*Taps mic*
Is this thing on?
Hello? Hi. Wow, ummm. I didn’t mean to disappear for an entire year-plus, but time flies when you’re getting your ass kicked, eh?
Last I wrote here, I talked a lot about the concept of enough and how it pertains to money, desires, life milestones—all of it. And I only know that because I had to look back in my archives to see, as I wasn’t even sure how to log in to SubStack when I first sat down to write a few weeks ago. It’s going great!
The thing is, my past year has been reminiscent of a night out at The Cheesecake Factory: Equal parts overwhelming but underwhelming, delicious at first glance but ultimately disappointing, and has really just left a lot to be desired. This might also be a metaphor for the American Dream at this point, but for now, I’m using it for my own life.
Anytime I’m gone for a while online, be it on Instagram, or my old blog, or here on SubStack, the only way I know how to re-enter is via a general life update. Before I can start again, I have to set the scene that reintroduces you to the bigger picture. My brain doesn’t know another way, so here it goes.
At the beginning of last year (2023), just weeks before a scheduled hip surgery, my Mom went into the hospital for, instead, emergency gallbladder surgery. Then, three months later when she went in for the now-rescheduled hip surgery, she had a heart attack in her post-op recovery room (unbeknownst to any medical professional on her floor at the time), which resulted in her being transferred to another hospital where she had two stents put in with four-day-old stitches in her hip. ARE WE HAVING FUN YET OR WHAT?
While all of this was happening, I was in the midst of negotiating and accepting a shiny new job offer that had truly appeared out of the blue and right on time. So, from the hallways of a south Floridian cardio unit (literally), I ultimately made the not-so-casual decision to leave my job of four years for something different—little did I know just how different. The level of cortisol pumping through my veins over the course of these few weeks was enough to kill a small child—maybe even a large one, like me. But somehow it didn’t, and in late May I left my sweet job and dearest colleagues for a new, far more corporate opportunity. I went from a company of about 400 people to 50,000 people, and while the size of my department is still comparable to that of my previous department, the roles itself is anything but. All that to say, the past eleven months have been an absolute whirlwind and have catapulted me into a mother fucker of a season, to be eloquent about it.
The job couldn’t be more different than my previous job and most days I joke that I’ve left the advertising industry altogether, but I’m not really joking. The corporate culture has been quite the shock to my anti-corporate inner rebel and free spirit, but I recognize (or tell myself?) it’s also probably serving as a good experience for her too. I go into the office once a week now, which includes a drive on not one but two interstates here in Atlanta and it’s on Mondays, to boot. Oh, the cruelty!
That said, I always maintain that good people are everywhere, and that even includes impossibly hard new jobs. If there’s one thing I know about myself personally and professionally after 39 years in this life, it’s that I deeply understand people and how to foster sustainable relationships with them. And once again, that’s what’s saving me at this job. Well, that and my professional ride-or-die, a friend and colleague who came on this journey with me from my previous agency. Because let me tell you, you need these people if you are going to attempt to survive Corporate America. I’m lucky to have several of them, and doubly so to have this particular woman during this season.
But even with the good people and my aforementioned ride-or-die, the end of 2023 was…dark over here. The year caught up with me, most of which was the constant stress of the job and all of the many ways that bleeds into your personal life, and I crashed hard. I’m not sure if the week between Christmas and New Year’s actually happened or if I just wasn’t there for it. I was struck with the kind of depression that paralyzes you, convincing you it’s your new and forever reality. (To be clear, I don’t really have a history of depresssion—not like this, which made it all the more alarming and honestly, terrifying.) Given that it fell during a time of year when everyone is busy with family and at emotional capacity themselves, there was a particular kind of isolation to it. It was the cherry on top of what had already been a hard year and as New Year’s Day rolled around, I was perhaps the most unenthused about the turning of a new year I’ve ever been. The warning signs I’d seen in the distance now sat directly in front of me giving me no choice but to make a move and protect myself. Work had hijacked mental health in a way I’d only heard about on podcasts, but had never experienced personally.
As I do, I went down a rabbit hole of online resources and found this fascinating talk by one of my favorite researchers and writers, Johann Hari, and lightbulbs quickly illuminated my serotonin-depleted brain. He spoke about how lack of autonomy at work is a root cause of depression due to the lack of control one has and shared several anecdotes to help illustrate his points. I felt validated and seen, and for the first time in months, was able to gain some much-needed perspective. Nothing was wrong with me, but my circumstances had indeed become intolerable and were going to need some serious revising. So, as the slow days between Christmas and New Year’s rolled on by, I vowed to myself that I wouldn’t keep working the way I had been; that I would put some firm space between myself and the job and not let it destroy my health any further, even if it came at the cost of my (high) performance. Nearly six months later, I can report that I’ve stayed true to myself and my commitment and I feel much more like Emily than I did at the end of last year. Assuming that I start to write frequently here again, you can expect to hear more from me on all things workism, Corporate America, rest, resistance, etc. I have some THOUGHTS.
But on the flip side of the darkness was also so much light, because like everything in life, contrast. Even the Cheesecake Factory menu has some winners too, let’s not kid ourselves. Last winter, I went scuba diving in the bluest of blue Caribbean waters for the first time in nearly a decade. In late Spring, I snuck in a perfect spring skiing trip to Colorado, and then in September, my usual late-summer trip, just in time to catch the first hues of yellow on the Aspens. And in between the two jobs, I took this freckled body and all of the sunscreen in the world to Arizona where I skipped around in the desert for a week and gawked at 100-year-old, 4o-feet tall Saguaro cacti, discovering another one of God’s greatest hiding spots. It was a slice of Heaven on Earth that I will return to over and over again.
I also bought (read: negotiated, financed, and haggled with car-dealing-men by myself) my first ever new car and named her Margaux. She’s a Mazda CX-30 and at almost one year in, I’m happy to report that we are still absolutely smitten, even when that car payment hits. That’s how you know it’s true love.
Oh. And I SAW THE ERAS TOUR WITH MY BFF FROM THE FIFTH ROW. I could see her fucking teeth. It was the most insane concert experience of my life and something I’ll hold close to me for years to come because I got to experience it with my sweet Matty, AKA, the most hardcore Swiftie you’ve ever known. We laughed, we cried, we lost our voices. We complained of foot pain even whilst standing in our most supportive shoes that boasted arch-support inserts. I don’t know about you, but we are most certainly not 22.
As I sit and write this, I’m bombarded by half a dozen more memories from this year that bring a smirk to my nearly 40-year-old face. Writing is good like that. Eventually, it gets you to the truth and my truth is that yes, this past year has been bloody hard and surely formative. But it’s also been decorated with moments of sheer joy and beauty and when I look back on it, I know it won’t be through a monochrome filter. The Cheesecake Factory would never. Undoubtedly, there will be bursts of offensive color schemes and fonts as far as the rearview can see.
All of this said, in this challenging but multifaceted season I find myself in, I desperately want to return to writing—need to return to writing. The same way I need to drink water, or need to eat foods that contain nutritional value, I need to write. Writing is how I hold center, and my gosh, have I noticed its absence this past year. There is a kind of peace and deep knowing that I receive from my writing practice, and I don’t think I realized how steady that kept me until I went without it for so long. Writing is where I find God, so it’s no wonder that I’ve felt disconnected and a little lost at sea as of late. Of course, I have.
So here’s to returning and re-committing over and over and over again. Here’s to your skills being dull and your calendar being full and sitting down to do it anyways. Here’s to giving yourself what you need at any cost, and here’s to grace, endless grace.
She’s back! There is so much beauty in everything you share. I love your writing voice; it’s so engaging and approachable Em.
Well that was out of the blue, a great morning read! I never knew you were such a talented writer. It has been a long time since I've heard your name, I'm glad to know you're doing well friend! Keep up the good work!