By C.Kimberly Toms | May 26, 2025
Returning to work after surviving violent crime is not a linear journey back to where you were before. It’s a complex process of rediscovering who you are now, what you’re capable of, and how the experience has fundamentally changed your relationship with work, leadership, and yourself. As someone who has navigated this path, I’ve learned that humility—not as self-diminishment, but as honest self-assessment—becomes an essential tool for rebuilding a meaningful career.
After violent crime, the person who returns to work is not the same person who left. This reality demands a level of humility that can be uncomfortable for high achievers accustomed to charging ahead with confidence. The courage to acknowledge uncertainty about your own capabilities, and the wisdom to test them gradually, becomes a form of strength rather than weakness.
My own return required me to honestly examine five critical areas where I had genuine doubt: my career direction, my ability to function within corporate constraints, my capacity to take direction, my leadership abilities, and perhaps most importantly, my patience with difficult personalities. This wasn’t about lacking confidence—it was about having the wisdom to know that assumptions about my unchanged abilities could be both naive and potentially harmful to my recovery.
The process of testing these areas revealed surprising truths. While I discovered I had far more patience than before—a gift born from perspective that comes with surviving trauma—I also found I would no longer tolerate being diminished or walked over. This wasn’t aggression; it was clarity. Violent crime had stripped away my tolerance for unnecessary toxicity and my willingness to accept poor treatment.
More significantly, I realized I could no longer be misled. Trauma has a way of sharpening your ability to see through facades and recognize truth. This newfound clarity became a leadership asset, allowing me to assess situations and people with a level of discernment I hadn’t possessed before.
Perhaps most importantly, I discovered I could approach work with genuine excitement and engagement, even after difficult days. This resilience wasn’t about compartmentalizing trauma—it was about having processed it enough to not let it define every aspect of my professional life.
One of the most challenging discoveries was recognizing that while I had grown in wisdom and capability, I had temporarily positioned myself in roles beneath my actual skill level. The humility that served me well in testing my abilities had evolved into an unnecessary limitation. I was setting expectations for myself to be “exclusively tactical” and follow leaders who, in normal circumstances, would have been my juniors.
This realization highlighted a crucial aspect of recovery: knowing when humility has served its purpose and when it’s time to step back into your full capabilities. The goal isn’t to stay small forever—it’s to rebuild thoughtfully and then claim your rightful place.
Returning to work after violent crime means reconstructing your professional identity while honoring both who you were and who you’ve become. The experience doesn’t erase your previous accomplishments or capabilities, but it does add layers of wisdom, resilience, and clarity that can actually enhance your leadership abilities.
The key is recognizing that taking time to rebuild doesn’t mean you’re broken—it means you’re being strategic. Testing your capabilities isn’t about doubt—it’s about ensuring sustainable success. And discovering new boundaries and standards isn’t about being difficult—it’s about having clarity about what serves you and your work.
The journey back to full professional engagement requires balancing humility with confidence, caution with boldness, and self-protection with openness to growth. It means being honest about where you are while not limiting where you can go.
For survivors considering their return to work, remember that this process is uniquely yours. The timeline, the discoveries, and the path forward will be different for everyone. What remains constant is the need for patience with yourself, honesty about your needs, and the courage to test your assumptions about what you can and cannot do.
The workplace you return to may be the same, but you are not. This isn’t a limitation—it’s an opportunity to bring new wisdom, clearer boundaries, and deeper resilience to your professional life. The humility to acknowledge change becomes the foundation for a more intentional, authentic, and ultimately more successful career.
Recovery isn’t about returning to who you were before. It’s about becoming who you’re meant to be now, with all the hard-won wisdom that comes from surviving the unthinkable. And sometimes, that person is actually more capable of leadership, more discerning in judgment, and more resilient in the face of challenge than the person who came before.
The role of humility in this journey is not to keep you small, but to help you rebuild thoughtfully—so that when you do step back into your full power, you do so with intention, wisdom, and unshakeable authenticity.
Have you had to change your career path or reassess your capabilities after something pivotal in your life like violent crime? I’d love to hear about your experiences! Connect on LinkedIn to discuss.