spread your wings.

At the end of 2016, I made an abrupt yet deliberate decision to deactivate my facebook account. I had decided that I’d had enough of the way things were. I hated my job and, though I was genuinely happy for my friends, I was becoming more and more miserable seeing everyone’s seemingly perfect lives in comparison to my frustratingly stagnant situation. I was making a really good amount of money, but money has never been the key to happiness for me and last year REALLY proved that to me. I just needed some space to figure a bunch of things out. Unpack and unwind. A break from everything.

I’ll do another post walking through some thoughts/updates about mental, emotional, and spiritual health. But for now, this:

I made a pact with myself.

I deactivated my account and said I would reactivate it once I started getting my life together. I wanted to start making the positive changes that I needed to see in my life. I wanted to do things my way. I wanted to go back to being a flight attendant. I said to myself, “I’ll give myself until June to earn my wings back with a new airline and start doing what I love again. THEN I’ll turn FB back on. June or bust”. That was one of the many “new year, new me” goals I set for myself. I literally never set those kinds of goals.

So, I started the application process with like a dozen different airlines. Determined. And received *TBNT emails left and right. I allowed myself to be down for maybe a day whenever I got a rejection letter, and then I would pick myself up and move on to the next. Scheduling my work days around random possible *f2f interviews and open house group interviews. Constant TBNTs. Constant dejection and starting over again and again and again. Wondering what I was doing wrong. Making changes here and there based on suggestions that friends and family gave me, mostly flight attendant friends.

I finally went into an interview with unapologetic confidence. I was sick of opening TBNT emails. I didn’t retwist my locs. I didn’t try to hide them, I smoothed down my edges and pulled my locs up into a neat, coiled updo. I didn’t wear contacts, I wore my favorite, nerdy, black glasses. I didn’t wear nude lip balm, I let my lips be on full display with a jaw-dropping, bright, American red lipstick. I wasn’t fake. I genuinely laughed and made new friends. I asked real questions. I used colloquial slang and terms of endearment that identified me as the bold, southern woman I am (y’all, hon, sweetie, *yass, etc lol). I was myself.

One morning before work, I received a phone call from the recruiter. No TBNT this time. She was giving me a *CJO. I got the job. They flewΒ me out for training in May. I graduated just before June.

Goals met. Just barely. But still.

Until next time!
xoxo

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Zombie.Β 

Wake up alone. Spend the majority of my time at a job I hate, being stressed out, and ruining my body. I’m starting to feel like I’m 79 instead of 29. Have to constantly hide how I feel, watch my back, and be on the defensive. Thankful for a paycheck and grateful for an opportunity to grow. I crave laughter and hugs. I’m addicted, which means I can’t get enough. I have prayer and family. I can’t even clear my mind with a good workout because my knee is wrecked, my back is tweaked, and now something’s wrong with my hip. I can’t be the athlete that I truly am. I feel like a loser. I cry to God at night, desperately hoping that he’s listening. Then, I dry my tears and tell myself to grow up and be strong because life is what it is and it’s not always fair. I roll over and feel the empty space next to me. Go to sleep alone. Wake up alone. 

Title.

Well, it’s safe to say it’s been a while.

Let’s try this again. This time, let my focus be on fitness. I’ll weave the personal stuff in as I go. Yes?

just trying to breathe.

How many times do you have to tell yourself that it’s not the end of the world before you finally start to believe it? When does hurting stop feeling selfish? How can you be mad at someone and want to curl into them all at the same time? Why do I feel childish and immature for just trying to deal?

You make…promises to someone…and you try everything…you give so much to try and uphold your promises…

I don’t have enough wine or chocolate for this.

is it ever enough?

I’ve been absent. I know. Kill me.

I’m sitting here, on my bed, choking through a vast puddle of tears, trying to figure out what the fuck I did wrong.

I gave space. I supported. I scaled back my feelings at times so as not to overwhelm. I was faithful. I loved. I desired. I went after what I wanted. I put myself out there.

Why? Why did I even open myself up to this bullshit. Life was easier when I was a ho. So…much…easier.