I’m stuck but not in a confused state of mind. I don’t feel the quicksand that used to overwhelm my conscious self. Instead, it feels like sticky putty, keeping me from moving but not engulfing me with dread. I just need to make an extra effort to break free, which is totally in my capacity to do.

I want to push back on the idea that I lost my way. I didn’t deviate into a path of conformity. I went down a rabbit hole and came out with insight, clarity, and a resolve that could only be carved in the fire of chaos. And yet, the frustration of stagnation became more unbearable than the fear of the unknown.

Carrying the weight of success and ambition for people afraid to shine and take up space has been draining, and yet I volunteered for a job no one asked me to take on. In the process, I battling myself with this idea that I needed to relaunch my brand in case it needs to serve as a backup for my current job. My online presence was neglected like a misfit toy off on an island in the land of delulu.

I started to believe that settling for an ordinary life was enough for me. In all of the ways I don’t feel enough for others, I lowered my standards with how I expected myself to show up.

I stopped wearing makeup.

I stopped working out.

I stopped eating healthy.

I stopped talking to friends.

I allowed myself to be consumed by an illusion of a proper career complete with a membership to one of the most powerful unions. All I had to get it was compromise on my vision.

My time there has an expiration date and I have to stop worrying about it being set by someone else. I had to remind myself that I cannot want for others more than they are willing to aspire to for themselves.

For everyone who doesn’t feel ready, who doesn’t want to do extra work, who just wants to exist - their feelings are valid…for them. However, their lack of ambition is not my burden to carry.

I missed hearing voices of optimism. I want people who will hear how batshit crazy my ideas are and encourage me to pursue them anyway. Too many people are playing it safe and coloring in between the lines because it’s what their trauma taught them to do.

My trauma continues to educate me on life lessons but it does not guide my direction.

As I start a new chapter of audacity, I embrace the ire that comes with speaking my truth against the backdrop of humility, for being humble only serves those who benefit from our surrendering authority…which I simply prefer not to do anymore.

I’m sitting at my beloved cafe, noshing on a pastry and trying to hydrate the summer angst away. It’s 5pm and I’ve been home since 2. I now have a car that allows me to feel like an adult and a job that reminds me of the sacrifices I have to make to feel comfortable.

While so much has changed, so many things remain the same. I stopped being an overworked CBO middle management worker and became an overworked union worker - same school but in a different corner of hell.

I don’t even know where to begin with updates because the same situations I want to change are the ones I’ve enabled for so long that freedom and ease seem unattainable without medication.

I continue to say yes when I should say no but now I have a cute little speedy car to at least give the illusion of independence.

I am in a loop of relaunching without having the strategy I’m so known for having. What I’m learning about burnout is the sporadic bouts of fatigue that spring up whenever I get the slightest bit of mojo to work on my website. It’s almost like a trauma response to working beyond my emotional and mental capacity. The more I want to enjoy leisure time, the guiltier I feel about not grinding myself to exhaustion.

I’ve decided to turn this substack diary into a book, with a more structured flow of navigating nuance in life and career. I’ve been holding back on what I’ve experienced working in education and I have a major grudge to unleash about my crazy ex-supervisor who I still have to co-exist with at work…until I don’t. Let’s see who leaves first. (very likely me)

I’m also 2 quarters away from my master’s degree, hopefully. And I’ve got health issues that I neglected due to a toxic attachment I have with work and a secret crush that started to crush my spirit. Add in a new puppy and cancer for a 96 year old grandmother and you’re almost completely caught up of where my life stands (or falls), depending on your perspective.

I now get to spend 2.5 hours in a car internally talking to myself instead of walking around the rats at the 59th street station so my snarky voice, although rusty, is not completely gone.

Reinvention doesn’t happen in a neatly packaged storytelling journey. It comes from the painful messy middle. It comes with breaking yourself in order to realize a new version of who you can be, when given the time to go through it.

Once all is ready for a formal reintroduction, you’ll be the first to claim dibs on my new digital presence. I’ll be opening comments here so y’all can share what’s good (or bad) with you and we can figure all of this shit out together, from the comforts of wherever you call home.

I don’t like who I’m becoming and that’s saying a lot.

Acknowledging how one is mentally spiraling is a positive thing. Old me would have shamed myself for so many reasons. New me is more forgiving especially when the voices around me are not.

Despite how others might view it, I do take responsibility for my choices. What I find interesting about that sentiment is that when accountability looks a certain way for me - suddenly I’m the problem. It takes guts to decide that life is not working in the way you expect.

It takes courage to do something unpopular about it.

I know I need to get back on meds and eventually I will. Also, eventually I will have new stripes with a new direction - preferably with palm trees. I’ve let go of way too many things to accept that this kind of emotional chaos is supposed to be my new normal. I’ve never been one to conform and I don’t know why I feel the urge to do so now. I’m working a job people would kill to have. And yet, the unsettled feelings I have are not because of I don’t love what I do. I simply don’t enjoy how I do it.

And I am supposed to feel bad about being selective with how I want to spend my life??

I am supposed to suck it up and not just walk away??

The “responsible” thing to do would be to wait it out because we’re not supposed to quit when something is difficult.

Right?

• When are we supposed to find something better?

• When are we supposed to feel good about where and how we spend upwards of 8-10 hours per day?

• When do we get to choose who want to work with?

These are all luxuries that the upper echelon get to have while those struggling to build a life that is tenable are expected to compromise on the very things that could improve who we are and how we thrive.

I feel guilty for quitting my last job. I feel guilty for wanting to leave this one and move to Miami. This guilt imprisons me to a life that is not lived for me but for the acceptance of who I think I need to be in order to be of worth.

In school, at work, with friends, and in life - I was never and will never be the first one picked. I will not be considered without first declaring my presence. I will not be celebrated unless I dim my own light. These truths set the foundation for how I need to approach decision making within all areas of my life.

Because if I am trying to accommodate my entire existence for people who don’t care enough to appreciate my connection, then I shouldn’t feel guilty about centering my own needs and desires?

This is always a story of reinvention. The nuance of my life is that I want to live it even when I feel like I don’t deserve to be here.

• Am I in crisis simply because I’m unrelenting in how I participate in public storytelling?

• Am I seeking attention with my musings?

• Am I complaining about choices that aren’t so black/white?

There is an intersection of audacity and vulnerability for all of us to reimagine who we can become. Freedom was always a core desired feeling for me and it was more around physical freedom because who doesn’t want to sunbathe in the Amalfi Coast?

The older I get, the more recognize that freedom comes with surrendering expectations. This kind of freedom is liberating, or so I hear. However, liberation when your entire life depends on being tethered to the illusion of acceptance, comes at a price that may be too expensive to pay…at times.

This is why the word investment is so powerful in entrepreneurship. Because the freedom that potentially comes from self-employment depends on how you empower the inner rebel to spend currency on faith. The return on investment is joy but the cost to experience such returns means you have to bet on yourself first.

You’re either all in or you’re out.

And this is what I have to remind myself everytime I wake up at 4:45am. Because if I’m not all in on myself, I can’t expect anyone else to invest in me either.

I feel so disconnected from who I was when I started this journey 2 years ago. April / May marks the anniversary of my moderate breakdown, one where I can only speak about in parts. I think about that time and I can’t remember who I was. What they don’t tell you about the transformation journey is how deep amnesia can be when trying to evolve into someone else.

I still don’t feel like a butterfly and yet I don’t remember life as a caterpillar. I only remember the feeling of sadness in a way that I had not felt in decades.

When I bring up feeling suicidal, I get dismissive comments that my life is not that bad. When I talk about the persistent suicidal ideations, I get met with cynical responses that everyone thinks about it. When I sugarcoat the depth of my darkness, I’m told that I’m exaggerating. When I share too much, I’m told I need to go to therapy. When I don’t share anything, I’m told I have trust issues and should let people in.

Sometimes it’s nuance. Sometimes it’s being fucked on both sides.

Having spring break stunted by my need to get paid more, I’m complaining about needing to work. I’m complaining about feeling overwhelmed. I heard some bullshit about how “gratitude” means saying “I get to” but it feels like spiritual bypassing.

• I get to feel anxiety?

• I get to have sleep deprivation.

• I get to feel lonely.

• I get to have crippling debt.

• I get to have health issues.

• I get to think about suicide.

See how that shit sounds?

I should be able to talk about feeling sad in the same way I talk about feeling happy. I should feel free to disclose intrusive thoughts without the judgement that comes from believing only good thoughts are valid.

All the core planets are stationed direct and so is my throat chakra. What I learned during this season of retrograde was more than just inward reflections. I’m recognizing how far I’ve come and the price I’m still paying for changing my stripes.

New season…new vision. I used to feel bad about starting over again until I realized that staying the same doesn’t work for me. So much has changed and while some things stay the same, I’ve changed how I experience those growing pains. Reframing one’s perspective changes everything.

Instead of looking at loss as something to no longer have, I rewrite the moment as an opportunity to live a new experience. What I don’t like about “get to” is how it feels like a privilege. Life is not a luxury to be put on a pedestal. It feels like I’m gaslighting myself when I take traumatic experiences and rebrand them a necessity for life. I don’t “get to” feel like shit. I “simply” acknowledge the emotion and figure out a way to process the experience.

Then I have a choice…I can make them my personality or I can use them as anchors for plot twists in the story of my life.

The nuance is not in the “either or” but in the “yes and so what.”

It’s spring break and in the education world that means no work…for those who have a healthy work-life balance. I do not and so I’ll be working days during spring break. Partly because I am beyond overwhelmed with my new role, and I’m recognizing how that is all by design.

I have always had a dysfunctional relationship with time but the way I attach myself to the concept of busyness would make any psychotherapist salivate. I hide behind being busy. I always thought I hid behind entrepreneurship but that was just an expression of my tendency to self-isolate and martyr myself without having the luxury of a captive audience.

I don’t do well with idle time. The guilt of ease and the shame of wanting to enjoy a life leisure leaves out the part where nothingness is only fun when it’s a shared experience.

I wonder if this is why I stay at my traditional job. For years, it was easy to fall into the hole of being socially awkward and claiming that identity to justify having so few genuine connections. I know people but I don’t really know people to the extent that I would consider them beyond an acquaintance.

The few people I consider friends don’t expect me to perform friendship for them. They don’t treat me like a commodity and bounce once I am no longer doing something for them. They accept my presence for the sake of presence.

Work friends that tether the “work” as a condition for the friendship are not on the same level as those who would help be burn some shit down. And yet I exhaust myself with “work” and delude myself into thinking that I have a purpose which requires the exploitation of my generosity and loyalty.

All of this is a ruse to disguise the fear of visibility and keep me small enough to be acknowledged but not small enough to go unnoticed. And as I dismantle the ways I feel inadequate, I find myself surround by people who are comfortably settled in staying small and I don’t know how to manage that disconnect. I wrestle with the idea of ambition because it speaks to my trauma wounds and I am not ready to surrender what keeps me from going off the deep end.

Capitalism doesn’t allow for leisure or ease when you come from the projects. The only generational gift passed down is scarcity, as both a reality and mindset. As a daydreamer, the life I imagine feels so distant and I’ve worked my ass off to heal from the limiting beliefs that convinced me I didn’t deserve it.

I wanted to enjoy spring break but to escape a toxic supervisor, I left my position and took a 20k pay cut, or as I call it, the pendeja tax. So while I would love to sleep in for a week, I have to hustle to compensate for the lost wages by working double duty. Again, my woe is me party came as a DIY kit. I inflicted all of this sadness onto myself.

Sleep deprivation is considered a badge of honor by some. How often do we play the “I haven’t slept” game to see who compromised their health more? The race to the grave is a competitive sport and I was never one to enjoy losing. But as I get older, clarity comes more freely. Between the masters and rebuilding my business, having no downtime comes with a newfound respect.

I am not busy for the sake of distracting myself from the loneliness of life.

I am busy because I am trying to thrive despite the loneliness of life.

I knew this job would test me but I was not prepared for the lessons I’d learn. Having worked alone for almost 2 decades, I realize I love working with people from a distance. I don’t consider myself an empath anymore. I’m recognizing how much bullshit that concept is.

I’m watching White Lotus and watching the interaction of the resort staff. As I figure out a way to acclimate to my new position, I’m confronted with a new lesson I need to work through - that of self-worth. It’s no coincidence that I’m battling a tough 2nd house transit. After seeing how far down the salary totem pole I am, the smack in the face moment is one where I may need to recalibrate my work ethic to align with my compensation.

The working world functions in a very exploitative way - either where employers will run you down or you do the overburdening for them. Maybe I’m biased. I’m an eldest daughter from a Roman Catholic Puerto Rican family where shame and sacrifice is our default setting.

In many ways, I’ve unpacked and heal from some of that toxicity but self-deprecation still creeps in. And now, this White Lotus show is not helping. Income inequalities is a passion point for me and I didn’t know how much until now.

I feel defeated, anger, and as if I will always live as someone with a damaged root chakra.

When I want to rest, I hustle. When I want to break, I hustle harder. Nothing about my life has been about ease because whether it’s a core wound or the consequences of capitalism, my birthright is that of the help. I don’t consider myself a people pleaser but my desire to help speaks to how I may have been condition to not accept my soverignty as my own.

This might explain my desire for entrepreneurship. This might speak to why I advocate for self-expression and independence.

I sometimes wonder if entrepreneurship is a trauma response.

• Am I drawn to self-employment because I grew up in the projects?

• Am I ambitious because I was taught that my worth is directly tied to what I can do for others?

• Am I whimsical and quirky because fantasy is where I don’t feel invisible or hurt?

• Am I a writer because I was made to feel like I had nothing of value to say?

I’m sure there’s a strong correlation between my vocation and the battle scars from my lived experience. I also think this is an example where “YES AND” applies.

The world as we know it is constantly shifting and having a PhD in uncertainty makes me well prepared to pivot, reinvent, and start new at the drop of a dime. I could look at what shaped me as a blessing or curse. I could position my personality to thrive or hide.

So much of who we are and why we’ve embodied the version of us that gets to fully experience this lifetime is a gift in itself. We genuinely are spiritual beings navigating this human experience through the lens of toxic capitalism.

None of us are getting out of this alive and how we choose to play the cards we’re dealt is how we make magic where there’s none to be believed.

We all make sacrifices and hope they’re worth. More times than not, they won’t be. How we integrate the losses is just as important as how we celebrate the wins. All we can do is have faith that we are exactly where we are meant to be especially when we know we can be somewhere better.

I’m in a limbo state of mind.

Between retiring what I’ve known to be true and embodying a version that is more aligned with who I want to be, it’s hard to totally let go of what has demonstrated results.

Sales, marketing, and persuasion have roots in manipulation. I teach it and do my best to apply a nuanced approach so that I am not regurgitating toxic principles. It’s hard enough when my students look to Elon Musk as a leader to emulate and I have to help them unpack that bullshit. I straddle a murky line of empowering them to apply critical thinking while also explaining how they’ve been lied to all this time. This is easier to do with adults and yes, I’ve had to have these conversations with people who should absolutely know better.

When I think of growth and healing, the “what’s in it for me” conversation is harder to have, whether that’s with someone else or internally. If we don’t feel our own self-worth, it’s hard to believe we deserve better. However, we absolutely can have that conversation when it’s time to talk about what we want from others.

It’s almost as if we were conditioned to exist from the “takers” perspective where entitlement is the default setting.

With businesses, it’s all about “what do I get from purchasing this?” or “what are you giving me that I want and need?” It’s not about the business. It’s about our own self-interest.

With relationships, it’s about “what are you giving me?” or “how are you filling a void I have?” It’s not about reciprocity. It’s about our own self-interest.

We throw in concepts of boundaries as a way to create a barrier - sometimes for self-preservation. The idea of a boundary is to create a perimeter that you don’t want breached.

The grey area with all of this is that community requires a shift in expectations. We can’t be individualistic and community-centric at the same time. Ego does not serve the collective - that’s not in it’s nature.

As someone who is learning to embrace the other side, there’s a lot of unpacking to be done that calls for being uncomfortable with the things that we work hard to avoid. Whether that’s confrontation of one’s self or others, growth only happens when we are able to address the challenges that keep us stuck.

Habits and patterns that allow us to stay safe, while they may keep us safe, they don’t allow for growth.

The unknown is full of adventures and surprises with moments of fear and anxiety. It is also a place of emotional fulfillment and resiliency with opportunities to shine and thrive.

So when I hear “what’s in it for me” I can’t help but cringe at the idea that my existence is designed exclusively for your benefit.

Discerning which one is which takes practice. And I say this as someone with a lifelong track record as a pendeja. When boundaries feel like a prison, it’s easy to get swept up in the chaos of people pleasing to where your identity is tethered to the level of joy others have with your labor.

I’m hoping to break through those blocks so that I don’t continue to fall into the trap of expecting myself to only have worth when it’s convenient to others. This also applies to how others expect me to show up in their lives.

Because my presence needs to meet my own needs first before they can accommodate yours.

I’m trying to make spaghetti squash. I tried watching Conclave. I’m waiting for some chips to arrive because someone finished the bag I got yesterday. I’m reading articles and have time to brainstorm my pedi colors for this weekend.

I’ve got something I haven’t enjoyed in 2 years, possibly longer…time without stress, guilt, or shame.

I’m in between seasons. I’m waiting for the new quarter of grad school to begin. I’m waiting for my replacement at work to get hired. I’m waiting for the retrograde and eclipse seasons to end.

I’m slowly liberating myself for the toxic identity of hustler and learning to embrace the new brand of me.

I still have laundry to do. I still have a mess to clean. I’m nowhere near perfect when it comes to daily routines or managing my tasks at work. But I am no longer in a constant loop of flux. I am embodying a transition towards realized progress.

I might give myself time to daydream with my new playlist. I might even peruse apartment therapy to get some ideas. Eventually I will develop my digital offerings so I can resume the business from a place of intentionality instead of desperation.

And maybe this season of calm is short lived but at least it’s an opportunity to live a new way of being.

I want to get a PhD and as I was reading the one that stands out to me, I hear the inner critic chiming in. Only thing is that inner critic becomes an external one when I tell the wrong people. To be clear, even the right people play the role of saboteur, intentionally or not.

I have a 3.83 GPA and it would have been flawless if I hadn’t missed an email asking for a discussion post by Friday instead of Sunday. I am more than half way done and don’t expect to fall below the bar I’ve set. I’m older, wiser, and more in tune with my own rhythm, something I never had when I was in my 20s or even 30s.

I have a profound desire and passion to research CPTSD and I have a theory on how entrepreneurship can bridge the gap for teenagers and young adults struggling to thrive while dealing with prolonged trauma.

This has been a nagging intellectual itch that I am slowly exploring. As I move along with my Masters, I know what direction to continue pursuing when I am done…PhD in Educational Psychology.

The program I want is well within reach. And yet all I can think about is what will those who I respect say when I share this goal. I imagine them to expect me to pay my dues first. I “should” acquire more relevant work experience.

Should I wait 5 years? Is that enough time to accumulate more battle scars before feeling worthy of an advanced degree? By then, I’ll be 53 entering a 5 year program, making me a “young” 58.

What if 5 years is not enough time? I know people who put in decades and still stop short full of imposter syndrome and projecting their inadequacies onto others. Should I clock a decade first, maybe go back and get an undergraduate degree in Psychology first and work my way up the ranks before deciding to feel worthy of an advanced degree?

What makes me qualified? Is having the desire enough to justify the pursuit?

Men will collect accolades like they’re Pokemons and no one questions their drive. I decide to hit the gas on my career and suddenly I’m moving too quickly.

I am not afraid of my ambition. I advocate for it. I’ve had to fight myself and the expectations of others who prefer my silence, complicity, and shrinking down.

I have a collegue who I have had repeated conversations with about their power, authority, and professional presence. I’ve coached without coaching, consulted without expectation, and overextended my generosity like someone who lacks boundaries would.

I have a genuine desire to empower others. It might be why I like working with young adults. It might also be a reflection of my wounds, where I act out in order to heal a neglect from childhood. I could rationalize they ways I sacrifice myself and justify self-betrayal as a form of people pleasing. Maybe not to the degree as others, I recognize the ways I accommodate others before my own needs is a reflection of my fears.

However, this rant is not a self-deprecating musing. It’s a bold re-affirmation of how confidence needs to be publicly celebrated or it becomes that tree no one hears falling.

It speaks volumes that I am more comfortable sharing my vision with strangers on a Substack. I’m also getting more particular about who is considered a friend, acquaintance, and coworker.

The world could end tomorrow and it would still be too early to pursue my vision.

We have to get to a point where the inner critic becomes a slight whisper, loud enough to make it’s presence known but not loud enough to make an impact.

It’s post eclipse and I’m still riding a wave of mental dysfunction. It feels like a fog of smoke in my brain, clouding my good judgement and testing how much I’ve emotionally matured. Therapy has helped me with regulating my response.

I could be a lot bitchier and I hope people are grateful for the evolved version of me.

This weekend I am reflecting on life choices. If all goes through as plan, I will have an almost perfect GPA for grad school, likely making me eligible for honor societies. For someone who barely finished undergrad with a 2.3, this feels like a tremendous milestone. I recognize how far I’ve come even though it feels like I do it kicking and screaming along the way…kinda like my students. Maybe that’s why I resonate so much with them.

I’m hearing a chatter in my mind, heart, and spirit that is planting a seed of authorship. I’ve never felt the pull to write a book as much as I do now. I’m done with the workbooks, guides, and planners. I want to write a “book book.” Something with substance and potential for mass appeal. I’ve been a storyteller for so long and now I am ready for the next iteration of my brand as an author.

It’s time.

The Nuance of Reinvention is the name of this Substack and could also be fitting for my book. Writing this with no expectation of converting clients frees up my creative flow in a way that can only come without having an ulterior motive. I’m not writing to get clients. I’m not writing to convert leads for an online course.

I’m writing to serve as an example for those who want to purge their demons without compromising the integrity of their soul. In many ways I feel past my prime and I have reconciled how I feel about that. I am, in fact, getting older and age doesn’t have to come with an expiration date. I know none of us are getting out of this alive. I simply want to transition from living to being alive, or vice versa - depending on how you see it.

I also recognize that in order to build a vision, I have to be patience with laying the foundation first. One day, I will turn around and see the house I want to call home and when that day comes, I want to be ready to sustain it without the anxiety of feeling like it’ll fall apart.

If that means reinventing myself a thousand times, so be it. I want to break free from my own mental prison and writing about how I escaped my own emotional hell feels like a book that could resonate with others.

The fear of excitement scares me. In a moment when I should be celebrating a milestone and accomplishment, I am knee deep in anxiety and sadness.

Growth is a complicated process of honoring something new while also making space to grieve what was let go. I want to be happy about this new job. I can’t get myself to that point and I know I shouldn’t force myself but I wonder if I will ever reach that authentic place of gratitude.

There has to be a catchy name for this hybrid version of imposter syndrome and survivor’s guilt. The juxtaposition of feeling like you shouldn’t win because you don’t deserve even though you know you worked your ass off for it and hate feeling like you quit something, despite how miserable it made you.

It’s almost as if the expectation of feeling bad is the norm. The wellness industrial complex would shame me for not thinking positive. I feel selfish for not wanting to compete for the gold medal in the struggle Olympics. After all, other people are less fortunate and I should be grateful for having opportunities. And I am not ungrateful.

I want to elevate my career in a way that is meaningful to me without feeling like I need to be exploited, by myself and others.

I have a new job that values my disregard for boundaries except when it comes to serving the students. It’s almost as if people are only ok with your wellness as long as it doesn’t impact what they can extract from you. This Venus retrograde in my 3rd and 2nd houses are challenging me to assert my throat chakra muscles so I can advocate for myself but at what cost?

I know people operate from their level of growth.

This applies more than just interpersonal relationships. When I hear boundaries, it reminds me of the connections we create with anyone including potential customers. How much do you devalue your worth in order to accommodate other people’s budget - whether that budget is full of money, love, or attention?

I want to celebrate this new job but my hesitation comes from knowing that wins often come at a price and I shut down when I recognize that I’ve overspent on a vision that speaks to my wounded self, craving any acknowledgement even at the expense of my spark.

Confession time: I’m taking meds and struggling with the complicated morality of it.

I’m getting weekly semaglutide shots and I don’t know how I feel about it. I have no judgement issues with taking medication that supports your wellness journey. The moral dilemma I have is that I don’t have an active prescription for it…and yet I am willing to compromise my health for an ideal that is not my own.

I’m not going to argue whether I should or shouldn’t do something. We all make choices that serve who we are in that moment. I could easily wait to see if a physician would look at my lifestyle, medical history, and then hope their own projections aren’t factored in to whether they want me to take what is often referred to a a quick fix.

I’m having some side effects that the “hospital of Google” says is normal and yet every Sunday night I sit with my thoughts and feel a combination of shame and sadness. What is it about my perception of self that would have me risking my physical health for a medication that may or may not help? Why couldn’t I wait until a doctor deems it OK?

I rationalize it in my mind and say well if junk food poisons our body, why do we socially accept that so freely but not something to curb the emotional eating behavior? What is the hangup with wanting ease and simplicity?

I’m also in a weird headspace about why I’m willing to sacrifice myself for an illusion of perfection. I’m writing this on the express D train, en route to getting my driver’s license renewed, and feeling all sorts of bad for leaving work 10 minutes early to do so. I’ve set the expectation that if I am willing to exploit my well-being, others should be allowed to do the same. And I use that train of thought with the shots.

If I’m willing to drink 7 glasses of wine and 2 shots of Patron, then how is that any different from taking unprescribed medication?

I’m in my messy era. Nothing make sense and I will go out of my way to justify it. I really am that close to quitting on the spot. It might curb all those cravings I can’t seem to shake.

We champion the butterfly and thank the caterpillar for its’ sacrifice - but what of when the cocoon is reflecting a limbo state of ugly? How do we categorize that in-between space where internalized chaos becomes the default?

I would love to have healthy self-esteem. If I did, I wouldn’t need this Substack. If I did, I’d be so much further than where I am. If I did, I wouldn’t hate that I’m not where I expected to be at this stage of life. But this is where I’m at.

I’ve been resonating with snake symbolism and wonder if it is because I constantly feel like I need to shed my self. Snakes are spiritual beings, moving in slience and with a lethal bite. I don’t feel lethal in any way but Pluto jacking up my first house has definitely given me an aire of destruction. Figuring out how to move in this world knowing that your presence rattles others is a daunting realization to have. It’s why I wonder about my own dysmorphia.

If I don’t reflect the vision that is palpable to the masses, am I worth the effort?

I can’t articulate how much I fucking hate nuance. It’s admitting that two conflicting things are true at the same time. It’s acknowledging how small I aim to be in a world that thrives with me being big…figuratively and literally speaking.

The celebration of a birthday should include the mourning of who we’ve had to become in order to embrace a newly grown person. I have a new birth day this weekend and gone are the days of panic attacks and trips to the doctor’s out of fear of potential heart attacks.

I dreaded my birthday and now I’ve unlocked a new sadness with age…intentional invisibility. I like to acknowledge birthdays and it feels like projection because I also like to be recognized when it’s my own.

I go out of my way to make others feel seen, often to the detriment of being ignored. My word for 2025 is reciprocity and this has been the the season of forgiving myself for return the attention to detail that I have for them. The awakening comes with realizing how much I’ve given to people who never intended to return the affection in-kind. And no, I don’t believe in doing without expectation of reciprocity.

Life is about exchanging energy, and money is only one frequency that we participate in. The other is connection so when the bridge that tethers us together is only kept up by own efforts, I can’t be surprised or upset when it crumbles without me putting in all the work. I was never good at relationships but I am good at acknowledging people when they think no one is looking. It was unrealistic and foolish of me to expect the same.

Birthdays used to teach me about the ways I’m not living up to my potential, but this year it’s teaching me about how I need to disengage from the connections that don’t consider me at all. Giving notice at my job showed me who benefited from me accommodating them at the expense of my well-being. I got to see who reaped the benefits of my shitty boundaries.

The metamorphosis stage that comes with closing one chapter and starting a new one. The phoenix rising from the ashes of sadness into the fire of passion because one cannot fully actualize their potential without shedding the ways they sabotage.

We recognize birthdays as milestones and, for some, they also serve as a coming of age moment. Birthdays serve as a catalyst. It’s not about celebrating a new year. It’s about who’s grateful that you are here to honor the world with your presence for another 12 months.

Who is grateful for having you in their lives?

Words are only as impact as the value you give them. Anyone can say happy birthday. Not anyone can say it with the pride that comes from having an established relationship with you. Not everyone will mean it too. My lesson this year is to honor people where they’re at.

I just need to remember to leave them where they are so that I can better distribute my whole self to people willing to do the same.

My word for 2025 is reciprocity after all…

I’m struggling to decide what my next move is going to be.

Oh and about that catchy business name…nevermind.

Ask me tomorrow and my answer will be different. Engage me next week and my rationale will be very lax. My free spirit essence is not for those who are reality driven. Why I attract earth sign people is beyond me. I think it might have to do with how I hide behind the veil of an endless hustle that I give the illusion of being responsible until you get to know the indecisive hot mess of my Pisces / Libra combo.

Good luck getting me to be discreet and down to earth. My mind literally lives in the clouds.

This new moon in my 2nd house of Pisces is asking me to remember my worth. I am feeling compelled to be unapologetic in my authority even when those who shrink around me feel like I am too grandiose. I used to be that person who drank the mediocrity punch, one that was spiked with imposter syndrome and guilt.

Now, as Pluto traverses through my 1st house, I am embolden to assert my audacity in a way that 25 year old me would feel both intimidated and envious.

I never wanted my growth to come at the expense of others however at some point I can’t continue to bring people on a journey they didn’t sign up to take. The last 2 years have been a season of accommodating everyone else that I burned out and resented how no one came to throw a life vest as I drowned. And now that I am back on solid ground, I want to leap with intention into a new elevated version of my life but I don’t know how.

I haven’t been in this self-first space for a while and it feels refreshing. Loneliness has never felt as familiar as it does now…and as someone gearing up to close out their 40s (in two-ish years) I am ready to accept my fate.

At some point, we have to reconcile with the life we choose instead of mourning the life we thought was our birthright. I know I could have had a different path and it doesn’t do me any good to blame myself for myself.

We talk so much shit about imposter syndrome and are quick to rebrand regret with something catchy for the sake of capitalizing on it’s exploitation.

I think I am ready to just accept the life that’s unfolded. Having a vision is a great tool for aspiration as long as it’s not wielded as a weapon to compartmentalize your joy and healing.

I’m getting better at forgiving myself for falling short of the unrealistic expectations that don’t align with my genuine capacity.

Can I do more? Yes.

Do I want to do more? I don’t know…and having that uncertainty is just as valuable as the “yes” that somehow always seems to be under duress.

So this birthday season, I’m surrendering to the experiences I’ve created and letting go of the milestones I expected to accomplish.

It’s ok to quit trying when the cost of the continuous pursuit is your well-being.

I was lying in a messy bed with my oracle decks, doing a long overdue reading on the hot mess of a life I find myself in.

Between being told to be grateful and recognizing the ways I’ve allowed myself to be exploited - I realized that this musing journey wasn’t about the stuck emotions.

It is about the constant renaissance of who I need to be on any given day, making the best with what I have at that moment.

I recently started a 1st House Pluto transit and am surrendering to how I need to revolutionize myself. So much of my complaining and disenchantment has been about a life I choose to lead despite feeling miserable about it.

This is my pattern because feeling invisible in an aquarium of dirty water is how I justify my victimhood. I’m starting to understand that the “random” Medusa tattoo I was called to get wasn’t a birthday whim. It was a symbol of who I need to channel if I am going to continue existing in a world that doesn’t feel mine.

I went back and forth for years about my brand, business, and what imprint I want to leave with my legacy. My reinvention journey felt like those roundabout circles where cars yield and try not to miss their exit as they go around. It feels like I missed my window because instead of being definitive in where I wanted to go, I would perseverate over the options to the point where I chose none.

But I am starting to see things with lucidity. I’m seeing myself, the people around me, and the choices I made that felt relevant at the time. I don’t know if I am entering my villain era or menace season.

I want to exert my frustrations and call it passion. I want to put hands on someone (specific individuals) and call it karma.

There’s so many things I want to do for the sake of growth and call it adulting but my conscience won’t allow me to be impulsive or flagrant with my process. I’m in the “can’t quite leave so quickly” portion of my exit strategy and channeling my rage without an outlet is a mental clusterfuck.

When people are more invested in you sacrificing your well-being as long as they benefit from your lack of boundaries, it’s tough to unsee that as betrayal. It’s difficult to resume business as usual when your kindness gets played and when you’re no longer worthy of a friendship because there’s nothing left for you to give others.

I chose to change this newsletter and call it the “Nuance of Reinvention” because change often comes with a grieving process. We celebrate the butterfly without mourning the caterpillar. We prioritize the few days the butterfly lives to soar as if the life of the caterpillar never mattered. The reinvention journey can be as simple and as complex as we want it to be.

As I navigate this next chapter in my career, I want to honor the who I’ve had to become in order to appreciate who I am evolving into. Two conflicting things can be true at the same time. I can feel sad about quitting and feel energized about a new opportunity.

The Nuance of Reinvention is recognizing how much you accommodate for others and also forgive yourself for thinking output was your only source of value.

Many lessons take a lifetime to learn and when you do, there’s both joy and sorrow to experience, often at the same time. I can only imagine how epic that first flight must be for the butterfly. Considering how it dies quickly afterward, I respect their desire to go in with ALL or NOTHING.

cw. I’m not a fan of labeling my writing but I understand why someone would want to be forewarned. I wish life could forewarn me before participating in activities that will fuck me up but whatever…it is what it is. so *content warning* - this post contains references to suicidal ideations.

At some point I’m going to write about trigger warnings for content. When someone passes away, we send “thoughts and prayers” and yet when someone thinks about unaliving themselves, we send them to a psychiatric emergency room, as if that experience were less traumatic than experiencing life with thoughts of not wanting to participate anyone.

This is not how I expected to write this musing but my streams of consciousness, while sitting in the car parked in Brooklyn, waiting for someone to come back from their appointment, got me reflecting on how I want to exercise my right speak unapologetically about my relationship with suicidal ideations.

I would love to say I “struggled” with it, as if the battles were in the past - forever etched as memories I can compartmentalize and revisit as needed. I can’t say I’m currently having them because I don’t trust anyone to flag me and send me into a spiral of having to justify my emotions.

Even in my worst, I never shared my feelings because I didn’t want to be saved. I see how the world moves when it comes to punishing those who choose to opt-out of this experiment called life and I’m not headstrong to let someone convince me that I’m wrong.

Wrong is subjective and I’m too far gone in life to trash the growth I’ve made, even on the days when it feels pointless. I’m an emotional sadist in that way.

All of this started because my dog was put down over the weekend. I’m still processing the loss and don’t know how to make sense of my ambivalence.

Technically speaking, he wasn’t my dog. Just like the other yorkies that I was attached to who, that were mauled by the husky (who’s passing I did not feel remorse about). I heard their cries. I carried them in my arms, bleeding out while we drove to the emergency vet. To this day, I get chest pains when I’m in the basement of my mom’s house.

Mortality is a recurring theme in my head and it’s easily accompanied with thoughts of suicide. The same thought that persists is “why are you still here?” Most of the time, I answer that with action.

Am I taking care of myself?

This is the easiest answer to fuck up because I created a life where self-care is nearly impossible and yet I wonder how much of that is an unconscious desire to die. If I wanted to prolong my existence, why do I willingly participate in a life that stunts my growth - physically, emotionally, and mentally?

The symbolism of his death got me wondering about how much am I holding onto what is not mines.

How many friendships do I claim as important that don’t reciprocate?

How much of my identity is tethered to a career that doesn’t light me up?

I can do a lot of things and be a lot of things but how much of those can I claim as my own?

How many people do I entertain that are out of habit and convenience?

How much of my work is rooted in normalcy for fear of realizing that maybe I am not good enough at what I want to do so I stay thriving in a space that accommodates others. Because if they are happy then maybe that joy trickles down to me. The gag is that when I center myself, I see how lonely life is when the connections you have are not grounded in reciprocity.

It’s to acknowledge the nuance of something I’ve lived with for years, that pops up like a groundhog every once in a while. It took me decades to own this as part of my lived experiences. It doesn’t mean I am broken. It doesn’t mean I am flawed.

It simply means I am living, with thoughts that keep me on toes, and that creep up on me when I’m reminded of my mortality.

To be continued…

I missed the last season of YOUNGER. I’m catching up now. So much of my weekend has been about reflecting if I even want to keep the new job that I am moving into.

Quitting felt good. Choosing to leave a toxic dynamic felt invigorating. Knowing there may be professional casualties as the result of prioritizing my own well-being feels like shit.

I don’t just miss having my own schedule. I miss the professional environment. I miss wearing make up and coordinating outfits with heels. I miss working with people who also prioritize their appearances. I never want to judge casual wear because clothing don’t impact the value of the work we do. I do recognize though that how others show up can either inspire me to show up better or allow me to settle for less.

I don’t want to be YOUNGER. I want to enjoy the chapter that I am currently writing. I wonder how much of this career shift will enable me to fully participate in my life.

Watching this show unlocks a core memory where I was a thriving solopreneur, with an audience and clients that sought me out for my expertise.

One of the toughest pills to swallow is how I’ve become OK with dimming my light.

I tried to bring my confidence to a place where people settle for crumbs. I am trying to find a sweet spot where I don’t surrender my nuanced ambition for a life where I’m ok with settling.

Here’s to hoping that I made the right decision. Here’s to wishing that I don’t settle for less than what I know I’m capable of.

This is the first time that I want to experience all that comes with being OLDER.

Happy Valentine's Day to Me!

I'm excited to lose all of the weight I gain from stress eating.

Before you throw me virtual high-fives, let me preface this with saying that I am still "working" at my school.

It was a move I never expected to make and am grateful for doing.

I've been covering passion + values in my class. I don't shy away from sharing. I'm very upfront about how I value loyalty. From a macro-perspective, it's totally a trauma response.

For argument's sake, one can say I how I betrayed my own value by quitting a job - to which I reply "why do you assume my loyalty was to a toxic employer instead of myself?"

Learning to prioritize my own well-being has been a life long challenge. I lasted longer than I should have and yet I still feel bits of guilt for walking away.

I am not walking away from the students though. I am walking away from carrying the burden of responsibility, the consequences of having both a strong work ethic and desire for purpose.

People will revel in your misery when it benefits them.

I carried the weight of my program because I wanted to. I participated in self-exploitation for a number of reasons. I was willing to carry the weight of making decisions. I was willing to accommodate so many people before focusing on how that was negatively impacting me.

I was miserable and what bothers me, to this day, is how many people were content with my misery as long as I was making them look good.

I was drowning in overwhelm and no one, outside of personal friends and my therapist, checked in to see if I was OK.

It became harder to lie because students, who are well versed in hiding their emotions, could see through my fake smiles.

And I never wanted to get to a place where my depression would become a barrier to the work I am proud to do.

So I quit and chose to be the villain.

I quit with little remorse.

I quit unapologetically and yet I still remain diplomatic as fuck, sensitive to the working dynamic I still need to participate in as someone on the other side.

But this weekend, I will celebrate. I will honor how far I've come in advocating for my own sanity. Because sometimes advocating for one's self is not just verbally.

It's deciding to remove one's self from situations that no longer serve a purpose in your growth.

Cupid didn't strike me with an arrow. He gave me the crossbow to aim for a target that is more aligned with who I want to be.

This is for the peeps who think they’re too old for this bullshit.

It’s like you’re ready to shine but afraid of the light.

You want to be seen but feel guilty about taking up space.

You’re tired of struggling but find comfort in disappointment.

You crave excite and want growth to be perfect.

You have wounds to heal from but have branded the scars as your personality.

You want to say NO but are tethering your worth with the YES.

You want more opportunities but you step aside assuming it belongs to someone else.

You are exhausted but you also call deprivation your home.

You want to break the cycle but get discouraged at the first sight of friction.

Maybe it’s time, not to rewrite your story, but accept the version that you’re currently living.

Because maybe life isn’t about creating.

Maybe it’s simply about honoring what is there…without judgment or regret.

I’m making my way out and leaving a trail of cookie crumbs and melatonin in the wake of my swift departure.

Leaving a job is never easy unless the leaving becomes your saving grace and the only chance you have at recalibrating your central nervous system. In reflecting on where I went wrong, I realized that I was never positioned for success. The disconnect with my role, work ethic, and desire to be of service never aligned with a sustainable model of work. For a long time, I felt like I carried the weight of my program by myself because I lacked the proper boundaries to put barriers between my altruism and other people’s sense of entitlement.

I love working with my students. What I didn’t love was being made to feel like I was doing too much for them while my immediate circle of compliant low achievers were allowed to thrive at a sub-level standard of work.

When I received a promotion, there was an expectation that I would work closely with my direct supervisor to the point where I started to wonder why I was bearing the brunt of the work while not receiving the compensation or title?

I know that most of the working world is full of managers who create conditions for those below them to do most of the heavy lifting. However, just because it’s “how it’s always done” that doesn’t mean I need to make that my long-term reality.

My emotional and mental health have been trash for a while but because I learned to suck it up, I ignored my own internal cries for a break. In many ways, we’re conditioned to neglect our own needs for the sake of accommodating others. We prescribe value based on our own output and when that is compromised, we feel guilt for not living up to the unrealistic expectations we allowed others to impose on us.

I’m about to jump from one job to the next and yet I don’t feel like I’m sacrificing my wellness with the leap. I’m teaching students about passion and realized I needed a refresher myself.

When you are working from a place of passion…it shows.

Also, working with others who are passionate about their own impact helps to ease the burden of emotional overwhelm when things get to be too much.

I’ve felt like I was carrying the weight of 5 people only to realize that people don’t want to burden of accountability. Results are great but they come at a cost. I couldn’t figure out why I struggled so much with being the weight bearer for others until I recognized that I don’t prioritize harmony or acceptance.

Have I given everything I had to help empower the students I chose to work for?

Have I shown up with authenticity and audacity, modeling the same courage and bravery that comes with self-acceptance?

I move to the other side, knowing that I bring a strong sense of direction so that I can activate a different level of advocacy for a community that needs our loyalty.

It’s not a good-bye.

It’s recalibration of purpose.