Where Allegiance Lives

Over time, it’s easy to tie our identity to things outside us. What we do. How we contribute. Where we’re relied on. Those begin to quietly confirm who we are.

When effort is seen and responded to, that steadiness can feel secure. When those conditions shift, it gives way.

That’s why unwanted change can feel so destabilizing when it touches those ties. The reaction can feel larger than the change itself. It isn’t just sadness or frustration. It often shows up as anxiety, a loss of confidence, or a sense of being unmoored.

Something more personal wobbles too.

The grief isn’t only about what was lost. Losing a job, a marriage, a role, or a way of being needed takes more than the loss itself. It takes the version of you that knew who they were because of it.

When identity is tied to things that can disappear, unwanted change doesn’t just disrupt circumstances. It disrupts who you think you are.

The loss is real. But it isn’t the only thing that’s hurting.

I was in a conversation about work and ambition, something I’d spent most of my life chasing.

Partway through, the executive I was speaking with stopped me mid-thought and asked me to hold my hands up in front of my face.

“What do you see?” he asked.

“Ten fingers.”

“And what else?”

“Two rings.”

He paused. “Who put those rings there?”

“My husband.”

“That’s right,” he said. “There’s no ring on your finger from work.”

I felt exposed.

He went on to say that in business, roles can disappear without warning. Allegiance, if it’s placed there, will eventually be misplaced.

I didn’t argue. I didn’t rush to explain myself. I just let it land.

I’d been tying my identity to something that could disappear at any moment.