Sometimes You Need a Refresh!
At the end of last year, I began recovering from two years in yet another weird, racist and toxic work environment that left me exhausted and listless. I felt like I barely came out alive.
I was ecstatic to be out of my former job and not dealing with my psychologically broken fucko boss anymore, but the emotional and physical aftermath; severe exhaustion and breaking out with eczema all over my body was rough.
I was tired – from the inside out.
I. Did. Not. Want. To. Do. A. Damn. Thing. I didn’t have the capacity to deal with much – only the things I had to do.
Watching “Buffy” and other comfort shows and eating pre-made meals or complete nonsense was about all I could handle. I didn’t know what was going on with me because I was HAPPY to be done with that job. It didn’t feel like depression but more so a feeling of just being worn out. But depression can show up differently at different times and not be the experience we’re familiar with.
Finally, I realized that I was experiencing severe burnout and had been for quite some time. I’d actually taken FMLA to try and address it.
Most of my full-time jobs have been toxic – racist, sexist or in some way have damaged my mental health. And I’d had it. I’d reached my capacity to deal with horrid treatment.
I was tired of the microaggressions and being singled out for fabricated offenses. I was tired of people being afraid of the fact I didn’t fit into their narrow idea of what a Black person should be. I defied that, and many only knew how to interact with a stereotype.
I’m not the pleasing negro. I know my worth, my talents and abilities. I’m not going to dumb myself down to make those who don’t even see my humanity, feel comfortable.
The flashbacks of the constant nitpicking of my work, the hostile conversations, accusations and assumptions, the horrible things that were done to me sat with me and sat on me. I felt buried under a system that didn’t care that I was being abused.
As a Black woman working in higher education, I know they damn sure didn’t care. That was echoed in the tragic demise of Antoinette Candia-Bailey who died by suicide earlier this year. She also felt bullied and harassed in her role as vice president of student affairs at Lincoln University, an HBCU (with a white president) in Missouri. She cried out and no one cared.
For months I just worked my part-time job and languished in my apartment, occasionally going to the library or running errands. I was isolated. I wasn’t getting out enough or moving enough or engaging with other people enough. Though I consider my apartment to be my haven, the walls were closing in.
Starting the newsletter you’re reading now is one of the things that gave me a bit of life – something to be excited about and proud of.
Then finally, I decided I needed to get away. I’d had the same routine, seen the same sites and been to the same places for far too long.
I went to New York. I lived there what seems like a lifetime ago. I’m not exactly sure why I picked NY, because it’s not a location for a calm getaway, but I wanted to see the MJ musical and connect with social media friends in real life. And, I have a friend who is a new dad and I wanted to see his little girl. (She is the cutest, smoosh-iest, ball of love.)
So, I decided to go for it and started booking my trip. Did I have the money to go? Kind of but not really. But I decided that life has to be more than working and paying bills. I needed different surroundings – a mental and physical refresh. I was off to the Big Apple and all the gritty grime it had to offer.
I had a ball!
I connected with so many people I befriended on social media but had never met in real life. They all made me feel welcomed and valued. My sprit needed that.
I went to see the MJ musical and it was fantastic! Roaming through the streets of three boroughs and even re-visiting my old haunts, including my old apartment was like walking through an old photo album. I reviewed my history and reminisced, realizing how much I survived and how much I’d grown and accomplished since then. I also realized that I would never move back – ever. I’d done my time in the iron jungle and am not about that life anymore. I’ve gone soft.
When I got back, I had renewed energy – physically and mentally. Even though there were times when my feet were killing me, all the walking was great for my mood and physicality. I also had more clarity about things I want to do and achieve.
The trip served as a refresh that revived me. Being active and communing with good people charged my spirit and provided a much needed reset.
The moral of the story is that every now and then we need to treat ourselves to a getaway, an experience, a refresh. Our bodies and minds need stimulation, excitement, new scenery and environments that shake us out of our routine and help us either confirm or reshape our perspective.
So though we may not be able to outrun or escape the trials of life, we can press “pause” and give ourselves permission to take an adventure, big or small, even if it’s a splurge. We get one life, or at least one at a time, and we deserve to do something for ourselves that refreshes our spirit.
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