I Sued My Employer and Won (Why "Burning Bridges" Is Sometimes the Only Way Home)

The Dream Job That became a Waking Nightmare

It was late 2019. The world was quietly heading toward an apocalypse, but I was too busy dealing with my own personal armageddon.

I had landed what I thought was my "dream job." It checked all the boxes: A startup in the newly legalized cannabis industry (my passion), a strategic project management role working closely with the CEO, and a paycheck that finally reflected my worth. For the first month, I was on cloud nine. I was being congratulated in front of the whole company. I felt seen. I felt valued.

But as I wrote in Sovereign AF: "When something seems too good to be true, it probably is."

Enter "Napoleon." He was a hostile contractor hired by a VP. He had a raging tiny-man complex and an ego the size of the Titanic. He was toxic, manipulative, and impossible to work with. But instead of firing him, the company protected him. When I went to my boss and HR in tears, begging for support, they did what cowardly management always does: They told me I was being "emotional." They iced me out. They hoped that if they ignored the problem, I would just shut up and get back to work.

I spent weeks sitting in meetings with empty eyes, disassociating to survive. If someone asked me "How are you?", I would burst into tears. I refused to hide my pain. I refused to make them comfortable while they gaslit me.

The turning point came from an unlikely ally—a young developer who told me I reminded him of Margarita from the book The Master and Margarita. Margarita is a witch. She is a free-thinking, courageous heroine who refuses to be brainwashed. Inspired, I decided to stop being the victim and start being the witch.

I started wearing black from head to toe like a Valkyrie ready for battle. I took copious amounts of CBD to balance my nervous system. And I made a decision: I was not going to dim my light for these people anymore.

I issued an ultimatum to management: It’s him or me. I gave them until Friday to decide.

The Release

That Friday morning, I dragged myself to the office feeling empty. My boss, who was supposed to be on vacation, was there. He pulled me into a small meeting room with HR. Awkwardly, he blurted out that my services were no longer needed. They were firing me just days before my three-month probation ended.

In that moment, as the words left his mouth, something strange happened. I didn't feel devastated. I felt free.

A pit sank in my stomach because of the injustice, yes. But my heart leaped. I realized that if I had quit, I would have walked away with nothing. But because they fired me—after I had documented their harassment—I now had cause. I had the power.

I walked out of that office with tears of rage streaming down my face, but I knew: I might have lost the battle, but I was going to win the war.

I sued them. It was the scariest decision of my life. I was alone. I had just ended a nine-year relationship. I was estranged from my family. I was standing in the rubble of my life, holding a match.

But I knew I had to do it. Not for the money—though I deserved it—but for the little girl inside me who had been bullied her whole life. I had to prove to her that I was worth fighting for.

I hired a labor lawyer. When she asked me if I had spent money on therapy that we could add to the settlement damages, I looked her in the eye and said: "You are my therapy. You are going to win this for me. That is the only therapy I need."

The Full Moon

The mediation was set for the next Full Moon. (You can’t make this stuff up). I showed up ready. My former employer showed up. unprepared. They sent a VP of Finance who barely knew the case. Their lawyer stalled, bluffed, and lied. But the truth has a funny way of cutting through the noise.

The mediator was on my side. By the end of the day, we settled. I won.

I didn't get millions of dollars. But I got something far more valuable: I got my Sovereignty back. I proved to myself that I could stand up to a corporate bully and win. I proved that my voice mattered. On the day we settled, the bullied little girl inside me finally took off her armor and laughed.

Poetic Justice

The universe loves a good plot twist. Months later, the HR manager from that same company—the one who had ignored my pleas for help—messaged me. She was being sexually harassed by management. They were protecting the man, again. She wanted my advice.

I could have told her to get lost. I could have said, "I told you so." But a Sovereign woman doesn't punch down. She lifts up. I told her: "You will win. The law is on your side. You are not alone." And she did win.

"I Will Die When I Am Ready To Die"

A few weeks after my settlement, I ran into an old colleague at an industry event. He told me I looked different. Happier. Lighter. I was high (it was a cannabis event, after all), and in a moment of pure channeling, these words tumbled out of my mouth:

"I am warrior. I am Viking. I will die when I am ready to die."

I don't know where it came from, but I know it is true. We spend so much of our lives afraid of "social death"—afraid of being fired, canceled, rejected, or divorced. We stay in toxic jobs and toxic relationships because we are afraid to burn the bridge.

But sometimes, the bridge is leading you to the wrong destination. Sometimes, you have to light the match yourself to light your way home.

I burned that bridge. And it was the best thing I ever did. It cleared the path for me to become an entrepreneur. It cleared the path for me to write this book. It cleared the path for me to find Me.

So, if you are holding onto a rope that is burning your hands, let go. If you are scared to speak up because you might lose your "safety," remember: It is not safety if it requires your silence.

Sue the bastards. Or just leave. But never, ever let them keep your crown.

📓 JOURNALING PROMPTS FOR THIS CHAPTER

Let’s process the battles you’ve fought.

1. The Battle Scars: What battle have you fought (or are avoiding fighting) that is secretly shaping you into the next version of yourself? What are you afraid to lose if you stand up for yourself?

2. The "Good Girl" Check: Where are you tolerating disrespect or toxicity because you are afraid of being labeled "difficult," "emotional," or "too much"?

3. The Final Stand: If today was your final battle—if you knew you couldn't fail—how would you act differently with your time, your voice, or your truth?

🛠 PRACTICAL TOOL: The Sacred Rage Release

You don’t need a lawsuit to release the energy of injustice. You need to move it out of your body.

The Concept: Trauma and injustice get trapped in the body as "frozen" energy. We often try to think our way out of anger, but anger is physical. It needs a physical release.

The Protocol:

1. Find a Safe Space: A car, a pillow, or a "Rage Room" (if you have one nearby).

2. The Viking Roar: I want you to make noise. Not a polite scream. A guttural, primal roar from your belly. Scream "NO!" or "ENOUGH!"

3. Physical Release:

   • Option A: Punch a pillow until you are exhausted.

   • Option B: Twist a towel as hard as you can, imagining it is the situation/person, and then throw it on the ground.

   • Option C: Run or sprint until your lungs burn.

4. The Aftercare: After the release, put your hand on your heart. Tell your inner child: "I fought for you. You are safe now."