2020 was five whole years ago yet somehow I feel like I’m just waking up out of a long, dreamless slumber. I remember the before time as a chaotic, nonstop merry-go-round buzzing with anxiety, dopamine hits, constant striving, the weight of unmet expectations, and a sense of self-worth that hinged on whether or not I got rewarded for my productivity — surface-level was fine: financial bonuses, promotions, or even just a metaphorical pat on the back. Anything to make me feel witnessed.

I found myself dreading getting out of bed in the morning, checking Slack before even going to the bathroom. I stepped “willingly” into the role of over-delivering, accepting nothing less than my own too-high perception of good enough, which had been carefully cultivated over years of people-pleasing, drinking the capitalist Kool-Aid, and some old-fashioned childhood trauma.

A proud self-described feminist since high school, I’ve always tried to be a fighter. I thought by being loud and abrasive, by talking back to the bullies and acting like it didn’t affect me, that it was enough. I was caught in a self-righteous spiral of martyrdom for the greater good. I thought I could change culture from the inside — or at least play my part with a little block and tackle to help others make it through.

But it was killing me.

My therapist used to say I had to let it break. Let it go. Let it fall. You can’t catch it all. She meant the work, the company, the deadline, the colleague. Not me. Or maybe she did mean all of it. In hindsight, I’m grateful. In the moment, it was a sea of pain and rage and self-loathing.

When time stopped, I had the privilege to go underground. For what felt like the first time, I slowed down and caught up to myself. I got to think more about the what and the why of who I want to be. It was a murky gray area in between time and space where I grasped at anything I perceived as a life raft. Anything to quell the fire in my belly and the ache in my heart. I couldn’t yet see that I was the one behind the wheel, still driving myself into the brick wall I was just trying to get a closer look at.

I’ve learned the most about survival and transformation from Black feminists and trans and nonbinary folx, including adrienne maree brown, Autumn Brown, Prentis Hemphill, Alexis Pauline Gumbs, Dylan Mulvaney, Raquel Willis, Audre Lorde, Toni Morrison, and many others — and have so much respect and gratitude for their grace and openness. Thank you for sharing your stories and for continuing to uplift community and center love.

As a white, cis-woman, there are many spaces and opportunities I’ve had access to instead of others, and so many things I’ve been made to believe about what I — and in my mind, we all — should expect in life. It has required a lot of work to unlearn and dismantle my own biases and build new stories inside myself…work that I will always be doing as I remind myself to stay open and humble along the way. Feminism isn’t feminism unless it’s intersectional feminism, as Kimberlé Crenshaw termed in 1989. “Nobody’s free until everybody’s free.” –Fannie Lou Hammer.

I’ve spent a lot of time pouring my best energy into other people’s dreams, supporting their goals and passions instead of figuring out my own. I’ve handed over my power too easily, assuming — hoping, wishing they could see how much I cared, how much I was trying and then in turn, they would help me, too.

It took a long time to realize I needed to fight for myself first. I had to uplift (and find) my own self-love. How could I expect anyone else to be the support I needed when I wasn’t even sure what I wanted. I was too scared to step out on what felt like a ledge of my own. Today, I know two things: I love myself. And I’m a writer.

Did you hear me?! I’M A WRITER!! I’m an artist!

When I was married in my 20s, living someone else’s suburban dream, I used to tell people that I wanted to write a novel someday. It was a talking point that I’m not sure I took seriously. Fast forward to now and I have the first draft of a novel printed out and sitting on my bookshelf (with lots of editing to do and plenty to practice and learn about my craft, but it exists!).

I write short stories. I like playing around with magical realism. I’m working to get published. But I’m not rushing it. I always thought I wanted to be a writer as a way to connect with others. But the more I write, the more I realize it’s about creating a deeper connection with myself and exploring the human experience from the body I’m living in. I can only hope that others will benefit, too.

So as I continue to wipe the sleep out of my eyes, it’s like I stumbled out of a time portal and I’m now in the “after.” The chaos is still swirling, yet this time I can feel my own feet and the roots growing deep into the soil below them, holding me steady. I feel a lot closer to a life that feels like home (with peace!) from my tiny apartment in Brooklyn, NY than I ever have before. My self-worth is no longer tied to my output or the perceptions and projections of others, though this is also a continual journey.

I’m still scared to speak my truth out here on this ledge, but I’m not alone, and I’m doing it anyway.

It’s from this grounded place that I now pour my energy back into other people’s dreams. It’s from a place of self-love, respect for the boundaries of myself and others, and a still-burning desire to fight the bullies, that I want to help business owners, entrepreneurs, and brands tell stories that connect them with the people they’re trying to reach.

If that’s you, reach out if you need help breathing life into your story, your brand values, your content, your team, or whatever it may be — which includes strategizing how to help your message flow through, over, and around the platforms, channels, restrictions, realities, and opportunities we have at our disposal.

Let’s get to work! Did I mention I’m a writer?!

Thank you for reading to the bottom. I’m glad you’re here.

I’ve sporadically used this blog space in the past to share vignettes — some fictional, most inspired by my daily doings, others from writing workshops I’ve taken. I plan to continue that with greater frequency and share essays like this one on occasion, too. I also send a quarterly email newsletter with brand strategy thoughts and insights. If you’re interested in one or both of those, I hope you’ll subscribe in the sidebar.

Let me know what you think in the comments.