Redefining My Life in My Mid-Thirties
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The last 11 months haven’t gone the way I wanted or imagined for several reasons. From multiple pregnancy and job losses to a breakdown in the beliefs I once held, I’ve been having a rough time navigating this part of my life. Aside from the traumatic experiences that have upended what felt familiar, I’ve also been reevaluating the way I think about myself.
For the longest, I’ve tried to emulate characters in the bible that are revered amongst Christians. If it wasn’t that then I found myself trying to wear the characteristics of women in my family; strong and graceful under pressure. But, I always felt I came up short. Like I could never part ways with the sensitive [read: emotional] soul I came to earth with.
It’s one of the struggles that informed my decision to impulsively move out to prove that I could be strong enough to live independently from my mom and stepdad. But prior to that, it’s the reason I preferred to scrap together enough change to eat chips and candy for dinner as a freshman in college instead of asking for financial help. In other words, I wanted to run from the “spoiled” and “sensitive” labels that had been attached to me. But, a part of me still sought the approval of those in my family.
I wanted them to see I was independent and didn’t need to rely on anyone, especially a man, to make it through life. The thing is, no one’s a one-person island, but I didn’t see it at that way during the years I tried to run away from who I am; a sensitive woman.
Reframing My Breakdown as a Breakthrough
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Something shifted last night when I became triggered by a social media post and felt myself confused by my opposing feelings. I felt genuine joy for a new phase in someone’s life, but it also reminded me of what I’d lost. Because I couldn’t work through them at the time, I reached out to someone close to me to express my heartbreak. I could feel my emotions culminating to a breakdown point, but I didn’t have the energy to mask them anymore.
However, the conversation went the usual route of telling me the same generic things people always say when someone’s experienced a ton of loss. I don’t think people mean any harm when they resort to familiar societal phrases, but I don’t think they consider how that could make someone feel. Again, not intentional…just tone deaf laced with uncertainty if they’ve never quite experienced something similar before.
As I sit here typing this, I realize that breaking down isn’t the worst thing I could do. It reminds me that:
I am sensitive and feel everything deeply; and
I’d rather confront how I feel instead of pretending like I have the answers to things I’ve never faced head on before.
By choosing to embrace both, I had a eureka moment. For the first time in my 34 years of living, I no longer have to mimic the lives of others nor do I have to perform for anyone.
I don’t have to pretend like having 3 miscarriages and witnessing my household’s 3 job losses is “normal.” I don’t even have to pretend that I’m a “strong Black woman” who never lets anyone see her sweat because I’ve never been her.
The truth is that these losses have rattled me to my core and I’m finally brave enough to stand in that. I’m not ashamed that I have to figure out how to move forward in a way that isn’t laced with generic “Everything will be okay eventually.”
I know it will be, but it’s not right now and that’s okay.
The First Step to Rebuilding My Life is Here
In therapy, the first step to recovery is admitting and it’s something that’s followed me for the past decade or so. Each time I’ve experienced something traumatic, I’ve had to do the work of fully acknowledging how the thing makes me feel. Then, I learn how to work through it instead of masking like so many of us tend to do. Another way I like to frame that is, “I’m definitely the person that’s going to cry about it, but then I’m ready to go when I’m done.” In other words, I’m a better me when I give myself permission to admit I’m having a hard time.
In addition to that, I’m taking the first step towards rebuilding my life. I thought it was embarrassing to go from being able to conceive naturally to having miscarriages or having my “dream job” to clocking in hours as an administrative assistant. But, it’s not.
I’m also being more mindful of what I choose to share with those closest to me. Sometimes we want our immediate family or friends to understand our trauma, but it’s hard if they’ve never been through what we have.
It doesn’t mean they’re a bad person, but they may not be the right person to help us navigate pain, confusion or anger. That’s where a mental health expert comes into play and it’s something I 100% stand by.
The Refinement Period aka Letting Go of What No Longer Serves Me
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I thought changing my number was one of the first few ways of setting boundaries, but there are even more subtle ways I can do this. From taking a much needed social media break to being intentional about what conversations I have with others, I can reclaim a little more of my peace. I can also decide what will be best for my fertility and career journeys moving forward.
This could be letting go of what I’ve always wanted in favor of what life has to offer or simply saying, “I’m not focusing on that right now.” I haven’t fully decided what my choice will be, but I know that I’m no longer leaving that in anyone else’s hands. It’ll boil down to what does or doesn’t align with the life I am focusing on living. I can only hope that I learn to make peace with whatever comes.
