Updated: Jan 17
Y'all... it's officially been 6 months since I cut the fuck up and left corporate america. 6 fucking months since my goofy ass said "this no longer serves me and y'all got me fucked up." I am tickled still thinking about how I legit tried to negotiate another 15K for my salary, and how incredulous they felt I was after I honored my resignation. What a fucking life lesson. To walk away from 70K because it was disrespectful to the value that I brought in that position. I left that position and learned very quickly how deeply attached I was to my career, my salary, and being externally valued. For the first two weeks of unemployment, I felt so lost and uneasy. I quit with just enough savings to float for two months lmao. In hindsight, I absolutely was out of line for not investing and saving more during my time there, but the way my mind is set up, money always shows up when necessary (however moving forward, I absolutely will prioritize saving).
ANYWAYS... In those first two weeks, I felt so anxious that my stomach hurt damn near everyday. When it really hit me that standing my ground doesn't always mean getting what I want or believe I deserve, I started feeling really conflicted, wondering if I had made the right decision or if I was having a manic episode and delusions of fucking grandeur. I'm so grateful for one of my friends, who consistently reminded me that my decision to leave was inundated with so many layers, but ultimately, it would all work out in unimaginable ways.
Week 3, it really set in that I had, in fact, turned the fuck up and that this new period of unfamiliarity could be full of opportunity if I allowed it to be. I started affirming the value of being able to afford to sit the fuck still. I started dancing around the house, enjoying my shows, sleeping in, and cooking! If y'all know me, you know that I stopped cooking years ago. That third week, I started to feel a little bit more confident in my decision to walk away from such a major part of my life. I also began to re-examine my thoughts and actions that led up to me leaving (thank goodness for journal entries). The following weeks, I was able to recognize the divinity in my decision. I choose divinity because I don't want to limit my understanding of something as good or bad. I want to be able to recognize the necessity or significance of whatever is presented so that I don't miss the gifts that are there because they look differently than what I've envisioned or perceived to be good/bad.
Month 2 was rich. I did tonsssssssssss of socializing. I'm talking shooting music videos, doing radio segments, going dancing, etc. It was beautiful to see how much could be accomplished because I was no longer waking up for work at 2 am, and getting home at 4 pm. Those 60+ hour work weeks over the course of 4 years had become extremely isolating. I never had time to go support other people because I literally had to be in bed by 7 or 8, and I always worked weekends, and holidays. Month 2 showed me that I deserved to get out and connect, to explore the world in non-transactional ways.
AND THEN THE PANIC SET IN. I had roughly $1400 left in the bank...and $2200 worth of bills coming up... Y'alllllllllllllll... I know I have several aspects to my business, but when I tell you that entrepreneurship money can be really challenging sometimes... The level of consistency and problem solving that it requires is absolutely humbling to say the least. Soooo, I'm talking with my friends about next steps, because shit was getting real, and because I'm the asshole who quit my job, I didn't feel like it was appropriate to ask people to rescue me from my own shit lol. One of my friends, however, did just that. She literally kept groceries in my fridge y'all... On top of that, she asked me if I would consider going back to school. Now rewind to May...I finally got my muhfucking bachelors degree 8 years after I was "supposed" to be done...That fucking battle definitely left a funky ass taste in my mouth, so when she asked if I wanted to enroll in a graduate program, I was hesitant as fuck.
But month 3, I started my Masters program in English...and was immediately reminded of so many internalized things. I got to revisit my "learning disability" and my defense mechanisms surrounding being differently abled. I got to remember what it felt like to be inspired and excited to learn and see how all of the different things I've loved are connected. I got to face potential future versions of myself through my classmates and professors...and boyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy did that get my ass the fuck together. I also got to revisit a major trauma (I say that enthusiastically now, but bitch I had to take my ass to therapy). I also started working as a supplemental instructor and tutor, which kind of pacified my panic. It came with a monthly stipend that was literally a quarter of my monthly salary, but it was "guaranteed" money, so I felt a little more secure lol. I reread Beloved, amongst several other works of literature...but Beloved opened me, and happened to coincide with some of my own inner workings. Month 3 was raw.
Month 4, I started to despise school...I began to recognize the microaggressions of academia that so deeply vex me. But I also began writing about my favorite novel "Women Who Run with the Wolves" by Dr. Clarissa Pinkola-Estes. That research paper was about the Wild Woman archetypal patterns in Beloved, and it literally put the last 10 years into context for me. It made everything make sense, but it also showed me what still hurt, and what required grieving. I also turned 30, and was so full of grief and apathy that I kept my birthday all for me so that I could cry and be sad without having to explain or apologize. Turning 30 taught me what bittersweet is.
Month 5 was a blur...heartbreaking at best, stressful at the least. I had no sex :(...No dates... but I had me. Although I did get my 4.0, I watched myself battle with knowing that grades don't actually matter and trying to be that honor roll student that I was raised to be. I worked on some affirmations to help me focus on learning for the sake of liberation, and constantly had to check myself when my kill-or-be-killed switch was activated lol. I did focus on therapy because life was asking me to figure out how to be constructively destructive and navigating abusive spaces/dynamics. I actually shared with my mother that I hadn't and wouldn't be coming home for the holidays because I don't like the passive-aggressive shit that goes down, and I don't go anywhere that requires me to exist in fragments. That was a tough but necessary conversation, but I'm glad I expressed myself. My 19 yr old self visited me with all of her grief and I had to sit with her and honor everything that she shared with me. Month 5 showed me how I internalized grief, and carried burdens that were not mine. My body responded with a hernia and hella disruptive IBS smh. I went back to acupuncture and watched my body purge so much grief that it was scary. Month 5 also presented the opportunity to "renegotiate soul contracts." I found myself in Hawaii with my ex-wife...fully reminded why she is, in fact, my ex-wife lol. Those two weeks taught me that people are who they are, and that no matter the connection, people being who they are is still divine. Despite the years that've passed, and the work that we've both done as individuals, fuckbois gon' do fuckboi shit. I say that playfully, but earnestly. I choose to honor fuckbois doing fuckboi shit as divine because ultimately, they remind me of why self-love, awareness, and honesty are so important. More importantly, they show me the parts of myself that I deny or desire to express because I'm avoiding rejection/seeking acceptance.
And here we are at the beginning of month 6. I'm in an interesting space, integrating recent revelations and grateful to be home. School/work resume on Monday and I feel ready to see how this semester will unfold. I'm also working on MN8Beauty. One of the most significant things I learned last semester was regarding the performative nature of g