in an emotional attachment to someone else’s power. When I stopped demanding an answer to “why” from my husband and instead held myself accountable for “what,” I found answers that restored my footing.
❷ Don’t resist reality.
Life hands us unexpected moments we would never choose. When it does, it’s tempting to resist—push back, argue, and fight what is happening. But resistance delays growth. It can create traps that keep us in unproductive emotional holding patterns. I was tethered to the life my husband and I had built—side-by-side workdays leading us to a beachside retirement. But at some point, our vision was no longer his vision. When I accepted this, I created space for my own next chapter. Acceptance isn’t surrender. It’s the decision to align energy and strategy with reality.
❸ Lean in instead of lashing out.
Turbulence turns up the volume of noise because fear stokes anxiety, and an anxious mind never rests. To quiet that chatter—both around us and inside us—we must pause. Unplug. Create space. Reflect. Decide. Then re-engage. In reaction to my crisis, I ran around trying to save my old life as if it were my only future. When my efforts failed, I lashed out, blamed my husband, and fixated on everything I viewed as “going wrong.” It wasn’t until I turned inward that I remembered an important truth: I’d been unhappy in our business for years—it wasn’t fulfilling.
❹ Acknowledge fear—but don’t let it reign.
Fear is a strange gift—an instinct meant to shield us. Yet when it takes the reins in moments that don’t warrant its power, our judgment blurs, tensions spike, and missteps follow. Often what we need in its place is—caution (awareness + wisdom)—to guide our choices. I learned this the hard way. I let fear—False Evidence Appearing Real—hijack my mind, spinning me into a loop of unproductive reactions. I acted based on the bad outcomes I imagined vs. what was true and within my power to change in real time.
❺ Reconsider your definition of success.
In the professional world, success is often measured by growth, revenue, and dominance—overlooking two essential elements: peace and contentment. After my husband left the business, I spent over a year trying to recreate what we’d had. It didn’t work. Eventually, I realized my definition of success was incomplete. Once I prioritized peace and contentment, I discovered a far better path forward.
❻ Remember, happiness is an inside job.
I spent too long expecting my husband to fix how I felt. When it became clear he couldn’t do that inner work for me, I had to ask myself tough questions:
• Why am I clinging to an experience that has already changed?
• What new vision serves me best now?
• Which actions are within my control to move toward that vision?
• What’s holding me back from taking those actions?
The answers shifted me from despair to resilience.
❼ Trust that answers will come.
Being left in the business from the person I trusted most felt like a painful rupture. In hindsight, it was a spiritual invitation—one that compelled me to listen more deeply, ask more insightful questions, and reconnect with my inner voice. I learned to trust that an answer always emerges. It might not arrive as expected, but it inevitably comes—often disguised as growth, resilience, and profound self-awareness.
The Outcome
After three years, my husband returned to the company—but we were both changed and more evolved. The professional time apart paved the way for greater appreciation, respect, boundaries, and purpose. Our marriage is stronger, and so is our partnership. But most importantly, I am stronger. I may not welcome turbulence, but I fear it less.
If you’re facing your own storm, remember:
You’ve got this.
