Life Stories and Everyday Drama - page 11

it’s been three months since she told me it was over, and I honestly thought I would be better by now. you know, like the typical advice you see everywhere? “time heals all wounds” and “you’ll find someone better”? I guess I've just come to terms with the fact that those phrases are easier said than lived. every day feels like I’m dragging a heavy anchor, and my mind constantly races back to the moments we shared. I can still picture her laughter, her smile, and the way she used to play with her hair while deep in thought. I often wonder if that’s just how life goes, one minute you're on top of the world and the next you’re stuck reminiscing about how things used to be. I’ve tried to distract myself with friends or hobbies, but it’s like there’s this invisible wall that keeps me from truly engaging; some people say that it’s all about perspective while others might argue it's more about acceptance, but I’m stuck somewhere in the middle, caught in a labyrinth of my own emotions.

as I navigate through this post-breakup haze, I’ve read a lot about the psychological phenomena related to breakups—terms like the ‘attachment theory’ and ‘emotional dependency’ come to mind. they make sense in a clinical way, but experiencing them firsthand is a different beast altogether. I mean, how does someone just move on as if nothing happened? it’s as though they possess an emotional GPS that guides them toward greener pastures while I'm still in this perpetual state of searching for a signal. some days, my phone buzzes with messages from friends suggesting new activities or meetups, but I find myself declining more often than not—it's like I'm afraid that any bit of joy I could feel would pale in comparison to the happiness we once had, which is a weird kind of self-sabotage. I often find myself analyzing my past interactions, wondering if it was something I said or did that spiraled us into this situation—was I too clingy, too distant, or did I just not pick up on the subtle signs of her impending discontent?

I’m here questioning the timeline of recovery for breakups, and how long does it actually take to get over someone? I wish I had a definitive answer rather than these endless Google searches leading nowhere. some say it takes the same time as the relationship lasted, while others suggest that it’s all individual; but I have to admit, still feeling heartache after three months feels like I’m lagging behind in a race where everyone else has already crossed the finish line. there are moments I catch myself daydreaming about what could have been, or I find myself scrolling through old pictures of us smiling, but instead of fueling healing, they only deepen my sorrow. maybe I’m just a romantic at heart or maybe I’ve built an idealized version of what we had, but the reality is, I'm struggling. I’ve learned that time does play a critical role in healing, yet it’s also about self-acceptance and allowing yourself to feel all the emotions that come with loss. sometimes I find solace in journaling my thoughts, like I'm laying the baggage down little by little. any tips on how to let go would be appreciated; even a friendly reminder to keep pushing forward would go a long way. 🥺

I'm currently at work. I do research for a travel provider in my local area. Today I was interviewing passengers on the metro system but before I can start, I have to count all the passengers that come through my assigned door. I was mid-count when one of our ticket inspectors told me to move for a disabled passenger because I was standing in the wheelchair area absentmindedly. She pulled a face and gave me dirty looks for the remainder of her time on the metro and was doing the same when she got off. It wasn't a major issue and I moved immediately because I was in the way but her tone and glaring made me so angry. I wanted to scream at her and hit something. I just wanted to explode and it was completely out of proportion. Then on the same trip we had a fare dodger who refused to leave when he was caught. The team members let him stay on the metro despite travelling without a valid fare. I was mad at the staff for giving up so easily but I just wanted to attack the dodger. I'm a fair large person and all I could picture in my head was repeatedly kicking this man in the head. Again, irrational anger. The staff are not obligated to remove fare dodgers when they get aggressive, which he was. And wanting to beat a man to death for being a cheap, scumbag is excessive. But I keep having these thoughts of disproportionate rage whenever a situation arises. I regularly fantasize about murdering my neighbour after he threatened me a year ago. What the hell is wrong with me?

So here I am, 23 years old, sitting on my couch at 6 AM, scrolling through my phone like the rest of the world, and I can’t help but wonder if doing some morning yoga could actually help me chill out a bit, you know? Work has been an absolute circus lately—endless deadlines, demanding bosses, and that annoying coworker who “just loves to chat” while I’m trying to concentrate! Ugh! On top of that, my home life isn't exactly a zen garden either. It’s like a tornado of chores, family drama, and oh, let’s not forget the never-ending battle with my own mental health; I don’t need to tell you how exhausting that can be. Someone once said, “When you find peace within yourself, you become the kind of person who can live at peace with others.” Is that true? Because at this point, I’d just like to be at peace without screaming at the top of my lungs. I keep hearing about how morning yoga is supposed to be this miracle cure-all for stress, but honestly, I can’t get over my own skepticism. I mean, sure, there’s something appealing about stretching out my tight muscles, especially when I’ve been hunched over my laptop for way too long—but will it really help? Every time I think about it, I picture myself in a yoga class, all zen and serene, looking like a complete novice! Have you seen how those yoga influencers contort themselves? Like, what even is that? And let’s not forget the smell of essential oils—it’s either heavenly or a total headache! I can just imagine showing up with my “I do yoga” sweatpants and completely whiffing a pose. People in the room would probably roll their eyes at me. “Girl, just breathe,” they’d probably whisper while I’m over there struggling to keep my balance. Yet, I feel like I should give it a try. Couldn’t I use a bit of that whole “namaste” vibe in my chaotic life? But then I wonder: could I actually commit to doing it regularly? I’m already 10 minutes late to everything, and adding a morning yoga routine to my schedule seems like a tall order, doesn’t it? I could see it now: me, madly trying to fit in downward dog before I rush out the door, only to be late again because I lost track of time trying to “find my center.” Lo and behold, my chaotic mornings would just get more chaotic! Would it really set a positive tone for the rest of my day, or just make me more irritable when I can’t get everything done in time? So many questions! I could just start with simple stretches at home—maybe throw on a YouTube video and pretend I know what I'm doing, right? They say even a few minutes of mindfulness can lead to better stress management; just breathe and focus, they say. But I find it hard to relax when my mind races with a thousand thoughts about what I didn’t do and what I still need to do. Like, why is life such a juggling act? Is it too much to ask for a little bit of balance? Probably, because let’s face it: my life has been more of a tightrope walk than a yoga class! I can't even tell you how often I've tried to squeeze in self-care, and yet, here I am, still feeling wound up like a string on a bow. But, as I delve more into this whole yoga idea, there's this nagging voice in my head pushing me to try something new, you know? "Step out of your comfort zone," it whispers. Maybe I really could use some calm in my mornings, even if I end up looking ridiculous and flailing about as my cat watches on, probably judging me, has anyone ever felt that? For some weird reason, I feel like I owe it to myself to at least give morning yoga a shot; who knows, it might even make me a better person at work and home. Plus, wouldn't it be awesome to actually have a chill start to the day instead of bursting out the door like a caffeinated squirrel? I'm still on the fence about it—do I really want to give it a go, or just keep watching random memes on my phone until the last second? Maybe if I push myself to get up a lil' early? I mean, the thought of being able to say I do yoga does sound kind of badass. And hey, I’m all about trying to make my chaotic life feel a little less chaotic; is it crazy to think that morning yoga might just hold the answer I've been looking for? Anyone out there make it work in their routine? I need help deciding here; should I take the plunge and roll out a mat, or keep dreaming of that blissful morning peace while I slip back into the chaos that is my reality?

Myself and my husband have been waiting for a new build house and currently living with my father.

One of the items we discussed getting was a tumble dryer for the house. Given that the flat I have just sold had some damp issues (but not major ones) we bought a heater dryer and we also had a combo washer dryer. (The dryer we hardly used because it had no temperature control and liked to melt things)

So we have discussed getting a tinkle dryer so that we don’t have the same issues in a brand new home. Plus this is so much water that goes into building a new home we have been told to let it breathe for 2 years after building and purchase. Plus we l won’t have radiators downstairs as we will have under floor heating and an air source heat pump.

So no damp clothes lying around. My mother in law (MIL) is very anti tumble dryers because I quote they are a waste of money and I didn’t have one and don’t have one blanket, so you don’t need one. To be fair she had 4 kids is retired bookkeeper and myFIL had a tight grip on the finances.

My husband and I are going to get one and last time I saw her I told her that we weren’t asking her for the money towards it in lieu of presents for birthdays and Christmas. That I don’t need her approval to get one that we could afford one that over selves. Last time I saw her, when I told her this she got up in my face and was quite agressive. I told my husband who did say the reasons why we wanted one as well that next time she brings the house up that he needed to with her.

We are due to see them after a while (they have been away) at the weekend and I am feeling a bit apprehension about it.

All the while we are also a trying to start a family and it’s just a bit much. I think I might snap if she says anything and I don’t want to be mean. But it’s not her decision or her house or her life. We are trying for a family and haven’t told many people.

Okay, so like, why does everyone hate me? Seriously, I don’t get it! I mean, I try to just vibe and be chill, but whenever I walk into a room, everyone looks at me like I’ve got three heads or something. It’s NOT cool, honestly! The other day in class, I said something about how I thought the cafeteria pizza was, like, gourmet or whatever, and everyone burst out laughing. I totally didn’t mean to sound like an idiot—but hey, who doesn’t love cheesy carbs?! They went on about how I’m delusional or whatever and even my so-called friends were laughing too. Not a single person backed me up. Totally feels like being a ghost in my own life. I mean, I heard one popular girl whisper, “Ugh, she thinks she’s so funny,” right in front of me. Like, what’s up with that? Can’t we just have a little fun without being judged? This one time, I was just chillin’ on my phone, and this dude walked up to me and asked if I was looking for a friend; I didn’t know if that was a compliment or shade? It’s exhausting, man! I just don’t understand how these people can be so cruel over nothing! Why can’t we just be nice to each other? If you think I’m weird, just say it, don't make it a group thing; people suck!

But then, like, I was scrolling through TikTok, right? And I saw this girl talking about how people hated her too, and she said, “Their opinions don’t matter, just live your best life!” Suddenly, I felt inspired. Like, maybe it’s not me, maybe it’s them! I mean, who died and made them the rulers of the universe? I’m just here trying to get through high school with a decent GPA and maybe have a little fun. So what if I wear funky clothes and like quirky movies? We all have our own vibes, right? Besides, I CAN'T be the only one who feels this way; like, lets be real! I can tell the popular crowd is so fake anyway, just pretending to be perfect and sipping their iced coffees. I think it’s hilarious when they trip up and act like total dorks—maybe we all need a bit of awkwardness, huh? So maybe instead of focusing on the haters, I’ll just be true to myself and own it! Who cares if they think I'm lame? I’d rather be lame and happy than cool and miserable! And hey, if anyone else feels like I do, let’s band together and form our own crew of misfits! We’ll be the ones who actually have fun instead of worrying about stupid opinions; life’s too short to be worried about what others think, right?

I'm a minor who is a trans man. A few months ago I came out to my parents as trans but my dad has acted like nothing happened and my Mom tells me it's a phase and asks me why I would decide this horrid future for myself even though I didn't choose it. I wish I could say she wasn't supporting but she is, she is very open about trans rights but when it comes to me I feel like my identity is just a funny joke to her or me "rebelling". I hate myself. She hates me, not her. I took away her little girl and I wish I hadn't. What do I do?

Me and my now ex boyfriend are in a weird situationship thing. He’s treated me better than how we were in our relationship. But he’s been talking to me about doing OF and I’ve been feeling so jealous. Before you say anything, I’m fully aware that I can’t control him and he’s his own person. But it’s hard when you have such strong feelings for someone and they do certain things that just strike you the wrong way. It hurts but I don’t necessarily have any right to say anything to him about and I can’t make him not do it. It really sucks.

I'm just at the absolute end of myself. Now I believe and follow God, but "giving it to God" feels a lot like sitting here doing nothing. I'm a single mother (1 kid) in my late 20's, working a burned out 9-5, desperate for supporting my roles as a mother, friend, and individual. My job is a blessing in the sense that I can bring my kid to work, attend field trips, all the sorts, but it's always at the expense of my paycheck. And that paycheck is very important because even though I only make ~$20,000/year, I've accomplished homeownership (first generation homeowner), a Christian school for my kid, a paid off hunk of junk car, and only about $3,000 worth of debt (not including the mortgage obviously). Of course I'm on subsidy, but we don't abuse the system nor do we live luxuriously. I made a $175/month grocery allowance work but it's now been cut back to $23/month. I feel successful despite my circumstances, but man.. I'm tired of just "beating the odds", "overcoming the statistics". I want not more, but better. I want to start cleaning houses, but start up for materials is out of reach and I've had 6 surgeries since 2019, my body is wrecked. I'd push through it though if it meant I could afford my bills and still meet friends at the park at 2pm on a Tuesday. I'm very handy, but I'm more Jack of all trades, master of none. I built my own shoe racks and fix my own car, but I can't diagnose or blueprint. I don't have my own tools. I'm washing my hair with dish soap to make sure my kid has their ends met. I have no family where I live, and while I do have friends, why should I expect them to hear the burden of my predicament? For me, venting=asking them to fix the problem. And the problem feels unfixable. And that leaves me clinging to the fact that God is bigger than these problems. He's bigger, but I still feel like I'm being suffocated. I don't want a bigger house or a newer car. I buy almost everything from second hand stores. I just want to be a mother and a friend, and have a job that will leave me confident in my ability to pay bills.

I find myself in a unique position that I can't quite put my finger on. At 23, I feel like I should have a better grasp on what my relationships are supposed to look like, yet here I am, questioning whether I’m in a queerplatonic relationship or something that defies categorization altogether. It’s complicated when the emotional bonds of friendship start feeling very much like partnership, yet the labels we’ve been given don’t seem to fit. You know that feeling when you have a deep connection with someone, where the lines between friendship and romance are so blurred that you’re left wondering if you should just throw caution to the wind and embrace whatever this is or if you need to examine it more critically?

I mean, we spend nearly all of our time together—cooking dinners, binge-watching shows, even having those deep midnight conversations that last for hours. There's a comfort level that’s reminiscent of a long-term romantic relationship, but we never actually call ourselves a couple. We’ve both made it clear that we don’t want to label our relationship in typical terms, but the nature of our bond seems to challenge the boundary between friendship and a queerplatonic relationship. At times, it feels like we’re almost like partners in crime; the way we support each other emotionally feels heavy with significance. But when I look for definitions to cling to, I often question if what we have is actually queerplatonic. Does it have to fit into a convenient box, or can it simply exist outside of labels?

When we’re navigating the world together, I notice how we interact with other people. Friends often ask if we’re a couple because we do share physical affection, like holding hands or hugging, which typically imply romance. They exchange glances that seem to suggest I should either embrace this label or clarify my feelings. In these moments, I can’t help but feel a bit anxious. Are we doing something wrong by not defining ourselves as a couple? Or is there a possibility that this unusual connection is valid just on its own, and it doesn’t need to conform to societal expectations? There's so much unexpected joy in our relationship that questions whether I should just lean into the ambiguity; I often vacillate between wanting to clarify and remaining in this emotionally rich, undefined space.

Navigating these waters becomes even murkier when it comes to communicating about our feelings. We touch upon it sometimes, but genuine discussions about what we’re feeling and whether we want to label our relationship always seem to get sidestepped. I’m left wondering if it’s fear that holds us back, perhaps a fear of disrupting the beautiful rhythm we have established. Or maybe it's the excitement of being in something unique that keeps us from placing a set name on it, feeling that labeling it could somehow dilute what’s special. So, I ask you: when it comes to relationships that are this complicated—where do you draw the line? Are we too hesitant to discuss the nature of our bond, or is there wisdom in letting it float in this undefined space where love, affection, and friendship coexist harmoniously? I’m truly curious to hear what others think about my situation;

I’m 14 and I didn’t really have a good past because of my mother, and the past couple months now I have noticed a lot of changes about myself mentally. If I’m out of the house for too long like at stores or restaurants, I’ll just panic and I don’t understand why, It becomes hard to talk and usually I’ll just say “home”. Last year me and my family went to a huge festival, I panicked and we had to sit down for a while, I would stop panicking but it would start up again randomly and I just couldn’t control it. My grandma and grandpa took me to the car and I calmed down while my dad and my sister were still out for about 15 minutes before we left. They kept bringing it up and said it was an “inconvenience”. Often times if I feel a texture I don’t like, it feels weird like I have to shake it off my hands or I just sit there with my hands out and go like “ah” or “eugh”, my grandma as recognized it and will give me a napkin for my hands or just move us away from where the material was. Sometimes I get in this headspace where I feel like mentally around the ages of 6-10. I never really got to have a childhood, my dad said it was good before him and my mom got divorced but I don’t remember it and I only remember the bad stuff. I want to know what’s wrong with me but when I asked my therapist she said it was just a phase but I cried to her about it months ago (she is no longer my therapist for other reasons). I feel like I’m this way because I was forced to grow up too fast, I mean I was taking care of a baby (my little sister) when I was 5. My mom was selling my toys and Christmas presents for drugs.

When I get really interested in something like a video game, I talk very passionately about it and sometimes I get a little loud when I talk but I don’t notice it. My dad always gets mad at me and I try to stay quieter. I almost always tell my grandma about all my interests and crafts because she is the only one who actually listens. Today I went to talk to her about the craft I wanted to do for my Halloween costume this year. I was in debate between doing a barn owl or a deer kinda cosplay. I was in the middle of saying how I thought the deer one would be harder and how I really wanted to do the owl, but she didn’t let me talk and just kept saying “the owl sounds too hard, you should do the deer”. I kept asking her to let me explain and she was like “well the owl just seems too hard for you”. At that point I just went back upstairs to my room and cried. My dad doesn’t let me tell him about my interests because I talk too much and he wants the short story,now he doesn’t want to hear it at all. My little sister is spoiled rotten by my dad and just doesn’t let me talk, then she gets mad at me when I get mad at her because she keeps interrupting me.

I just want to know what’s wrong with me

As I sit here reflecting on my life, I cannot help but confront the pervasive sensations of existential dread that have accompanied me throughout my existence. Being 31 years old, a male navigating the complexities of adulthood, has brought forth a cavalcade of thoughts that often orbit around philosophical quandaries and abstract concepts that seem to hold me in a vice-like grip, compelling me to analyze every facet of my reality, both past and present. In a world where the mundane often shrouds the profound, I find myself ensnared in an endless loop of ruminations, particularly those that provoke anxiety surrounding my own existence, the nature of reality, and the elusive meaning of life itself. For instance, I was recently walking in the park—a typical Saturday outing to decompress after a taxing week—when I stumbled upon a seemingly innocuous tree, its branches swaying gently in the breeze, yet my thoughts spiraled into an intricate analysis of its existence: Was this tree merely a transient anomaly in the grand scheme of the universe, serving no greater purpose than aesthetic pleasure for the passerby? Or did it embody an essential piece of a larger cosmic puzzle, contributing to the ecological systems that sustain life on Earth? These dilemmas circulate in my mind like a hamster on a wheel, never quite yielding the clarity I so desperately seek. Coupled with these musings are the persistent obsessions that arise from my experience with OCD, a condition that amplifies my tendencies toward overthinking everything that might seem trivial to another—like the cycle of life and death, the inevitability of decay, and, perhaps most dauntingly, the question of whether I am truly living authentically or merely going through the motions dictated by societal expectations. I often wonder whether others grapple with similar sentiments; might they find themselves staring into the abyss of their own thoughts, lost in contemplation about the purpose of their existence? During one particularly trying episode, I recall sitting at a café, attempting to savor my espresso while the cacophony of voices around me morphed into a philosophical dialogue of its own, leading me to ponder the vastness of the universe and my infinitesimal, seemingly inconsequential role within it. Is it possible that I am just another fleeting consciousness amidst an unforgiving cosmos, merely existing rather than truly living? Yet, while these thoughts may initially seem daunting, I have come to realize that acknowledging such existential questions can catalyze growth and introspection. I have learned that challenging oneself to navigate through these labyrinthine thoughts can lead to an enriched understanding of my own beliefs and values, often prompting me to realign my priorities and appreciate the sheer beauty of fleeting moments—like the laughter of a friend or a stunning sunrise illuminating the horizon. Amidst this internal chaos, I find solace in the notion that there is something inherently human about grappling with uncertainty and the quest for meaning; it binds us together as we navigate a shared experience defined by our complexities. As I confront my existential OCD, I recognize the potential beauty in vulnerability, for it carries the promise of connection and growth. Whether through conversations with friends or moments of solitude, I have discovered that vulnerability can engender resilience, allowing us to confront our deepest fears and emerge stronger, even amid uncertainty. Thus, I encourage you, dear reader, to embrace the electromagnetic spectrum of emotions and thoughts that accompany the human experience; perhaps you, too, can take a moment to reflect on what it means to exist in a world that often feels overwhelmingly vast. In doing so, we might find ourselves embarking on a journey toward understanding and acceptance, realizing that even in the face of existential quandaries, there is hope and beauty to be found. In a strange way, is it not this very struggle that lends color and meaning to our lives, offering us the opportunity to define our own significance in this unpredictable adventure we call life?

hey y'all! I'm signing off for the summer! (we have to turn in our computers) so I will see you guys later!!!!!!! cant wait to tell more crazy stories!

So, here I am, 21 years old and navigating the murky waters of relationships. My boyfriend recently proposed the idea of a DDLG relationship. Now, I’m not going to lie—I had no clue what that was. A quick Google search later, and I was hit with a wave of confusion and anxiety. DDLG stands for "Daddy Dom/Little Girl." The concept of engaging in a dynamic where one partner adopts a more parental or authoritative role while the other assumes a more youthful or submissive role just feels... strange to me. I mean, sure, it’s somewhat popular in certain circles, but that doesn’t mean it’s for everyone, right? 😟 It honestly threw me for a loop. All the discussions surrounding restraint, dominance, and playfulness sounded intriguing on the surface, but when I really started to think about the implications, I began to second-guess everything. I’ve always prided myself on being independent and assertive, which made the idea of being “little” feel unnerving. Am I supposed to act like a child or something? That just seems so far removed from who I am.

To make matters even more complicated, I began to wonder about the emotional dynamics at play. Trust is key in any relationship, but does venturing into this territory require a different level of trust? Can I really be vulnerable enough to rely on someone for that kind of care while simultaneously being afraid of crossing boundaries? I am all for intimacy and connection; however, I can't shake the feeling that something might get lost in translation. Plus, there’s a whole lot of stigma surrounding this kink—I mean, what would my friends think if they found out? Would they judge me? Would they perceive me as naïve or foolish? It’s enough to make anyone feel uneasy. And then there’s the concern about consent and negotiation. If I enter this world, how do I even navigate it respectfully? What if I find myself uncomfortable when things get too intense? It leaves me in this sea of doubt, feeling like I’m teetering on the edge of something that could either be freeing or entirely detrimental to my mental health;

so here I am, sitting alone in my messy apartment, scrolling through Instagram while sipping on my third cup of coffee, wondering why I can't cry over this whole love mess I’ve been dealing with. I mean, c’mon, does being heartbroken mean I have to walk around like a freaking robot? it’s not like I’m made of stone or anything but ever since my last breakup, it feels like my emotions are stuck on mute. you’d think that after being with someone for years, when things go south, you’d at least shed a few tears, right? but here I am, dry-eyed and feeling more like a confused Android struggling to compute the emotional data it doesn’t have. it’s weird! it’s like I’m going through the stages of grief but forgot to actually feel something in the first place.

like, I should be angry or sad or at least something! instead, I feel like I’m just sitting in a waiting room with a constant loop of “What went wrong?” on repeat. this guy I dated was hands down the love of my life—the romantic archetype every cheesy rom-com would be jealous of. we had all the classic signs: the long talks about whether pineapple belongs on pizza and the plans for retirement in a house with a blue mailbox. but then out of nowhere, it all flatlined. we broke up because he "needed personal space," which is obviously code for "I'm too scared to actually commit!" and I should’ve been devastated, right? but all I could do was watch Netflix and scroll through meme pages, thinking, well, this is just peachy! It’s like my brain is trying to tell me, “Hey, feelings are for suckers!”

I keep waiting for that moment where I just collapse into sobs, like they do in the movies, but it never comes. all my friends always tell me it’s totally healthy to let it out! “Just cry it out! It’s a form of catharsis!” but like, why should I? do you really think that sobbing into a pillow is going to change the fact that he still unfollowed me? or that he’s probably out there enjoying his "freedom" while I’m here battling existential dread? crying feels like such a cliché, and I don't want to go through all that drama while feeling like a fool. Plus, I don't even know if I’ll feel better afterward! I’ve seen too many people ball their eyes out over relationships that clearly weren’t worth it. "You deserve better" is what everyone says, which is easy for them to claim while sitting on their happy thrones of successful love life while I’m over here in chaos!

but maybe that’s the trick of it all: this numbness isn’t forever. I mean, I’ve read somewhere that emotional suppression and denial can keep you from actually confronting your feelings. just the other day, I stumbled upon this article that talked about how sometimes we grow through what we go through, and I realized: maybe I’m just fine-tuning my emotional intelligence here. I mean, who’s to say that not crying means I’m not hurting? it’s like I’m letting my inner self take a breather, processing things in my own way. perhaps one day it’ll all hit me like a tidal wave, and when it does, I’ll be ready to ride it. and who knows? maybe being a brick wall right now is just part of the healing process. sometimes, not crying is just another perspective, and maybe I’m building my emotional resilience, even if it feels a bit odd. am I alone in this? is this feeling of emotional suppression something more people experience?

Not especially a workplace drama here but a positive story at work!

Starting out in tech wasn't a walk in the park. Fresh from college at 25, I eagerly stepped into a corporate job, thrilled to be diving into the professional world. Quickly, I realized that being the sole woman—and a Black woman at that—in a sea of white male colleagues was not the most comforting experience. It was subtle things, really: conversations abruptly silencing as I walked by, lunch plans I somehow missed, and meetings where my voice felt like white noise. 🙄 Ever been there?

Initially, doubts clouded my optimism, and I frequently pondered if I was genuinely cut out for this industry. Imposter syndrome hit me hard, whispering, "Do I even belong here?" Each evening, I'd retreat home feeling disheartened and unsure, replaying awkward conversations and uncomfortably forced jokes. However, persistence became my best friend; after all, my parents always taught me to "keep my chin up and never let anyone dim my shine."

Gradually, things took a turn for the better. I found my voice in team meetings, confidently pitching my ideas, which surprisingly (to me, anyway) were not only heard but enthusiastically supported. The "bro culture" slowly melted away, replaced by genuine camaraderie and inclusivity. "We should've listened to you sooner," joked one colleague after my suggestion landed us a key project victory. Ironically satisfying, isn't it? 🤔

Nowadays, my workplace vibe has completely flipped the script. My colleagues aren't just co-workers; they're my friends. Lunchtimes are now filled with inside jokes, coffee breaks feel like mini-therapy sessions, and collaboration is effortless. Honestly, I never imagined I'd reach the point where I'd look forward to Monday mornings. Yes, you read that correctly—Monday mornings! The transformation still baffles me at times.

Reflecting on my journey, I'm grateful for the resilience I've cultivated and the bonds I've formed along the way. Sure, it wasn't easy at first—nothing worthwhile ever is—but these struggles taught me invaluable lessons about perseverance, confidence, and self-worth. To anyone currently feeling alienated or doubtful in their professional journey: hang in there. Change does come, even when it feels impossibly slow. And when it finally arrives, trust me, it feels amazing. 🌟