Part of Elvis Has Left the Building

Let’s imagine you and I are standing next to each other. Maybe in your living room. Better yet, your workspace.

We’re joined at the hip by a sort of bungee cord. It’s hanging loosely between us; plenty of slack.

I take a few steps away from you. Nothing happens; the cord is still limp; you don’t feel anything.

I take a few more steps. Now the bungee is parallel with the ground. No slack, but not tight. Maybe you feel the slightest awareness around your waist.

I take more steps away from you. Now there’s tension. You can feel the pull. Nothing aggressive, nothing you have to brace yourself against, but you feel it. No question.

I keep walking. Maybe around a corner in your office. You can feel the delta between us in new parts of your body as you have to brace yourself against the tension: your knees, lower back, maybe even your shoulders.

For me, that’s what it felt like when I realized that a part of me had evidently said, “Enough. I can’t do this anymore,” and walked out.

I didn’t have this awareness in that singular moment. Instead, I started to feel the distance between the rest of me and the part that left as mental, physical, emotional, and spiritual symptoms: lack of joy, restless, sleepless, and eventual depression, anxiety, and panic attacks.

Finally – FINALLY! – all I knew was that I had to leave. I had to catch up with the part of me that had already vacated the premises. I had to go find out what that guy envisioned, what that guy believed I was capable of.

What about you?

What part of you has left the job, tribe, identity, relationship?

What if the part of you that left is calling for the rest of you to catch up?


C’mon. Let’s go find you.





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