The Internet can be a cruel and unusual abyss of half-cocked opinions and bargain basement analysis, especially when it comes to Black wom...
I’m losing patience.
I’m excited about the possibilities.
I’m nervous about not knowing anything.
I’m not sleeping well.
I’m cool as a fan on surface.
I’m seething at time beneath.
I’m thankful for what I’ve learned.
I’m eager to put it to practice.
I’m wishing I had any idea who I’ll be practicing on/with.
I’m hungry for more.
I’m laughing. A lot.
Unfortunately, this is a breakdown of a day in my life at work. On repeat. When work comes home, and affects my sleep especially, I take it personal. This will be the 3rd year in a row that this has happened. This year is different. This year I am joined by…everyone… I work with. Strangely, the company doesn’t make me feel better. Because I’m used to this, all of those feelings just get all rolled up into a dream-full night—all related to work and the unanswered questions.
I can’t wait for summer. I can feel the ease of it waiting for me on the other side of nonsense. I’m excited about the opportunity to learn something, and to work on some of the projects that have been fighting for mental space for the past few weeks. Relief, right now, feels like a porch swing (which I don’t have), a tumbler of lemonade, a bowl of fruit salad, and birds chirping. Relief feels like time and energy to spread my wings on the dance floor and rise above the madness. Relief feels like peace of mind as I get ready to take a piece of what’s mine.
I can’t wait.
Watch me move.