[Image description: Outside of a car interior, there is a blue sign that says “Welcome to West Virginia: Wild and Wonderful” in white. The inside of the car is black. Outside, the sky is blue and there are trees. Other cars are on the road.]
I’m a very big fan of anniversaries. Even if they’re just a week after something happens. Keeping track of time grounds me. And being a writer, I keep track of where I was at certain points by reading my old writing. So earlier today, I read through a few old blog posts and realized, “July 31stwas the day I moved to Asheville.” I’ve been at this thing for a year.
July 30thlast year, our cars were packed up with all of my possessions. I had just had an anxiety-ridden summer (read: year, life?) up until that point, and for all intents and purposes I was driving into hell. That’s how bad I was feeling. I had this terrible, sinking feeling that there was no going back on this horrible decision and trust me, I thought of several exit plans earlier in the summer. But I had no choice except to step off of the diving board and fall 4,000 feet. At one point on our drive, I had such horrible stomach cramps from anxiety that we had to wait at a rest stop for an hour. I was scared I’d shit my pants. But I held it together long enough for us to get to Asheville.
Earlier today, I wrote that moving to Asheville was one of the hardest decisions I’ve made. It was. It was the hardest decision I’ve ever made. I had not been to Asheville, North Carolina until all of my stuff, my family and I got there on July 31st, 2017. And up until probably January 2018, I was constantly crying and having panic attacks from homesickness and slight regret. I moved away from my family, my friends, my cat, my hometown, my college town, and the person I was dating (which ended up being me dodging a bullet so at least that worked out but it didn’t actually so never mind). I felt like I was starting from ground zero with this new life. And keep in mind; I hadn’t lived on my own before. I hadn’t paid all my own living expenses and I chose to do that for the first time 700 miles away from home, so this shit really had to work. There was no net under my tightrope, or so it seemed.
We’ve established this many, many times over, but I don’t give myself enough credit. I found out I’m an enneagram type one and that was very apparent when I moved. I moved to AVL, started my first job and went through a HORRIBLE LOL breakup in the span of my first few weeks in the south. And yeah, that was awful, but I did it. I really did it! I survived to be on the other side. Asheville was in fact so okay that I’m choosing (I guess) to stay for a while.
There’s a lot I could say about this past year, but really, y’all have been following along the entire time. I’ve documented all of it. My first blog post was when I was getting ready to move—my second was after my first day at my fellowship. Well, today was my first day at my next job. It’s been humbling to document this past year. And after my last blog post, feeling kind of down on myself, reading my posts thus far reminded me how much I’ve done and how much I’ve grown in the past year.
And while I’m on the point of anniversaries, it’s been almost a year since the day I met my current partner. We met the day before my first day at UNCA. And the day before that, I got my ‘grace’ tattoo. Next week, he’s flying up to New York (!) to help me drive back to Asheville to move into my new house. I try to stay pretty mum about my relationship (I said several times on this website that I wanted to stay single and that was a big joke) but I often think of how this relationship is an indicator of time passing and growth. A year ago, we didn’t know each other (when we recorded for my website, we didn’t think we’d date….yes, that’s who that is) and next week, he’s flying up here to help me drive back “home.” Isn’t that wild?
[Image description: A person is sitting on a couch with their feet up. They are holding a tablet. They are wearing a tank top, bracelets and cuffed jeans.]
At this point, you’re accustomed to how my blog posts start. “If you follow me on Instagram…” Well, if you follow me on Instagram, you’ll know that the last few months were a whirlwind. I’ve been putting off writing about it because I’ve been waiting for the other shoe to drop for months, so that I’d have a cute success story to share with you. That didn’t happen. So I have to stop using that as an excuse to procrastinate. Here’s what the hell has been going on. Let it serve as a lesson that things don’t/won’t go as planned. Try to read this as fast as you can, so that it mimics how neurotic I’ve felt.
As you’re well aware, I’m from New York, went to college in Pennsylvania and moved to North Carolina for my first job. That first job was a fellowship that had a definite end date (June 30, 2018) attached to it. In the 2017 half of my fellowship, June 30thseemed far in the future. My hair would be longer by then. I’d be completely evolved and devoid of any insecurity. I’d have a building named after me at the university I worked at. Et cetera. But once 2018 began, June felt like it was tomorrow. Everyday, June was tomorrow. So I (being myself) panicked, and put a lot of work, tears, and graph paper into figuring out what I’d do next.
The plan was as follows. And although it fits into a few sentences, trust that it took literally months to come up with. I wanted to move to Atlanta in early July, right after my fellowship ended. I picked Atlanta after researching about a dozen southern cities (and Philadelphia). Interestingly, New York was not on that list. I chose Atlanta because of its diverse Black population and the prevalence of Black queer folks in the city. Plus, if I was staying in nonprofit work, there’s that too. I wanted to find a job doing program management, preferably for an organization or institution that focused on Black youth. I wanted a studio or one bedroom that I could have a cat in, so I needed a job that would pay me enough for that. I started my job search in late April, and by early June, I still didn’t have a job.
Now, I told myself that I would have a job in Atlanta by June 15th. And that did not happen. However, what did happen was that two people approached me about jobs in Asheville around the beginning of June. I wanted to stay in Asheville only slightly more than I wanted to move home (meaning I had no plans to do so). Around the same time, I told myself, “okay. I’m not finding a job. I can afford to stay in Asheville for the summer. It’ll be easier to move from AVL to ATL than to move all the way back to New York, just to come back to the south.” I’ll also add that over the course of my fellowship, I ended with about $4000-$5000 in savings (because ya boy is good with money). So my plan was to live off of some savings until I found a job, and still have money to move with.
Recall that two people approached me about jobs in Asheville. The first one made me think, “Is this some kind of sign that something wants me here?” And the second made me realize, “okay, nothing’s popping off in Atlanta. I should stay here. I’ve spent a year building relationships here.” So in the span of like, I don’t know, nine days, I went from wanting to move to Atlanta to having a job in Asheville. Oh. I got hired at the place I worked for the past year. And it comes with a house. So that’s what I’ll be doing for the indefinite future (along with a part-time job, hopefully). But, my campus job doesn’t start until early August, so I’m with my family until I move in in a few weeks, since uh, lol my living situation is attached to my job more than most people’s. Literally, what the fuck?
If you’ve been reading very fast, you can stop now. I’m levelheaded again. I know I’m telling this story pretty haphazardly, and that’s an intentional mis/use of form. I want to highlight how fast-paced, disappointing, invigorating, and everything in between my job search and one shoe falling was.
Again, let this be a lesson that life does not go as planned. It seems like everyone older than me realizes this. So, clearly my youth despite stubborn, self-labeled maturity is showing. But yeah—as someone who is *phenomenal* at planning, these last few months have been and continue to be an unpleasant wake up call to the fact that as many graph paper + Flare pen diagrams I make about my life, there are many other factors, many more factors, that I have zero control over.
Two months ago, I would have laughed, GAFFAWED at the idea of staying in Asheville. I would have welcomed an entire month off to visit with old friends and focus on writing. I wouldn’t believe some of the opportunities coming my way. And while this is all working out, I don’t feel that way. My plan didn’t work. I could blame this on being a high achieving child, on having hardworking West Indian genes, a series of unfortunate events that cause my sense of self to be tied to accomplishment not inherent self-worth. There’s a lot there. But what I will say is that for now, I’m simply sharing to give folks, especially folks who haven’t done a job search before, a glimpse into the feelings that come with transition. I’ve been dealing with a lot of emotions and I’m not yet on the other side enough to have reflections.
So…that’s what the hell has been going on. I’m hoping to produce more than three posts in a four-month span, but as always, follow me on Instagram @allisonalcena or email me at allison@allisonalcena.com. I’ll let you know if the other shoe drops.
[Image description: Allison is sitting in grass in front of rose bushes. They are wearing a cap and gown, stoles that say ‘Swat,’ and are holding a Swarthmore College pendant.]
Today is May 21st, meaning that I graduated from college exactly one year ago. And if you’ve been reading this blog at all since then, you’ll know this year has been tumultuous to say the least. To commemorate this special occasion, I thought I’d share five things I’ve learned in the past year of my life. If I had known these things a year ago, or when I was still in school, life would’ve gone much smoother, but as you’ll see below, sometimes you just need the experience.
You’ll see parts of yourself you never have before.
Having the structure of living at school, a nonstop flow of work, and living within a 2 mile radius of 90% of my friends meant that I rarely had a moment to myself, let alone time to think about my likes, dislikes, and wants. And to be honest, the time that I did have for those reflections, I deeply avoided those thoughts (probably because I’d realize how unhappy I was). So I was shocked when, the day after graduation, I suddenly had so much time on my hands to get familiar with myself.
Undergrad functions by making every assignment or meeting seem do or die, and I can attest to this from not only doing it myself, but also working full-time with college students after. With so much of your day blocked off for you, the freedom that comes from leaving that situation can be either invigorating or terrifying. For me, it’s definitely been both. Having that structure removed has given me a lot of space and time to just think. I’ve learned things I love about myself, and seen some of the more ugly parts of myself, and now I have the space to address those things.
Your relationships will change almost immediately.
This one is probably obvious, so I’ll keep it brief. When my students complained to me about their shitty friends, I’d tell them, “The second you cross that stage, your relationships become a choice.” You’re not forced to interact with people you hate anymore, or stay friends with people you don’t want to. Life is offering you a nice, clean break in this moment of transition. Use it if you need to.
If you’re like me and have moved far away from friends and family after school, being in a long distance relationship with everyone you know definitely has its challenges. All in all though, my life is a lot less stressful and dramatic than it was when I was in college and had a deeper sense of obligation to lackluster people. My relationships have actually improved greatly and thus my quality of life has, too. The people in your life will also see you differently since you’re transitioning from one point in life to the next. If you can, be open about this. Don’t push good people you love away just because your relationship to them is momentarily changing.
It’ll feel like nothing is happening fast enough.
A year out of school, I often look around and wonder, where is my retirement account? Why haven’t I paid off my debt yet? Why aren’t my crush and I cohabitating? Many times this year, I’ve felt as though things aren’t happening fast enough and then I have to remember how much I’ve grown in just one year. It’s safe to say none of those changes happened overnight and because I see every painstaking detail of my life, I lose sight of the big picture. Where I am now is progress from where I’ve been.
If nothing else from this article, remember this one thing: The amount of things that are your business is greatly outweighed by the amount of things that are not. Where does that feeling of inadequacy come from? It’ll feel like things aren’t happening fast enough for you when you’re busy paying attention to other people and comparing yourself to them. I often compare myself to folks who are several levels ahead of where I am. You don’t know how people afford where they live, if their relationship is actually as beautiful as it seems, and all the work that goes into looking like I woke up like this. Take this for example. To some people, the fact that I moved out of my family’s house at 22 is remarkable. And in many ways, it is. But there are particular reasons why I actively choose to live on my own, and that brings on the added stress that comes with being as financially independent as I am.
And for folks that are as self-motivated and as much of a perfectionist as I am, maybe comparison isn’t the only thief of our joy, in which case, the same is still true for us. What we do isn’t other people’s business. If your anxiety comes from worrying about other people’s opinions of you, remember that what they think doesn’t matter, unless they’re helping you towards your goals. If not, you’re using mental space you could be going elsewhere. It’ll feel like things aren’t happening fast enough, but that’s because we’re only at the beginning. You can’t accomplish anything worthwhile without experience and occasional mistakes. Stay focused and trust that what you need is already inside of you.
That degree only matters sometimes.
By the time I graduated, classes for my major seemed like they were at the bottom of my priority list (I say this as someone who was guaranteed to graduate on time – I know that’s not a universal thing). All in all, I probably spent around 40% of college actually doing academic work for my majors. That means that a lot of the time, what my degree is in isn’t so much a sign of expertise so much as a tool. While I’m looking for jobs, having a bachelor’s is most often a requirement. But what matters way more is having experience and vision in the kind of work I want to do.
More generally, a lot of my pride was wrapped up in being a Black person that graduated from an elite PWI. That’s still important to me, not because of the prestige, but because I succeeded somewhere that wasn’t made for me. And while that degree gives me certain access and privileges (don’t degrees say ‘all the rights and privileges’?), it’s been super important to temper my internalized elitism, especially in Black spaces, where it’s important to keep in mind how being college-educated does or doesn’t affect my social standing. Most of my knowledge of the world doesn’t come from having a college degree, so that also shows me that other people can have so much more wisdom than I could ever dream of without ever setting foot on a college campus.
And when I reflect back on some of the dipshits I went to college with, I remember that going to college does not by any means make people smart or worthwhile individuals.
You’re not tied to your past.
One of my high school teachers said, “When you go to college, you lie about who you were in high school. And then when you get your first job, you lie about who you were in college. And then at your second job, you lie about who you were at your first job.” While lying may be a bit intense, he did have a point. Again, you have a nice, clean break. You aren’t bound to be who you were or what you think you should be doing a year out of school. You aren’t beholden to most of the things you once were so embrace that. Let yourself live a little. Let shit go. And I know it can be hard, but try to tune out the voices who tell you otherwise.
I could probably make a podcast season about everything I’ve learned in one year of being out of college. The things I’ve listed here are some the most important changes that have happened for me, and I’ll report back about what happens in year two (because I have many exciting things planned). Leave a comment or send an email to allison@allisonalcena.com and tell me either what you’ve learned recently, or what you learned after leaving school. Until next time, follow me on Instagram @allisonalcena.
[Image description: Allison sits against a yellow wall in Guadeloupe, smiling. They are wearing a green fanny pack, a yellow, navy blue and orange striped shirt, jean shorts, dark sunglasses, and white sneakers.]
[This was recorded on our porch while in Guadeloupe. Sorry for any plane sounds, dogs barking, or any other background noise. Vacation isn’t silent like I want.]
I’ve thought about love a lot recently. It’s something I always think about, but it’s been particularly loud these last few weeks. I love love. My favorite holiday is Valentine’s Day (roll your eyes, I don’t care) because it gives folks a space to be blatant and bold in expressing their love for one another. I really love love. And love is also something that caused me a lot of shame. Loving as deeply, as profoundly as I do, has gotten me hurt more than a few times. I’ve loved others more deeply than I’ve loved myself, and loved the comfort they provided more than I loved doing what was best for me. As a queer person (and queerness for some folks is as much an ontology as it is about who we love), my conception and enactment of love is seen as counterculture. Folks consider it confusing, foreign and in the worst cases, disgusting. And as a non-binary person, loving myself means being really fucking honest about who I am and how I want to be seen in the world, which requires being uncomfortable a lot of the time. So clearly my recent thoughts about love have pointed inwards, beyond how I’m interacting with the people I love. It’s been about how I as a subject interact with this idea of love.
In the past few months, I’ve stumbled across a radical piece of information: love doesn’t have to hurt. And by stumbled, I mean I got sick and tired of self-loathing, accepting the bare minimum from people (especially those who are clearly capable of loving others), and being so depleted from loving others that I couldn’t even stand to be alone, for fear of realizing how I actually felt. So I didn’t stumble – I pulled the ripcord on a parachute, and it’s been the kind of freeing, terrifying tumble I imagine skydiving to be. This idea that love doesn’t have to hurt made me take stock of my relationships (all of them), and assess if they were where I wanted them to be. Those that were draining, I cut off or limited. And those that feel rich, I’m trying to nurture. In doing so, I’ve remembered why I love love. It feels abundant in my life, and if I’m managing it well, it’s the most rewarding, fulfilling, meaningful thing I have in my possession and to offer.
As I mentioned, the fact that love holds that much significance in my life has felt like a shameful thing. That feeling of shame started once I started having romantic interactions with people: in part, because they started somewhat earlier than most folks that I know. So as I do this case study on what love means in my life, I tried a little experiment. What if I try to be single? (Revolutionary) What if I try to not place so much value in myself as a lover, and instead turn that energy inwards? A couple things happened. My mom likes to tell the story of how after an impassable relationship, she had ruled out dating, and once she stopped looking, that’s when she fell for my dad. They’ve been together for almost twenty years now. In a microcosmic way, I feel as though that’s what happened for me – finally having a relationship that was worthwhile, although the timing was off and it ended. In intentionally being alone beforehand, my fear of loving myself and being by myself became a blaring problem that I couldn’t ignore any longer. That relationship was meaningful because for the first time, I was my top priority, even while coupled. And I often use my partners as an external consciousness – a place to say my thoughts, expecting the affirmation I can’t give myself. And instead, this relationship was a playground to just have fun with another person. Our relationship wasn’t without its intensity and serious moments, but it was the first time that I didn’t feel anxious or tense being around someone. That prioritization of being single also gave me enough space to create some sort of criteria for the people I’m with, so this person was probably better suited for me than anyone else had been. And even still, as I mentioned, it ended. The timing was off, and I still didn’t feel totally comfortable by myself. I’m not far along enough to not lose myself in someone else. And despite the fact that this relationship was fantastic in many ways, I care about myself enough to not stay in something that I’m not sure of – for my sake and theirs.
In sharing this in more frenzied terms, with my therapist, she asked me, “Why not date yourself for a while?” I think that’s where I’m at. I’m nervous to do so, because I know how many corners of my life have been filled with a partner. I’ll have a lot more time on my hands. But if this process is anything like dating another person, the getting-to-know-you (getting to know and like you) phase is the most fun. I’m looking forward to “getting to know myself more,” so that when faced with a predicament, I’ll have pretty default settings.
And to let myself get on a high horse for a minute, this is the type of adult stuff I wish knew happened when I was in college, and why I share rather openly. I expected that my biggest ontological questions would be about my career, my supposed purpose. And perhaps shame on me for being so narrow-minded, but I thought that adults were somehow fixed. I didn’t know what adults thought about, but I couldn’t think about much besides my assignments and what was happening on my campus or with my family. I tried so very hard to shrink myself when I was at school – afraid to love myself, because that felt like such a powerful thing. Maybe I was afraid it would distract me. But luckily, I finished and have time to think about myself, and only myself. It’s a luxury to be my only priority, and I’m trying not to take that for granted.
[Image description: Allison is smiling into the camera and holding a sparkler. They are wearing a gray shirt and tortoiseshell eyeglasses.]
Tomorrow is my 23rd birthday. And every year since I was about 15 or 16, I’ve written myself a letter around my birthday to reflect on the past year and name my hopes for what’s to come. I’ve decided to write this letter as a blog post, to also commemorate the fact that I made this website at 22 and that’s something I don’t give myself enough credit for.
Dear Allison,
Your 22nd year is coming to a close in a matter of hours. And while 22 was something with potential, that maybe would happen and you’d envisioned, 23 is entirely new territory. Have you ever envisioned yourself at 23, before these last few weeks? 23 is the first year since, what, 1996 without school for you. And there are many changes in store.
But let’s take a minute to reflect on all that 22 was. You rang in this new year with Lauren and Elliott in New Orleans – one of the first vacations you’d ever been on. And then went to Miami less than three weeks later. You got into graduate school (and let them know today that you aren’t going). You graduated college. You got a car two days later. You dated your best friend. You got your first job. You lived at home for the first time in three years. You were there for your family through struggles and milestones. You made a website and finally embraced the title of “writer.” You moved to a new state, by yourself. You got diagnosed with depression. You changed…a lot. And your life looks completely different than it did a year ago. It looks a lot how you’ve always wanted it to, when you did envision it.
And at times, that’s terrifying. The times you don’t feel enough are few and far between now, but they’re still present. The voice in your head has softened. If I have one takeaway from 22, it’s that you’re incredible. And I don’t mean that lightly, as something written in gold cursive on a placard in the dollar section at Target. But like, for real, think of everything that you’ve gotten through this year. And some things, you more than got through – you succeeded in. But perhaps one of the most dramatic changes you’ve made at 22 is realizing that success isn’t just achievement. Sometimes it is just simply getting by and recognizing that that’s enough. Personal success can include knowing when to quit. That includes people.
There’s something relieving about not envisioning a future for yourself. And I don’t mean that to glorify those thoughts at all. I’m not condoning or justifying them. Instead, what I mean is that in the past, you’ve been so concerned with having such and such goal done by whatever age (like having a license at 16, which you didn’t, or getting a job before graduation at 22, which you just barely did) that you didn’t do very much enjoying. Sure, there were moments of joy, but they were fleeting. In place of joy was determination. But now, what expectations do you have besides maintaining some of the parts of your life now, like living alone and being able to afford this car? Very few expectations can equal freedom. And that’s a good thing!
So overall, I want you to know I’m so proud of you, Allison. Considering that throughout 2017/22, you’ve said this was “the worst year” of your life, it’s amazing that you’re ending it feeling happy. Genuinely happy. And loved. And tipsy on a giant margarita. So cheers to 23, and to maintaining that joy.
[Image description: A person holds burning sage. They have long, black fingernails and many rings]
[Recorded from my car. Bad, bad for not being an attentive driver. Kudos for being a very good oral writer, tho.] Hold onto your butts, y’all. It’s a long one!
I’ve been thinking about excuses a lot lately, and for a lot of reasons. I feel like I’ve gotten into something of a rut when it comes to, I guess, just myself. I’ve spent a lot of time prioritizing other people and what their wants are for me, rather than thinking about what it is that I actually want and in turn, what I want from the same people. So, one thing that I was kind of beating myself up for, but not really, was that I didn’t apply to an opportunity recently. I had planned to apply to something after traveling for a week and then working almost the full week after that. And for a second there, I was upset at myself. I think I need to get out of the college mentality that, you know, if I have free time, I need to use it towards furthering myself somehow, professionally.
What I wish that I had done last week, rather that stressing about this application, was actually intensively take care of myself and recuperate because I’m a very…I don’t know what the descriptor would be, but I love stability, and therefore I don’t actually like traveling a whole lot. I’m a homebody. That’s the word I’m looking for. I love being at home, in my own space, and more often than not, by myself. So being away for a week wasn’t great. And then, I was like, “Oh, of course it makes sense for me to try to apply to something after being gone for a week.” Simultaneously, my partner’s car got totaled last week. So I was trying to attend to that. And I’ve been on the topic of excuses, mentally, because now I’m at the point where me saying, “I don’t feel like it,” isn’t even an excuse. I don’t feel bad when I say that to myself.
Recently, I talked to one of my students about, kind of the same thing because I’ve been thinking about excuses (and I guess that’ll be the refrain for this post), and we were talking about how oftentimes, especially going to college, you’re socialized to take up every single opportunity. You can’t say no to things. And that often means that we’re not still in being able to say, “This isn’t the right time.” We’re taught that those things are excuses, so “It’s not the right time for me to apply to this, I don’t think that um, this is the best decision for me, et cetera et cetera et cetera.” We’re told that that’s an excuse. And it’s not.
Well, I guess the next thing that I’ve been thinking about is, is talking about excuses therefore an excuse for not doing things? You know, in that, as I was not applying to this thing, I had started to put something together, you know, made my resume, started to outline my personal statement and then it was due Sunday and Friday night rolled around and I was like, “I’m not feeling it.” You know? I spent all of Friday working on this thing and I was like, “I’m not feeling it. The timing isn’t right. And plus, I’m not in college anymore, you know? I don’t want to be procrastinating.” And that’s a very luxurious thing to say right? I don’t wanna be doing two days before they’re due. But it’s true. So, like I already mentioned, I didn’t apply to the thing. And I don’t feel bad about it. I think this is only probably the second time in my life that I’ve decided to turn down an opportunity in the application phase. The other time that that happened was when I was applying to a major national scholarship my junior year of college. And I had that shit. On. Lock. Like, I had my recommenders, I knew what they were gonna say. It was a scholarship where the recommenders needed to be in different fields. I had everybody picked out, like, well before the deadline, like, I was really taking my time on this. I wasn’t trying to procrastinate. And even though I felt like I was doing everything right, I still decided not to apply because in me applying, around that same time, one of my friends from high school died. And that’s major, obviously, but it kind of put into perspective for me, that the timing isn’t always right on things. And even if an opportunity seems perfect, timing is still a detail in that. If the timing isn’t right, it’s not perfect.
So I have this Nayyirah Waheed quote bookmarked, not bookmarked, archived on my Instagram. And it says in more poetic language, even if somebody’s perfect for you, if there’s something about them that you want to change or there’s something about yourself that you wanna change to be with that person, then they’re not right for you. And I guess I’m trying to make a comparison between that and opportunities in that timing is often a component that we lose sight of. We think to ourselves, you know, “This is perfect. This is the opportunity in my field that I’ve been waiting for. It’s in the city that I wanna be in!” But there’s something. Like, it doesn’t pay or I would have to move too many things around in my life to make this thing fit and if that’s the case then it isn’t the best opportunity. But we’re so stuck on thinking that we have to be doing everything all the time and we can’t actually take time for ourselves.
So, on the point of timing being an excuse, how often do we act like self-care is an excuse for something, you know? I’m gonna stop all of this hustling that I’m doing, all of this work, and just concentrate on myself. And I can say, safely and humbly, that I have completely fucked myself this week – I completely fucked myself over this week, rather, because my to do list has more things than it does time to do the things on it. So, I’m supposed to write an article this week, I’m supposed to do my job, and then I forgot that I signed up for a leadership academy two days out of the week from 9-4. So I have to do a bunch of stuff for work but I didn’t account for two days out of my week are missing. And so, lately…lately as in like, the last forty-eight hours, I’m trying to prioritize taking care of myself. I’m trying to reassure myself that doing that isn’t an excuse. I’ve kind of – I had this attitude in college, but I don’t actually think I stuck to it, especially because I was an RA, I feel like I was kind of more talk in this sense than I was like, action, but um, I used to always say to people, other students when I was in college, “If you’re not doing well, you won’t do good work.” And I meant that insofar as actual academic work but I think that that applies across the board like if you’re not well, you aren’t doing the best you can be.
And we live in this society, I’m sure this is rooted in capitalism and white supremacy and patriarchy et cetera et cetera that tells us that we need to be sleeping five hours a night and spending thirty hours in a day working on some shit for us to be valuable. And that’s how people completely burn out, graduate from college with like, no sense of self, feeling completely depleted, having people feel like unless they hit xyz benchmark by xyz age that they’re not doing enough. And that’s not an excuse. You know, feeling like – feeling like you just can’t isn’t an excuse. I guess I’m wondering the whole definition of an excuse, what falls into that? Because there are so many times in life that I felt like I wasn’t trying hard enough. I had people tell me that I wasn’t trying hard enough and that’s not something that you can say for someone else. And I’m thinking about this especially, I know I talk a lot about my depression, and that’s because it’s something that’s new in my life insofar as having a name for it. But there are so many times that I was literally going through a depressive episode, at times like a debilitating one, and I felt like, “Oh, I’m not trying hard enough, you know, blah blah blah.” And telling myself that inherently knowing that feeling, like, intuiting if that’s a word [Editor’s note: It is. What’s up], but, knowing myself well enough to feel bad in a way I can’t work around. I know I can’t change this. But still like, I feel like that’s an excuse. And I feel like we sell people short in doing that, in that we make people feel like they’re performing at this unrealistic level, then they’re not enough.
I forgot to mention at the beginning of this, because I’m pretty focused, Happy Black History Month! And February is my favorite month of the year because Valentine’s Day is my favorite holiday, and my birthday is the week after. I’ve contemplating putting up an Amazon wish list either on my social media or here, you know, to get some gifts. But, you know, in it being Black History Month, Blackness is always at the center of my mind. You can read the about page on this website, and I’m pretty sure the first sentence says “love of all things Black” or something along those lines [Editor’s note: It does. What’s up]. But, how often do we tell Black people that they’re not trying hard enough, that they’re being lazy, that if only they could try and compare to people who will never have the same life circumstances as we do, then, you know, then we could have an actual excuse for something. But “you’re not working as hard as Johnny Whiteboy, well that’s just a shame. Whatever you’re saying is an excuse.” So, in thinking about Blackness and excuses and you know, myself as a nonbinary Black person, like, when do we ever just get to fucking chill? Like, when do we ever just get to like, take care of ourselves and not be teaching somebody something, be helping somebody with something, be figuring something out for somebody, you know? To say, “I don’t wanna do that,” isn’t an excuse.
And I’d also like to add something that I’ve seen circulating a lot lately which is that no is a complete sentence. Like, explaining your rationale for not doing something, that’s what we call an excuse. It’s like when you say, “no, because” but you don’t even need to [laughs], I always thinking that I have a very monotone voice and then, you know, I do stuff like that. But, if I can replicate it, you don’t even need to [laughs] to explain your no to somebody. And I guess I should be saying this more in first person. Because I need to hear it. And I’m very good at saying things to other people and then not practicing them. Perhaps the best form of hypocrisy like telling people that they need to take care of themselves and then I don’t do it. But um, you know, you don’t – me saying, “I don’t want to,” is enough of a reason.
To circle back to the beginning, this opportunity that I wanted to apply to is for a company that I’ve always wanted to work for – well really, an organization, but it’s for an organization that I’ve always wanted to work for, it’s focusing on the exact field that I wanna be in, but it feels like, such a good opportunity. But what I need to remember is that it’s not a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Others will come, if not this exact one, next year, but something, you know? The timing isn’t right, so it’s not the right thing for me to do, right now. And that’s okay. That’s really okay. And I, of my own volition, am in a writing class that focuses very heavily on accountability, and I spent the morning before my class feeling sick because I said that my writing goal for the week was to apply for this thing and I’m not gonna have it done, and feeling so bad on myself. For what? You know?
As much as I post recordings on my website, I actually spend a lot more time just recording for myself. I find it helpful to speak things out and then listen back to them. So this [past] weekend I recorded myself for forty minutes and then played it back while I was in the shower and it felt like I was listening to a personalized podcast, but what I said to myself this weekend was, “No one cares.” Too, especially when it comes to matters of the self like whether you’re gonna apply to something for yourself or if you’re gonna do something that only affects you, then you really don’t have to explain yourself for those things if it only affects you. So what I was saying to myself is like, yeah I set this writing goal that I was gonna have this application done because it was like a creative opportunity and then I was like, you know fucking what? If anybody’s mad at me that I didn’t do this, which is not gonna be the case, there’s this tweet that I will link that says “social anxiety is conspiracy theories about yourself,” so to temper that I had to remind myself, if anybody gets mad at me for some shit that I said I was gonna do that doesn’t affect them, that’s on them, and no one’s upset. I would venture to say no one cares. Like, it’s so chill. It’s fine. And that’s not an excuse. Me, knowing – this opportunity starts before my current fellowship ends, so I couldn’t do it. Or like, I would have to make a lot of shit move for it to happen and I don’t feel all that bad for then not applying to it, right? That’s not an excuse. That’s a reason to not do something.
And so, that’s something that I’ve been ruminating on recently. So I didn’t make this, in part to reassure myself, but rather I’ve been talking to other folks, you know, about excuses and such, directly and indirectly and saying, “I might post this up” and stuff. And so, I just wanted to share that because hopefully it’ll make somebody feel better that, like, everything’s chill. And if it feels like it’s not, this is the external voice that you need saying that it’s chill.
[Image description: A Polaroid photo against a carpet. In the photo, Allison is smiling into the camera. Their hair is down. They wear a sweater, a t-shirt and dark pants.]
In a phrase: worse for wear. The last two weeks have been marked by my first depressive episode since I got diagnosed in October. And I’ve been getting by (just barely) with lots of Instagram scrolling, ASMR videos and generous support from my partner. But all in all, shit’s been hard. For folks without depression, imagine the following two scenarios. A) You think to do something, and say, “alright, I will. Let me spend the next half hour preparing to do this thing.” B) You get in the shower because you have to wash your hair, then as soon as the water hits your scalp, you realize you don’t have the energy to follow through. Imagine the feelings those scenarios conjure, then apply them towards nearly every action you do for anywhere between two days and two months.
And as you may recall, my New Years Resolution for 2018 is to have a better outlook. I prepared for this new year with more purposeful introspection than ever before: using my rough 2017 as evidence for how to move forward and naming what I want more of this year. I spent over an hour recording a reflection of 2017 so that I could hear, in my own words, what happened and what changed. And that’s all…helpful, I suppose. But this latest episode reiterated something I’ve known for a while. I can do all of this mental hygiene work when I’m feeling well, but when I’m not, my mind is on two different tracks. There’s a small, regional train that stops off at different topics – “healthy relationship practices,” “self-care rituals,” “how to improve my communication.” And then there’s a Maglev that speeds towards unlit tunnels, unclear as to whether the other side is boarded up, a cliff, or whether it exists at all. And through the depths of my depression, they move simultaneously. I can hear the calm, familiar voice in my head that says everything I’m feeling will pass and generate evidence as to why those depressed thoughts are baseless. But then, the much louder depressed voice will shout things that aren’t worth repeating except to my therapist. So I’m left sleep deprived, disoriented and pretty frustrated.
And in talking about my depression – just how I talk in general, I’m trying to move away from adding a little ding positive note at the end of everything. So, after sleeping for 15 hours straight, I won’t tell you that everything’s fine.
But, there is something to be said about being proactive about these situations and realizing they will come whether I like it or not, rather than trying to combat them in a sluggish state. It’s hard to break old habits, especially when they’re tried and true ways to keep myself safe, but now I have the ability to question whether there are better ways to do the same things. This most recent episode was brought on by the knowledge that I have yet another life transition ahead of me this year. My first post-grad job is ending in several months, and I’ve made the decision to uproot myself yet again (and not go to grad school), but this time in hopes of settling, if only for two or three years. And it’s amazing how the body and unconscious mind remember the past more than our most present selves do. The first time I had to find a full-time job and subsequently move, every aspect of my life felt up in the air. And now…that isn’t the case. Sure, things will change, but I feel much more in control than I did the first time, however daunting it feels.
So, 2018 got off to a rough start. But I’m hoping that I can continue to absorb this knowledge I’m getting about myself and ding apply it towards that better outlook.
[Image description: A Polaroid on a blue background. In the photo, Allison is holding gold, cut-out lips. They are standing in front of a glittery background next to a balloon]
2017 is drawing to a close and I can’t remember a recent time in life I’ve been this excited for an event. This year caused me to grow in ways I didn’t think were possible, under some of the worst possible conditions. Rather than a ten-second or even one-minute countdown to New Years, I’ve been counting the days since Thanksgiving, so I can wave goodbye (and good riddance) to this year.
My New Years Resolution for 2017 was simple: survive. And clearly I did, although it was no small task. To be fair, this year did have some highs. I actually did get an Elantra, I finished school, I got to see relatives I hadn’t in too long of a time, and more. But overwhelmingly, this year kicked my ass and was reluctant to hand it back. At one point, or maybe more than one, I thought to myself, “How much worse could this get?” And then the Universe would laugh and throw something else at me. So in the next twenty-one days of 2017, I’m gonna need everything to not bother fucking with me. A bitch is tired and I really just want the ten-day vacation I’m going to have starting next week. Until then, @ everything else, leave me alone.
However, rather ironically, my New Years Resolution for 2018 is to have a better outlook. And I’m a disbeliever in positivity, so I won’t say, “I want to be more positive.” But I want to feel hopeful, because time and time again in 2017, I felt hopeless. And whether or not that feeling was warranted given the circumstances, 2017 in one sentence was surviving with little hope for the future. Just trying to get by. Many times, I’ve contemplated a tattoo that said “for one more day,” after a Mitch Albom novel that I read in high school. That’s been my outlook for the last maybe…six years of undiagnosed depression and some noteworthy situations. “Let me just get through today, and it’ll be better tomorrow.” And clearly I’m still here and kicking it so that outlook has served me well I guess, but I want to move past it. I thought about finally getting the “for one more day” tattoo when I first moved to North Carolina, but instead I got the word “grace.” You see the difference?
In 2018, in having a better outlook, I want to be more accepting and forgiving (mostly of myself). I want to accept having anxiety and depression, and being single. In fact, I want to embrace those things as building blocks of who I am. I want to make positive changes for myself like paying off more debt, possibly getting a black kitten named February (!), and being more diligent about finding an apartment and job than I was the first time around. I want to be kinder to myself and extend myself the same empathy and gratitude I try to share with others. While 2017 was at times filled with senseless adversity, I want to also see the lessons and growth it provided. See! Lots of good changes in the works! Better outlook!
And finally, I’ll no longer be posting every single week like clockwork. I wanted to get into the habit of blogging regularly here, and I think I have. So I’ll probably still post once a week, but I’m not holding myself in such a death grip over it anymore, especially since the last few weeks of this year will likely be hectic.
What are you trying to change in 2018? Or better yet, what did you learn this year?
[Image description: A person is measuring on a piece of paper. They wear a red hat and black watch. There is a copy of Oh, the Places You’ll Go on the table with a cell phone.]
Perhaps because I’m about to begin the daunting process of finding a new job, I’ve spent the last few weeks mulling over my strengths and weaknesses. And what I mean to say is, I’ve spent the last few weeks concentrating on my professional strengths so that in my personal downtime, I’m left to wonder, “what am I bad at?” And I’m not implying that I’m not bad at anything but…I’m bad at knowing what I’m bad at. And I’m very good at knowing what I’m good at.
I had to take a 100+ question strength finder test for work, and one of my results was “maximizer” (the writer and literature person in me hates that the labels are not consistent, i.e. all nouns or adjectives, but anyways…). To paraphrase my results, that means that excellence is the standard I hold myself, and others, to. I get special pleasure in refining people’s strengths to produce excellence. It’s “more fun…more productive…and counterintuitively, more demanding” to be this way – and I avoid people who try to make me well rounded. Instead, I just want to focus on what I’m good at. So the irony is not lost on me that I’m struggling to find my weaknesses with this maximizing trait.
But here’s the thing that always comes up when I consider my weaknesses: they’re also my strengths. This strength finder also said I have “responsibility” (cringing), which means that I take personal ownership of my involvement in situations. And while that’s bad for obvious reasons – the world does not revolve around me and we’d be in a lot of trouble if it did – that means that I care very, very deeply about the things I’m involved in. I’m supremely responsible and I also get pulled into obligations I didn’t sign up for, but still deliver. And there’s a rabbit hole I could fall into about how all of those strengths influence each other and at time become weaknesses.
Now, I’ve already written on here about how I’m trying to come to terms with my weaknesses or flaws. But I actually think that’s dangerous territory. It leads me to label things like my anxiety disorder as a personal weakness (contrary to what two partners have said, this is not true). My anxiety is neither here nor there – it’s just a fact of life. Sure, it’s probably contributed to much of my success in life because I feel like the world will literally implode unless I do my best. But I’ve learned that self-pride is more motivating than that fear of failure. In being a “maximizer,” I spent this week ignoring obvious signs of anxiety in favor of delivering results, and that ended in a moderate panic attack, which I had to see as just…being. It wasn’t good or bad. It shouldn’t have been a humiliating thing, nor was it necessarily a “good” thing. It was a wake up call and good if only because it required me to stop the behaviors I was leaving unchecked.
I’m actually trying to move away from the idea of having “strengths” or “weaknesses” at all, unless I’m asked during a job interview. The parts of myself simply are. At times those traits work in my favor, and at others, I could’ve benefited from other ones. But no part of me is inherently better or worse than another, and I think focusing on strengths or weaknesses creates such a dichotomy.
All of that to say, I’m not weak. At all. And neither are you.
[Image description: Allison’s closet. There are clothes hanging and baskets on the floor]
If you’ve read the “Publications” section of my blog, you’ll see that once upon a time, I had an intense soiree with minimalism. In the spring of 2016 (second semester my junior year of college), I gave away about 60% of my clothing. The article on how I did it can be found here. And after that closet clear out, I’ve found myself having a bit of a conflicted relationship with minimalism. I’ve gotten into thinking that minimalism, for me, simply means not having a lot of stuff. And that translates to clothes shopping every time I get paid (and spending about $300), but justifying it with donating old clothes, so that my closet still remains small, and my number of possessions overall remains small because I can’t afford shit else besides bills and food.
In the last article I wrote for Black Minimalists, I got at the root of what makes me buy things, especially clothes: it feels good. And it gives me the sense that I have wealth. And I spent $149 on clothes on Saturday, and $70 the week before that, and altogether probably $300 last month. Since living on my own and having a salaried job, I’ve fallen into old pre-“minimalism” habits; although, I don’t know if I ever broke them to begin with. I do think that post-grad, I’ve done a personal re-branding of sorts, and part of that meant dressing differently and looking different overall (I wore my hair down a total of maybe twenty times between September 2015 and May 2017. And now, I don’t feel like myself without feeling curls on my neck. Why did I do that for two years?). But I finally feel as if my outside matches my inside, in part thanks to the clothes I’ve bought. Maybe that’s just another excuse I’m making, but I did feel compelled to get some new things to create a distance from my college self.
Right now, I’m doing what I did when I first approached minimalism a year and a half ago. I have a bookmarks folder of (intentionally) expensive, great quality things, so that I’m less inclined to go to TJ Maxx or the mall and spend $200 at once because I’m buying “good” stuff for less than $30 a piece. Instead, I want to think of my purchases as investments. I’ve been able to justify my clothing purchases as being investments, though, by buying name brand everything: a Champion hoodie, two pairs of Levis, Air Max 90s, a Banana Republic blazer. I guess my hope is that envisioning a $200 Louis Vuitton cardholder or a $250 Penfield jacket will make me think twice about buying $12 red velvet pants (which I have to say, I don’t regret).
That’s the thing – I don’t regret the stuff I’ve been buying. The only reason I do is because it means I have less money to spend on other things (or save, which I’m decent at), or I’m putting myself further into credit card debt. But this morning, after listening to the episode of Hey Girl where Alex Elleand Roe of Brown Kids discuss minimalism and financial freedom, I realized that I need to wake the fuck up. I have a very teeny tiny amount of student loans (well under $10,000), and a not-so-teeny amount of credit card debt, because in 2017 I prioritized saving money over using it to pay off debt. I want to change that. I want to be debt-free (I also forget that the 2017 car I drive is a damn loan and thus, debt), or at least rid of my student loans and credit card debt as soon as possible. And to do that, I need to stop buying clothes.
And not only do I need to stop buying clothes – I need to for real interrogate this obsession with clothing and spending. That’s the most important thing. I can set goals for myself (pay off my credit card debt by the time this job ends), but what good is that if I don’t know why I’m like this? It’s a recipe for disaster, because what’s been happening lately is I set a strict-ish budget, so when I get the urge to shop, I’m putting it on my credit card so that that budget doesn’t get fucked up (although it still does, because my credit card balance is not floating in outer space – it’s here and it’s past due). And minimalism might not be the best way for me to approach this. It requires a level of discipline and change of outlook that I don’t think I’m capable of just yet.
So, long story short – I’m trying. Or I’m gonna start trying. I also have to remind myself that having a 700+ credit score and some form of savings, however small it seems, is a good spot to be in. Maybe this will be another post but I often lose sight of how young 22/23 years old is. And so I’m rushing to have this financial stuff figured out because the sooner the better, but considering how old I am, I’m in an okay spot. I have to stop playing myself with clothes, and the sooner I do, the better off I’ll be.
Allison Woodley 