I don’t know about you, but I shrink into myself when I’m not feeling my best. I isolate myself from friends, family and even my love who’s learned to give me space.
I’m not where I thought I would be in life at this age. And I get it, that’s most people story, but it doesn’t feel that way. Am I right?
Some days, it creeps up on me while watching tv or when I’m about to hop in the shower.
But.
Other days, it rams into me like a Mac Truck destroying my day.
I’ve had bad days. Lawd knows I have, but the worst one was October 5th. That’s specific, I know, but there’s a reason.
When I woke up, I was excited for a new beginning. A recruiter I’d been in touch with kept blowing me up about a position. It was perfect timing. I was working, but I wasn’t happy about where I was working. I loved what I was doing, but the managers didn’t respect my time, marriage or me.
I was more than ready for the next opportunity. I said so after summarizing my work experience. Then, she excused herself to look at the position that was on her desk.
As I waited in the small room, I looked out the windows. I could see employees in the building across the way. Seeing them, made me imagine the type of work I’d finally be doing in the city.
I straightened up and waited for her to return.
I waited.
And waited some more.
I eventually got the nerve to check the time on my phone that was tucked inside my portfolio. That can’t be right. There’s no way I’ve been sitting here for 30 minutes. What is she doing?
Through the wall, I could hear another woman doing the same thing I did 30 minutes before. Then, my ears perked up and I cocked my head to the side to get a closer listen. The other voice in the room was …nah, it can’t be. Is that my recruiter?
If she doesn’t come back in five minutes, I’m leaving. Yaszy, chill. There has to be a reason for this.
I walked out of the room with half mind to knock on the next interviewer’s door. Instead, I headed to the front desk, told them what the recruiter said and asked to see her.
She appeared from the hallway from which I just came. She forgot about me.
I. was. livid.
I stomped out of her office on a mission. First, to get lunch my heels pounding onto Seventh Avenue while thinking of ways to make her pay for the way she treated me. Second, to head to my much needed doctor’s appointment that I should have canceled. I didn’t. Long story short, I began weeping at the checkout counter while handing over my debit card.
I cried the entire drive home and during most of the episodes of Luke Cage. And I cried all. night. long. I was devastated. Every time I took one step forward, I was knocked back two spots.
Poor Tracey. He didn’t recognize me. I didn’t recognize me. I felt defeated, hopeless and broken without repair. And it showed. It showed.
With tear-filled eyes, I cursed God without shame in the night. That’s how I brought in my 29th birthday. The only thing I blew out was hot air from huffing and puffing struggling to breath through my mouth. In the wee hours of the morning, I questioned what do I have to look forward to this year. If this is how I’m bringing in the last year of my 20s, what is the point of fighting so hard for a dream that I’m not meant to have.
Since that day, I’ve been praying that I was wrong.
There’s less than six months to my big 3-0 and I have no idea what’s in store for me. What I do know is that it’s okay to not be okay. It’s okay to say so without feeling the shame or guilt because we’re human. I’m learning there’s power in the journey. Regardless how many pot holes you hit along the way.
I was reminded of that after hearing a quote by Charles Dickens. He said “suffering has been greater than all other teaching. I have been bent and broken, but I hope into a better shape.”
I can honestly say that I’m looking forward to what 30 has to offer.
The reshaping and all.
