Inner Battles and New Beginnings
Brené Brown said, “When we deny our emotion, it owns us.” Do we still feel like ourselves in the deepest states of our vulnerability? My definition of vulnerability: a vehemence that shows you at your rawest. You are raw and it’s showing. What a daunting and rewarding feeling to feel. It can set you free.
There once was a girl who lived in a normal ass city with a normal ass life, yet she’s lucky & feeling gorgeous even. She walks on pretty stone pathways in Jimmy Choos, Wednesday's breeze lingering in her hair through each step. On the outside she is a vast, and sort of confusing essence, but visibly trying. She proudly and happily resides in Delulustin TX. You may ask yourself if you’ve heard of it, and I promise you have, but instead I ask that you insert yourself there for a moment. Insert yourself into the delulu.
A bitch was neck deep.
The weather got colder, and with each chill I got sadder. And this meant that doing a lot of my usual self care tasks are that much harder to do. The makeup came off and stayed off, and so did the heels. Working was hard and unfulfilling and even demeaning, but I kept at it. I kept going for a long time. I spent more time in bed than outside. When I finally remembered how it felt to be fearless again, my job, as frivolous as it was, fired me.
ME. I have never been fired from anywhere before! This was a shock to the system.
Yes, this was a petty power move from a white woman who never cared about where my career went. She was riding a power high after a promotion and I just happened to be her test dummy. As painful as it was, I, the dummy, was still drilling positivity into my head like a fucking lobotomy. If I stayed in my lane, or hell, even woke up with a smile, I can cruise this out until I find a better job.
This exquisite little plan was cut awfully short, and it was a hack job so I am cleaning up the mess. It feels like a break up, except I have to learn to be able to let go, forcibly. In turn, I have to dismantle my home, again, and find a new one. I am heartbroken by the thought. 4 months into living here and I’m taking down my christmas tree before christmas, breaking down furniture I just bought, and removing the art from my walls. It’s incredibly sad removing the nails of everything I hung, and wrapping my glassware in tissue paper, yet again.
When I was a kid, we moved around a lot, and the only place I felt real stability was in our little townhouse in Arlington. We made it there after several years of family member’s extra rooms and new-old apartments. My brother and I had our own rooms, and stopped being scared of the dark at night. I made video diaries, and invited my best friends over for sleepovers. My parents would pick me and my friends up from school, and we’d lay on my bedroom floor laughing at youtube videos, and braiding each other’s hair. We had rented this house temporarily of course, as we moved to Austin about a year later, but we had made this a home. I had made it my sanctuary. I was just a girl, and I had nothing to worry about except for good grades, and wishing I was allowed to wear makeup. I had it easy.
I always got really comfortable where we landed when my parents would break the news that we were moving again. And each time my heart shattered because of what I would be leaving behind. Looking back at it, as a child who was raised by parents who were still growing up, I never learned emotional regulation. Every setback that presented itself to me was the end of the world. I was getting older and understanding what was happening and how high the stakes were. And when we moved to Manor, my life changed completely. We had lived there for 7 years, and it was the longest we had lived anywhere. When I moved out at 18, I promised myself that any home of mine would be mine for a long time. Being out on my own showed me that it’s not always that easy. That life has a way of picking you up and dropping you off somewhere else.
That’s the fuckery of all this.
Jobs aren’t everything, especially not at this age, and going through this has not only taught me that, but that they dont estimate your value as a person. When you choose kindness, compassion, and love, THAT shows who you really are. So instead of storming out of that office and cussing out my manager, I am going to move out without a hitch, and continue living my life.
This time next year I'll be a few weeks away from turning 22 and this will all just be a distant memory. I'll be a couple months from graduating college, and living somewhere adorable and chic. I’ll be looking ahead, and keeping my eye on the prize. My life is amazing and beautiful just as it is. And there is always a little beauty in tragedy.
I’m moving on. Not to a new chapter. A new book.
xo, zo
