The odds of being struck by lightning twice are about 1 in 10 million. But what are the odds of knowing TWO people who’ve been struck twice?

One was an employee at my vintage clothing store in the nineties who was struck twice a few years later.

The other was a client who asked me to call her Z for this story, “like a lightning bolt.”

As a child, Z was struck alongside her brother as they took refuge from a storm under a tree. He took a direct hit and died. She survived, and healed from her injuries.

“My brother was the oldest, everyone’s favorite, and for good reason,” she told me. “He was kind, generous, and very funny. So, when he died, I felt I had to fill that void. I became the funny one. I was praised for my ability to turn hardship into humor, which just reinforced it.”

Fourteen years later, she was struck again while at a backyard birthday party. Z survived that, too. Over 30 people witnessed the strike, and have experienced their own trauma.

The lightning entered through her elbow as she leaned against a metal fence. “Literally my funny bone,” she said.

While she was in the hospital, her friends started calling her “Sparky.” The nickname stuck. “It was a term of endearment, so I didn’t mind, but it did become part of my story. I even had it on my name tag at work!”

It took a year of rehabilitation to regain partial use of her arm.

It took two years of therapy to be able to take a walk outside without having a panic attack.

 

 

 

 

 

When Z first reached out to me, I immediately noticed her humor. She turned every other sentence into a one-liner. I asked her about it.

She said, “It’s a coping mechanism that became a habit. I don’t know who I would be without it.”

Despite additional recent therapy, she felt she had not been able to move forward. It wasn’t grief or even fear that was limiting her now. It was feeling locked into something she couldn’t escape.

Together, Z and I worked to clarify and engage with her longing to create a life that felt separate from her story.

We explored what might be possible. By the end of our week of daily conversation and reflection, she made two appointments:

1. to begin a guided psilocybin therapy experience

2. to visit to the city in which she was considering a new job

The first brought a sense of calm she had never had before. “I felt at peace, one with the universe, as trite as that sounds.”

The second led to an accepted job offer and a new home a two-hour drive away.

 

 

 

When I checked in again three months after the move, Z told me:

“I love my hometown, and miss my family and neighbors, but I feel truly happy here. Having a chance to be someone without a defining story has been such a gift. I’m not as funny here, but that feels good and true to who I am now. Not trying to make a joke here, but I feel truly grounded. I left ‘Sparky’ behind.”

Z has a new role with more responsibility and visibility, and a higher salary—a position that had not been available to her in her smaller city.

“Getting this job was the first time I was offered something that didn’t somehow feel wrapped in pity. I feel more confident. My husband is having a similar experience with his new job, and even our kids admitted that it was nice to be somewhere new without ties to my past.”

She was quick to point out that there were new challenges, but most things improved. “I missed all my kids’ soccer games when they were little. I wasn’t going to push my clearly limited luck by sitting on metal bleachers in the rain! But here, they switched to basketball, and we are loving it! This move has literally brought us together. I feel like we’re a stronger unit here.”

Z was recently interviewed for the local paper in her new city. “It was the first time I have been written about without a single reference to what had happened to me. Here, I am free to be whoever I damn well please, and I am being very intentional about it.”

Sometimes, moving forward means discovering that the past no longer has to define you.

And fortunately, it doesn’t take years of therapy to make the changes that can create a resonant new future.

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What To Weigh When It’s Hard To Leave

Z is highly aware of our colliding crises. She understands that being part of a supportive community is going to become even more important as things become more challenging.

And that made the idea of leaving even harder.

She carefully considered what it might mean to move away from her hometown to a place where she knew no one.

But when her older sister, recognizing how hard it had been for Z, encouraged her to experience a different place, everything shifted.

Suddenly, the move felt advantageous and truly exciting.

As Z experienced a surge in both energy and confidence, she found herself more than capable of adjusting to learning a new job and connecting with her new colleagues, neighbors, and other parents from her children’s school.

“I let go of the idea of replicating that same level of knowing everyone, and instead, I am focusing on intentionally building relationships with those I have something in common with, including wanting to ensure a connected and resilient community. It is part of my role at work, but also something I have already talked to my new neighbors about. We specifically moved to this neighborhood because there is already a focus on that here.”

Z and her family may be new to their community, but they are already building a stronger foundation for collaboration and care.

“Being known via something that happened to me is one thing. Being seen by doing something meaningful that is intentional is another. The trust I am building here is based on who I am now and what I want to contribute.”

 

PROMPT

Are you considering making a move that feels more aligned with the future you are longing for?

What ideas and longings are shaping that?