This is a Safe Space, Right?

I’ve been going back and forth with myself about this post. It’s a real honest one. Some things have to be written out for me to conceptualize it. Give it sound. Find out what it looks like. Understand how it makes me feel. Writing has always been my way of getting through bouts of self-doubt, anger, crippling sadness, hopelessness. I’ve never really been good at expressing myself verbally because one, I ramble, two, I often offend people, and three, I’m too passive. I’m easily discouraged and engulfed in “nowhere is safe”. It’s rather pessimistic, but from one too many experiences, things that I’ve shared have been thrown back at me or belittled. Disregarded. Period.

As I approach 30 I have realized more and more the importance of being honest with not just others, but with myself. Setting clear and solid boundaries. Not giving space to negativity. Leaving spaces that aren’t suitable for me. I realized too that because I’m always seeking that “safe space”, I often find myself trying to fit in everywhere instead of creating my own. My own space. My own community. Hell. My own family. In the past month, I’ve realized how imperative it is to leave toxic people behind. Even the ones I’m related to. J*sus. To enjoy life and give time to what’s important. Never allow others to dictate my time, my mood, my life. I’ve learned that in some cases, speaking up is not worth it. Take another route. Especially when my “speaking up” will make things worse. Understand that some don’t care to listen and it’s not my job to make ’em. Remove myself from the equation, altogether.

First step to full transparency, I’m not okay. This year has been a stress nugget. Yes. I said a stress nugget. So? Finished graduate school with nothing left towards the end. I mean, nothing. Why am I still on the first paragraph of Chapter 4 for Anemone Bloomed? *rolls eyes immensely* Another big lesson stepping into 30, be proud of yourself. Celebrate yourself. Treat yourself. Take care of yourself. Stop waiting for a round of applause because sometimes, you just won’t get it. I feel like I’ve been waiting my entire life for certain people in my life to tell me they’re proud of me and knowing that it won’t happen is not surprising, but it’s sad. Another lesson; some spaces can’t be approached with expectations. I have to stop setting high expectations. Not that I shouldn’t have a standard, but sh*t just doesn’t go the way you want sometimes. There! I said it! Latrice! It’s not about you all the time. Woe is not you. Shut up. I say this to myself with the utmost respect. Ha.

The biggest thing that has been weighing on me though is my career or whatever you want to call it. I inconsolably hate my place of employment. I hate that I’ve been applying to all of these publishing jobs and there are nothing but crickets. I hate that I’m not being paid well (says the whole world, especially black women), and that no matter what I do, my savings is barely a save. It’s more of a “let me put this right here just in case my account goes negative *cough cough* a couple dollars. Then, it’s the curse of social media. Seeing all these writers and other creatives living their best lives. Writing and creating. And me sitting back, green as chlorophyll. I know. Envy’s not healthy, but I feel more so happy for them. You go, creatives! Change this world with your words, art, music, whatever. That’s why creative spaces are so important to me. That’s why it is one of my goals to create one for young black writers. Of course, they don’t need me, but it speaks to my wanting a writing community. Not just the trading of notebooks in elementary (y’all remember that?) or a couple likes on Instagram. I want to collaborate with other creative souls. I want to work somewhere where that is fostered. This sales sh*t is not for me. Damn customer service where people treat you like dirt but expect the highest level of service. Don’t get me started on management who couldn’t give a damn about your mental health or overall development. Try being at a company for almost five years in the same position because NO chances are being given. Try being passed up for people that just got there. Try volunteering and networking and supposedly being talked up in conversations and your applications still being declined. No way to build loyalty and employee retention, said company. The way I want to empty my 401K and run away is at an all-time high, my friends. It’s not smart financially, I know. I’m not that wild, but what if I was?

I envy the courage people have to just dip up out of there. But I have to be honest. I am a sucker for stability. I can’t freeball anything. I’m too afraid of spontaneity, which is funny because that’s the life I’m seeking. Freedom to do whatever. I need to know that the money is coming in. I need to know that my bills are going to be paid. I need my mind to be at peace with my finances. With my living situation. Wait. From what I’ve observed, the creative life is not always that certain. Sometimes, you make money. Sometimes, you don’t. Sometimes, you have to give up everything.

Not in this lifetime. Latrice is not built for that. (Referring to myself in third person is a coping mechanism *smirks*) I need to believe in myself the way I want others to. I have to be consistent and persistent with things like this blog. My novel. My job hunting (because SOMEBODY gon’ hire me, hmmph!). Live. Breathe. Smile. Cry when I need to. But most importantly, find that inner joy I’ve been looking for for the past three years, I would say. I have to accept that good things will come when I remain positive. Happy. Content. Grateful. Less forgiving of bullsh*t. (That’s a story for another time) But, I would say, more forgiving of myself because life’s mistakes are the biggest lessons.

Last note: I’m revamping Write in August. Honestly, I was a bit disappointed about it. There were no submissions. But, I take full responsibility for its lack of visibility. I’ve honestly been burying myself in books and social media (unhealthily) to escape all of the above *points up*. Please excuse me.

To my frequent reader(s), I appreciate you. Your girl was thrown off her game a bit, but I’ll be back soon. Already have a few works in mind. I’m excited. You should be too. *warm smile*

Til the Pillsbury Doughboy flies,

Ella.