An Ode To My Millennial Cringe Era

I learned to like the feeling of love

From boy bands and Disney movies

Blue prints on friendship came from books surrounding preteen babysitters

Saturday mornings were all about cartoons and lucky charms (mostly the marshmallows)

Social outings were planned in advance on long-corded phones

In my generation, technology didn’t start out “Smart”

Cue the hormones, the highlights, a trifecta of “designer” (cheaply-made) fashion 

Grew out of Barbie’s, but never cared for Bratz

I was too busy sneaking rich-girl stories and racy romance paper backs

Screen names had to be cool yet chill

Afternoons and in between post dinner homework were for AIM

But behind the choker necklaces

It was like the girl I knew was being choked out of me

Attempting to blend in to survive 

I went to really dark places

Without the angsty lyrics or black under eyes 

Everyone but me knew I was trying too damn hard 

And when I cried and asked for help

The solutions were oversimplified 

Tone down the writing and get offline 

At fifteen I was rocking bangs (that didn’t really bang)

Switched from public to private high school 

An education that came with uniforms, exposure to small town life

Insert music becoming auto-tuned

Wearing perfume like a flower

Still going to church for a boy

I wasn’t interested in sneaking out

But I read Cosmopolitan at my summer job

(Guess was that was)

You either had to be an athlete or a theater kid to find your place

I was neither

So I suppose high school was just a stepping stone 

Welcome to campus!

I was more than ready for independence 

To leave my old identity behind 

Classes were for sweats

Weekends were for Express tops and leggings

Toeing the line between stylish and modest

But never go makeup-free

Because I never knew who I was going to meet 

Dreaming through the walks with my iPod nano

Recovering from a night out with Gossip Girl and One Tree Hill

The happiest I’d ever been

But to stubborn to call my family when the struggles set in 

That life was a bubble

And I lived in my head 

More people were spontaneous 

I still made plans

My racing thoughts manifested in what was called anxiety

I was pretty damn proud of myself for going to therapy

But I resisted medication, believing I’d have to give up drinking 

I craved experimentation and exploration 

But didn’t have the language for when my body was disrespected 

A cycle of shame and questioning why it all happened 

The birth of dating apps made it all so confusing

I didn’t feel safe or trust men in private or public

I wrestled with God, Purity Culture, and the ever-divisive political climate

Reflecting on those years

It’s not about finding myself, but embracing who I’ve always been

Things that I tried to hide or deny

Multiple things can be true at once 

I have regrets, and I didn’t  know better

A college degree is not the key to everything

Communication can be easily misinterpreted by what’s on a screen

Social media no longer revolves around bumper stickers, superlatives, and showcasing one’s personality

It’s all news and views (and being “right”)

I’m conflicted with maintaining a presence

While not getting sucked in 

I own (and love) my “Barbie Energy”

Advocating for myself professionally and medically

Call me entitled, but I deserve good things

I continually honor the girl I’ve been

And honor all the facets of the woman I’m becoming

Trying to be kinder

More compassionate 

Gentler

More myself 

Even when there’s doubts, frustration, and even tears

I don’t cringe, but rather giggle

And I’d hug that girl repeatedly 

That girl who now sings and dances to Taylor Swift

Accepts her body (as best as she can)

Has Big feelings

What was then still matters

It has shaped me

It has moved me

The good

The bad

And the in between 

Making sense of yesterday 

To celebrate today

This poem was inspired by Kate Kennedy’s “Once In A Millennial”.

Thirty-Two

If I haven’t said it before, I’ll say it now: I love celebrating birthdays, and I’ll continue to celebrate mine despite being told that there’s no reason to do so once you hit a certain age. I will incorporate as many little things or as many big things as I want (within reason). 

But this was the year I realized that I needed to do something a little bit different, a little more low-key than a big dinner and partying into the wee hours. I’ll still make exceptions for important events like weddings and concerts, but trying to do the same stuff I did in my twenties usually results in a full body hangover (thankfully no headache or nausea, but there’s pain everywhere and I’m usually too stiff to move). 

I eventually decided on brunch in Chicago, and one of the less costly brunches for the city (if you live there or visit as often as I do, it could easily be categorized as a religion). My sister celebrated with me for the first time in ages (apart from family), and it was wonderful introducing her to some of my closest friends. We bopped around for a little bit after our meal, ending up in the midst of a Taylor Swift-themed bar crawl (which I wasn’t mad about). I left to catch the train home around dinner time, and once I was back in the suburbs I took a bath, had a cup of tea, and went to bed. I was still tired the next day, but thankfully there was no hangover of any kind to recover from.  And ultimately, I was glad to have fun in a way that wasn’t so hard on me physically. I enjoy going out and exploring, catching up with friends, trying new places and things. And I also reach a limit, and I’m thankful that the people around me respect and honor that. 

As I’ve said previously, the past year was a lot. I realized that my body was changing, and pursuing solutions to the symptoms was isolating and oftentimes, lonely. I examined my relationship to alcohol, flew solo on a plan for the first time, and soaked up all the Barbie energy and nostalgia. There were many days where I felt like I was just going through the motions, playing catch up on things that I needed to do and hesitating to ask for help that I needed. I didn’t quite have the breakthrough that I wanted (at least in a way that felt monumental), and I don’t know if that was a God thing or perhaps I wasn’t “hustling” hard enough. 

During a meeting with a wellness group that I’m part of, I expressed my struggle in getting on a solid sleep schedule and creating balance in my routine. But as we talked, there was one word that kept coming up and stood out to me more than the buzzwords I’ve heard in terms of what you can accomplish during the day. 

It was rhythm. 

Depending on the context, rhythm has quite a few definitions. I read a Forbes article where rhythm was described as showing up as your authentic self at work, whereas balance was attempting to do everything perfectly. One of the wellness group leaders described rhythm as making room for work, rest, and play (in no particular order). 

I’m still in the midst of creating my own definition, and perhaps it will be an ongoing endeavor. I do have structure and I do have a routine, but it doesn’t always go the way I plan in it my head. Ideally I would love to be able to get up at five in the morning on most days and write in quiet, uninterrupted flow. I can get up before sunrise if I have enough adrenaline (i.e. a plane or a train to catch), but on a normal day it’s not that easy, especially if I haven’t slept well and/or my legs are ridiculously stiff). 

I think rhythm depends on the season. It involves listening to my body and moving and resting based on how I’m physically feeling. It’s having a routine, but also leaving room for spontaneity and morale boosts and doing brave things. The goal is not necessarily productivity (a word I’m coming to loathe), but efficiency. Meaningful work. 

And yes, I realize that it’s different when working in Corporate America and having hard-set deadlines, quotas, last minute pivoting, and everything in between. But no one should have to risk their mental and physical health in the process, and I stand by that. 

Since the end of 2023, I’ve been working on a creative project that’s very close to my heart. I won’t share what exactly it is right now, because I’m protective of the message and the ideas and concepts surrounding it. I’ve finished the first draft, and am hoping to find an editor that will help me with revisions. I strongly believe in asking “what are we not talking about that we should be talking about?” and this concept is one of them. I don’t know where it will lead, but I pray that it will make an impact. 

I always try to stay open to what a new year will bring, regardless if that starts in January or my birth month. This might be bold of me to say, but I believe that I deserve opportunities, even if it means creating them. I deserve success, whatever that looks like. And I deserve to feel good, feel confident, and be well. 

Here’s to thirty-two!

Reflecting On 2023

This year has been…a lot.

. I remember January and February, but March through June is like a blur when I attempt to look back. When summer came to a close, the consensus among my friends and I was knowing that we did a lot, but yet it felt like we didn’t (or perhaps there was more that could have been squeezed in). This particular Christmas season was packed with many activities and while I always enjoy the lights/decorations and quality time with family, I struggled at times with being present and not experiencing mental exhaustion. But there were also important, damn-near milestone moments that took place and I couldn’t be more grateful. 

I bought A New Mattress

It seems like one of those mundane things, but as someone who struggles with not holding onto money with an iron fist, this was kind of a big deal. The one I’d been sleeping on for the past decade was well past its prime, and whenever I laid down or got up, I could hear the springs move. I’d been holding out due to not only refusing to spend the money, but wrongly believing it would make more sense to get one once I had my own space. I will say that investing in it sooner rather than later is always worth it, especially if you have chronic conditions to cope with. Not only is my current one more comfortable to sleep on, but I chose one that goes up and down with the help of a remote control, so I don’t have to rely on flimsy pillows for back support while I’m reading or watching TV.

I Flew Solo For The First Time

Aside from an eighth grade trip to Washington D.C. I had never flown on an airplane without my family. The mere idea was terrifying at first,and despite the short turnaround, I didn’t take it lightly. My friend and I had been planning my visit to Austin, Texas, since late summer, but it had been difficult to find a block of time that worked for both of us until shortly before Thanksgiving. Getting through the airport went smoothly, and I was grateful for the assistance and accessibility. Though the days were slightly unpredictable and required flexibility on my part, I was glad to have a break from the constant noise, and to have some quality time with someone I care for. It was the first time I had stayed with someone closer to my age for longer than just a weekend, and I learned a lot about direct communication and being less afraid to voice what I wanted and needed (which was incredibly different from when I was nineteen/twenty). I realized that I still have some internalized ableism to address, and I cried more openly than I have in months. It was all a breath of fresh air, and something that I felt that I needed to do for myself, in itself. 

I’m On A Continuous Health Journey

I received some news around springtime that while somewhat expected, it still left me asking “what now?” and sent me looking for a full-proof formula on how to care for my body.  I continue to identify my experience based on particular symptoms, rather than the diagnosis that’s in my medical file because I’m not here to argue with anyone about the validity of what’s happening. I took a break from alcohol for a little over a month, and have continued to focus on cutting back and only drinking in moderation. I joined a gym (after having primarily worked out at home with free weights since 2014), and while that’s something I’ll still use if it’s the only option, I’m finding that weight machines provide more support and make more of an impact. 

There’s a lot of nuance, and no day is one in the same. I’m still learning to be okay with that and find peace with it. 

I’m cautiously optimistic about 2024: I’d like to see some professional breakthroughs, and accomplish certain things without harming my physical and mental health. I’d like to get into a writing routine, which I’ve been putting off because writing often brings out my emotional side, and it’s hard being lectured for crying unless it involves tragedy. I want to spend more quality time with certain people, and to have a social life without packing so much into a week, perhaps even a month. I want to feel strong again and have more energy. (First step is cultivating a doable nighttime routine and going to bed before 11pm at least four nights a week). 

I want to continue building a gentle life. 

Here’s to a new year, and may it be what you’ve hoped for, prayed for, and envision it to be. 

Loving Young

These summer months

Have brought a resurgence

In old things new

A fascination

Of what was once insinuated

That when you’re old enough

You box up

Or give away

No longer a child

And children don’t keep their old toys

First it was the 90’s action figures

In all different colors

That I barely remembered

But came to love the show all the same

Then movie about a doll

One of the very first which I played with

That reminded me of the challenges, triumphs, and empowerment

Of being a woman

Twice over I’ve laughed and cried

With my whole self

And group of radioactive turtles

Not quite my favorite or as many memories

But the fresh takes made me giggle

Some might call this a season of nostalgia

When life wasn’t about living through electronic devices

Or social media

But maybe there’s a sense of timelessness to it

Personally, I needed it

A reminder to seek joy

Revel in laughter

Recall what makes you feel lighter

Regardless of whether or not it’s deemed “cool”

It’s not about the past being better

But perhaps seeing it fresh eyes

Introducing it to new generations

Realizing how it shaped you

Or merely because

 indulging in a pop culture phenomenon feels good!

A comfort

When the rest of the world

Especially the media 

Seems so heavy

One could say this is nothing new for me

That I’ve always been childlike 

*Side-eyes boy band CD collection

To the point of being labeled 

Something other than a grown woman

I’m here for the Barbie Energy

The evolved and the reimagined

The magic of revisiting something wonderful

Perhaps a continuation

Keep it going

Let’s keep dreaming

And being in

The things that don’t weigh us down

When Your Career Feels More Like A Maze Than A Path

Upon entering into the workforce, there will be a lot of talk and emphasis on what trajectory your career is going to take. Most likely, you’ll be baptized by the waters of having to do at least one internship before graduation, and maybe even a few afterwards. There’s the pull of the glamor of working in a high-rise office, having a partially built-in social calendar, and all the perks that come with the job itself. People told you that this was the hot new thing, where all the money was at, and you wouldn’t be guaranteed employment for longer than six months if you stuck with your original idea. The possibilities made you feel like the world really was your oyster!

But first you had to pry it open. 

Which at twenty-two and twenty-three is fairly normal, in retrospect. The bare minimum has practically become a rite of passage, and any experience is a good experience. You have to pay your dues and show that you are worthy of the career that you’re pursuing. You’ve been told that hustling and grinding will pay off some day. But what about when a pattern starts to emerge? What about when you realize that your field has changed, and it seems like just qualifying for a role seems like more stress than it’s worth? What about when you don’t know if it’s you or them or something that’s completely out of your control?

To be clear, I’m not a career expert. I thought By now I thought I would have been further along in my journey, and thought that I would have overcome a lot of barriers that many Disabled folks tend to face in the workplace (for the longest time, I thought I could pass as nondisabled in a professional environment. And depending on the eye of the beholder, maybe I did). Sometimes I wonder if there’s a piece of the puzzle that I am missing, or if some things are so ingrained systemically and no one will ever explain how to truly break through it. Sometimes it comes down to knowing what questions to ask, and that often takes a lot of time, courage, and running into dead ends. 

What Do I Want, And What Can I Tolerate?

The first time anyone ever asked me about what I wanted for myself professionally, I had to hold back tears. Since graduating college, all I heard was something to the effect of “a job is a job, and you take what you can get to support yourself.” This attitude can be appropriate when you’re just starting out or if you must do whatever is necessary to financially survive. 

Simultaneously, it can also be dangerous; in my early twenties, I often overlooked warning signs in job postings or management styles within the organization. I ignored my gut when certain practices felt out of line, and I didn’t know how or if I should speak up. Just this year, I took a position without doing an interview (the company wanted to hire me right away, even when I asked to have a conversation beforehand). I received very little support from the get-go, expectations were unrealistic, and management was just flat out awful. I can say without question it was one of the most toxic environments I’ve been in, and I regret having said yes in the first place. 

It’s not always about finding the right niche or an appealing job title. It’s important to consider company culture, work-life balance, and whether or not you’ll be paid a livable wage. 

And sometimes you reach a point where your dream job doesn’t necessarily seem feasible, and that’s okay. Marketing itself has changed so much since I first got into it (and if I’m honest, I went into it so that I could still be creative and not live like a starving artist), and so I’m starting to explore other trajectories where I can do meaningful work and still have time to be creative on the side. Ideally I would love to do copywriting, but if there are just as many (if not more barriers) as marketing, I’m also open to doing project management/coordinator, communications, data entry, or something along those lines. Again, it’s not about specific titles, but doing something that doesn’t make me miserable or drains my mental health trying to get into it, and then trying to function in it. 

Who Do I Talk To?

It’s said that who you know has more influence on getting the job you want than actual talent. One of the first things I learned about networking was to not just rely on recruiters, but to talk to people who come from similar backgrounds, and/or are currently where I want to be. There are several ways to go about this, whether you do in person networking events or stick to the online route Linkedin or Shapr (a Tinder/Bumble style phone app, but for business). Linkedin can be downright intimidating, and the key is conveying the right message: what you have in common, what you want to get out of the conversation, and acknowledging that you know their time is limited and appreciate what they have to give (it helps to have Linkedin Premium, and if that’s not an option, it’s entirely possible to do a little research and find email addresses). It took me several years to learn how to do this, and I don’t always get the kind of response that I want, if at all. It’s easy to assume that no one has time or that it feels intrusive, but I will say that there are people out there who can empathize and are willing to pass on their wisdom and insight. Sometimes all it takes is one person to open the door to an opportunity. 

Finding those who specialize in career coaching and advocacy can do wonders as well. Kelly Nash (of Lipstick and Ink), who has become a dear friend and mentor, walked me through a lot of questions that I had about transitioning out of one field and into another (I knew what I wanted, but overthought the crap out of how to get there. And I’m still working on it). Jo Hamilton (at Expertise At Work) has helped me navigate finding work and being in the workplace with a disability, because it’s a bit of a different ball game when you need accommodations or extra support. 

I will say that you should be wary of being vulnerable with those whose advice might be a little biased. If there’s a generation gap, they might not understand that what was applicable decades ago (or even right before the pandemic) isn’t necessarily applicable now. If someone belittles you for not trying hard enough or projects their fears and insecurities onto you, I’d definitely be careful. I’ve been accused of not wanting to work, and even shamed at one point for supposedly not having enough urgency. It was isolating and frustrating, as though contributing to the economy was the one thing that made me worthy of existence. It’s much easier said than done, but you don’t have to follow or even listen to every piece of advice that you’re given. Set boundaries with yourself at the very least, and know that you’re so much more than what you do for a living.

What Can I Learn, and What’s My Learning Style?

There are always new skills to be learned, and skills to build upon. In my years post-grad, the tricky part is finding what works best. This opinion is controversial, but I believe that unless you’re going for a higher post-graduate degree (Masters, Doctorate, or PHD) then it shouldn’t require being in a traditional in person or even online classroom setting. There are plenty of certificates through Udemy, Coursera, Linkedin Learning, and others that can be done remotely and at a way lower cost. That route is especially useful if you’re already still paying off debt from undergrad, and/or you’re not sure if getting additional certificates will pay off in the end. 

I loved college and I don’t regret attending a four-year University, because I received more than just a degree while I was there. But over the years (and especially the longer it’s been since I’ve been out of the classroom), I’m realizing that I learn a lot better through experience, using tools and programs every day and building muscle memory. Absorbing and then getting tested on information is rarely helpful for me in terms of actually retaining it, and it’s unfortunate (and frustrating) that so few organizations seem to be willing to let their employees learn on the job, or go through extensive training before or when they start. To be superhuman and try to have every part of you dipped in multiple exclusive disciplines is entirely ridiculous. And there was no way I could have learned everything that seems to be required nowadays back in undergrad, because you had to be in one college or the other. 

If you know what you’re good at and you enjoy doing it, you have every right to proclaim to a potential employer (even when they tell you that being talented at a particular discipline is supposedly not enough). The reality is that people need to be supported and set up for success, regardless of how much experience they have. You cannot shoulder all of this responsibility, especially if feedback is such a rarity. 

Rejection, starting over, and trying to find your way (when it feels like you’re walking in the dark) is both lonely and stressful.  It’s important to not be afraid to knock, and to ask questions such as “How can I improve in this area? What skills can I acquire?” The more you ask and the more direct you are, the more confident you’ll become. 

I’m still in the midst of it, taking things one day at a time and letting myself be imperfect in the process. 

I got this, and so do you.

Thirty

It’s been a month-long celebration, another year and a new decade. I have different groups of friends/family, and have been trying to stay as safe as possible with Covid still affecting social gatherings (and my comfort level). My friends and I stayed at a hotel for the evening, starting off with a fantastic photoshoot by a dear woman who loves taking and being in photos as much as I do. It was refreshing to take the time capturing different aspects oy my personality without feeling like we were in a rush (i.e. take the photo and get out of the way). We posed, giggled, and cheered like we were professionals, then made our way to one of the bougiest Italian restaurants I’ve been to in a while (it was worth it!) Post tapas and martinis, we stopped at a new-ish neighborhood bar, merely for the sake of scoping out the vibe and indulging in a little tequila. It wasn’t long before the bottom shelf was starting to get to me, and I signaled that my batteries were starting to run out. As much as I’ve missed dancing (and two friends that were sick), I personally felt that the risk wasn’t worth it. 

I’ve been asked several times how I feel about turning thirty. Leading up to the actual day, it felt weird: I’m still living with family, and don’t have as much independence. My career hasn’t gone in the trajectory that I thought it would, and I’m not where I want to be professionally. But over the last month or so, I’ve experienced a sense of coming home to myself that’s been stronger than ever. Ahh, there I am. 

My twenties were a lot: a lot of learning the hard way. Loss. A lot of anger that was actually masked as grief. Twenty-three to to twenty six were the darkest years I’ve experienced since middle school. I have regrets, and I ultimately wish that I had waited to share certain things and be vulnerable when I was sharing from the scar instead of the wound. I projected a lot of the pain instead of letting it go, and damaged several of my closest and dearest relationships in the process. But I wish I hadn’t carried the weight of it all either; at the end of the day it was the season I was in, a season that I’ve been learning from and trying to give myself grace and compassion ever since. 

When the pandemic happened, and as it continues to play out, I’ve been asking a lot of questions: What do I really want? Is this something that’s going to push me forward in life, or am I basing this decision on the fear of missing out (or what people might think)? When it comes to what I’m feeling, is it my instincts or my insecurities talking?

If there’s one word I’m resting on now, it’s being grounded. To set intentions for the next decade feels overwhelming, but this is what I’m practicing in the next year: 

Getting Out of My Head

I’m an overthinker, and it’s one of, if not my main weakness.I believe in a time and a place to acknowledge feelings and triggers, but ruminating leads me down a rabbit hole that can become paralyzing if I’m not careful. I started writing in my journal again at the beginning of 2022, but making shorter points rather than long, drawn out diary entries. I’m prioritizing spiritual nourishment, physical movement (especially outside) and reading more books instead of being on social media. And with the help of my therapist and developing better coping skills, I’m trying to heal various attachment/abandonment wounds.

Protecting My Energy

I believe in being vulnerable and telling the truth, but I’m more discerning about who has full access to me. I believe in spontaneity, but I really have to trust you if you’re going to call me up after 7 p.m. and ask me to get together. I believe in discussing different opinions, but I can sense when people want to argue for the sake of arguing. I’m not an argumentative person by nature, so emotionally I tend to shut down (despite knowing that most conflict is actually healthy). And I absolutely refuse to run myself ragged until I’m sick from exhaustion, which was common for me to do a decade ago. As much as I want to still experience life, I ultimately want to feel safe and stable. I need rest and relaxation as much as I need togetherness and connection

Holding Loosely

Whether it’s money or my cell phone battery, I’ve clung to it with an iron fist. For as long as I can remember, I’ve had this deep-seated fear of not having enough financially, or running out of money because I spent it on silly things. Much to my annoyance, I was given the nickname “el cheapo” despite knowing these fears stem from how I grew up. That being said, I’ve been fortunate not to have certain income-related stresses; the best thing I can do for myself is be aware, budget, and trust that what I have in that moment is enough (even when it doesn’t feel like it).

Setting Goals, and Leaving Room

I want to write, and to share my story on larger platforms. I want a space that I can call my own, _that ideally both gives me access to the suburbs and the city. I want a romantic partner, someone that feels like home with, rather than just someone to come home to. I’d like to have a family of my own, even though I’m not sure what it looks like at the moment. I used to be so set on certain things a decade ago, and I had a rather glamorous vision of what it should look like.. But what I thought I wanted at that time may not necessarily be what I need in the long run. It’s important to pursue your dreams, but even more so to take stock of them and not be afraid to refine them. When you hold space for the unexpected, that’s where the amazing happens. 

Here’s to new adventures. 

Here’s to new seasons. 

Here’s to thirty.

Safe Home

I’ve always been open to experience
As long as there was respect and communication
Wanting to live like the world was mine
Never mind the confusion from lack of clarification
Dancing, kissing, and going about without a care in the world
Twenty one, twenty five, damn did I feel alive
And realistically I wouldn’t change a thing

//

But I’m coming to a bridge
Where I’ll no longer be a princess
But a queen
Who knows what she wants and what she needs
But has never wanted to cling
To happily ever after
Or chase a wedding day (as if it’s the only thing that matters)
But I can still speak my dreams

//

A partner
A strength and stay
You and I in this together
Grounded and growing
Motivating
Complimenting one another
As friends and as lovers

//

No promises that we can’t deliver
But not worrying about abandonment either
Checking in
Real conversations
Actual communication

//
Cultivating a home of warmth
Building a life of adventure
Individually
And as one
Safe
Secure
Each day as it comes
Not just partners to come home to
But hearts to feel at home with

When You Have Big Feelings

Are you ok with being lonely?
I was without an answer at first
It’s natural and part of human nature
How we’re wired
The initial onset isn’t the worst
I need to be alone at times
To process and recharge
But when the fear of missing out
(and missing others)
That’s when it starts to hurt my heart
Taking my mind captive
As wonders and wanders
Am I being taken for granted?
Not seriously enough
Nearly invisible
And that’s when the slide starts
I’m ok with feelings
But not always with the results
Where I suppress myself
My truths
My needs (and wants)
For the sake of everyone else
Going along to get along
Especially when I want to say
With conviction
Stay with me.

Twenty-Nine

It was not quite a typical “quarantine birthday” as I was determined to avoid that, despite knowing that it would be different this year due to Covid. I experienced eating in an outdoor igloo for the first time, and my best friend and I made our own fun out of playing We’re Not Really Strangers and doing a photoshoot (with a bit of bubbly involved). The day itself initially felt weird, waking up to the last year of my twenties and doing my best to fight off the anxiety that  comes with trying to have reasonable expectations. 

My birthday has always meant a lot to me, and up until recently have been uncomfortable with sharing why. Living with a chronic condition, I’ve often gone along to get along for the sake of not being an inconvenience (at best) and not wanting to to bear the frustration of those around me (at worst). That’s only the tip of the iceberg, but it boils down to a birthday being the one day out of the year where I could vocalize what I wanted and how I wanted it. It’s a common attitude there’s some extra emphasis when you have this self-imposed standard to be the easy child. The selfless person. The compassionate one. Whether or not I have been, or if others would see it that way, is another story. 

It might have been the pandemic itself, or it might have been the gradual unfolding of 2020. Regardless, the desire to advocate for myself has been steadily growing and getting louder. I’ve alluded to it in previous writings, but learning and putting it into practice truly is a process. Carrying weight that isn’t mine, and taking responsibility when I don’t have to is a trauma response. Deconstructing and choosing differently involves a lot of grace, perseverance, and trying and trying again.

Self-advocacy is a huge step, especially when you’ve spent most of your life asking for assistance of some kind. The need to be helped and the need to be heard can coexist, and should never be transactional. I’ve known this in theory, but overthinking has often gotten the best of me.  One of the biggest challenges of this pandemic is having to sit with my feelings, wading through what requires deeper reflection, and what requires letting go of. It’s hard when I’m hurting or frustrated and can’t just go be with people, or seek out adventure on a whim due to the virus.

It’s exhausting to constantly ruminate on what to say, when to say it, and how. And the more I hold back, the more agitated I get. Of course there are times when my opinion isn’t required, and I’m aware of navigating circumstances when I’m overcome with insecurity versus confidence. There should always be a balance of considering viewpoints and feelings with pursuing self-care and things that give you joy. 

It’s not about getting what I want every time, but putting something out in the open so that I’m not saturated by anxiety and resentment down the road. Even if a situation pans out differently than I’d like, at least I did my part to the best of my ability. Growing in relationships, whether with people or with God, require getting out of your head and into your heart. A wise friend once told me that rejection is better than inaction, and I haven’t forgotten that since. 

There have been various small victories thus far: admitting what works and hasn’t worked when it comes to redecorating my room. Not hesitating to follow up on tentative plans if we’re still trying to figure out details. Being adamant about taking a ride-share to a dinner date because I wanted to feel more independent. Saying “because I want to” without a detailed explanation. As I publish this, I’m about to make the kind of phone call that typically has me crawling in my skin, but I’m not going to get anywhere if I don’t take initiative.

And it’s the small victories that I hope and pray will add up to breakthroughs, both personally and professionally. I’m cautiously optimistic, after having seen how everything can change and priorities can shift so quickly. But the work is still important, and necessary,

Here’s to speaking up, speaking truth, and progressing forward!

Twenty-Eight

It was a combination of trying new things within familiar surroundings. The night started out with Mexican food and margaritas (albeit I was trying not to brood given that I  cracked my phone screen after tripping on the sidewalk while walking to the restaurant) and then making our way to a go-to spot that had been decked out in everything Valentines. We karaoke’d the heck out of Shania Twain, drank tequila, and then capped the night off with dancing and belting my heart out to the Backstreet Boys.

Apart from dinner, I don’t think I sat down once.

But once the celebrations end (and I’ve semi-recovered), that’s when the real work begins.

Twenty-seven was not the easiest year; I lost a job and then a relationship within the span of a few months, finding comfort in the freedom to sleep in and wear sweats all day if I wanted to. Depression came at me like the black cloud that it is, and there were days where I had to fight to not allow the grief of my circumstances to consume me. It wasn’t just about what happened specifically, but the fact that it seemed to happen over and over. I resented the lack of control, but simultaneously that’s where I also found clarity.

The sun came out again, and that’s where I genuinely rediscovered my adventurous side. I learned about that consequences that follow when you hold back from asking for what you really want, and the doors that can open when you live like you having nothing to lose. I actually enjoy going to events and outings by myself, because it allows me to focus on being a blessing to people around me, rather then resting in a buffer of being surrounded by who or what I already know.

I couldn’t settle on a singular word as I prayed over my twenty-eighth year. I initially started out with “shine” and the desire to do so in a way that wasn’t always about being gritty or a badass. Just me, cultivating my talents and sharing my gifts without justifying over-explaining. I’ve experienced a lot of self-doubt, especially over the last several years as I build both a life and career for myself: Am I qualified to do this? Do I even have a right to talk about a particular topic when I [probably] have more privilege than others?

And that’s when “breakthrough” popped up; the desire to experience a turning point both personally and professionally, and not give into the urge to hide all the time.

But waiting for that perfect moment to start being who you are isn’t realistic. Momentum is great, but it cannot be the only thing that carries you. There has to be faith, and there has to be discipline. It seems backwards, but breakthrough actually happens when you  use your gifts, exercise your strengths, and pursue your dreams in the midst of outside opinions trying to diminish your glow.

I’ve shied away asking questions, being an advocate, and ultimately elevating my voice because I’m terrified of having my spirit broken in the process. I’ve seen people light a flame, only to burn out time and time again. My biggest concern is having enough emotional energy not only to speak, but to equally engage and listen. I’m grateful to have a platform, and I’m giving myself grace in the midst of learning how to set boundaries, and pausing to respond instead of react. Dealing with the heaviness that comes with push-back is never easy, but no one makes an impact just by sitting on the sidelines.

It doesn’t always have to be loud, large, or fierce. And what you’re capable of doing matters.

Here’s to twenty-eight!