Tag Archives: Life

JustRachel

Empty words – a poem

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“What does it mean?” He asked.

“I don’t know” I replied

I just liked how it sounded

Liked how the words tasted

Liked how they rolled off my tongue when I spoke them sweet and soft.

“Does it matter what it means?” I asked

“I suppose it doesn’t,” he answered “since I’m the only one who cares.”

– RM

Photo by Dario Fernandez Ruz on Pexels.com

Reflection

My best friend sends me poems. For a while, he sent one every day, two if he was going through it, three if s*** really hit the fan. In the last month or two, the consistency has slowed. It ebbs and flows with his free time and creative energy, but this week I’ve gotten more poems than there are days.

See, my friend lives in Rhode Island. He works in higher education—not at Brown University, but in a state that small, that kind of violence and fear ripples out—it’s felt everywhere. In New England, there’s a “if you go after one of us, you go after all of us” kind of mentality. Anyway, working in higher ed, my friend is no stranger to the impacts of this kind of violence because it is so common now that many students in college today are likely to have already experienced or been impacted by one school shooting before getting to college.

I think for a lot of us, it’s easier now than it should be—easier than it ever was—to get desensitized to it all. To get complacent. Passive. The commonness and the screaming into the void makes it feel like there’s nothing we can do. But this week my friend has been capital “A” Angry—as he should be. As we all should be, every time this happens, until and even after it stops happening.

The poem above isn’t one of my friends, it’s mine. I wrote it after being inspired by his anger. Inspired by the fire he has. Inspired by the inaction of lawmakers, the dead end prayers of onlookers and Facebook commenters.

The poem above calls out the fact that all the talking some people do has little more meaning than the impressions they are trying to solicit. The facade they are keeping up to maintain popularity in the court of public opinion.

I wrote this poem because if what we say is without action, if what we say is not backed by our beliefs and or desire to change the things that hurt us most, our words are empty. And if our words are empty, what’s the point…

“Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It’s not.,” – the Lorax

The poem in this piece has also been shared by the author on her personal social media.

JustRachel

On monsters, men, and Captain America

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we havent lost our way, we’ve lost our why

“I don’t want to kill anyone. I don’t like bullies; I don’t care where they’re from,” -Steve Rogers (Captain America)

In 1941, Stan Lee took an image of a stereotypical American, a scrawny kid from Brooklyn, an average-looking red-blooded male who just wanted to serve his country—and gave young boys, a symbol of everything great about America during times of crisis and conflict, everything a soldier and a citizen could be.

if not good, if not empathy, what guides us?

[If there is anything we are truly and woefully lacking in this modern age, it’s a sense of purpose rather than entitlement—I don’t think entitlement does us any good, but I know purpose would]

It’s often easy to forget the lens through which certain stories were crafted, to instead prioritize what we see and have and let ourselves be distracted by the presentation of a hero rather than the purpose and character of them, to swoon and say that’s what a “real man should be” but as much as everyone loves “America’s ass…” personality—we can’t let ourselves forget that Cap wasn’t a hero because of his big muscles. He wasn’t respected because he could pull women or because the bad guys feared him.

No, Captain America wasn’t a hero because he looked like one, or because people said he was one, he was a hero because even when no one was watching, he acted like one.

Captain America wasn’t made to be a monolith. He was made to be a soldier. But he was born to be a kid from Brooklyn (who didn’t like bullies)—and that’s what made him a hero.

this isn’t about a departure from manhood

to some, being a man means not being a woman, but the absence of being one thing is not the act of being another. if being a man is simply not being a woman then what actually is a man? and what actually is a woman? what do either of them have to stand for?

When I was growing up society started having larger discussions about what, “be a man” meant. It was always a statement. Always a negative conversation of ruling out things you weren’t to figure out what you were. And from the outside, at least, it always sounded like something you either then were or you weren’t.

The whole conversation, if you can call it that, left no room for growth, and little room for improvement but it also allowed zero room for the most important question. What is a man?

Of all the things that require someone to tell someone else to be a man, of the things we call people out for being less than “a man” – What is a man?

And, if my interpretation is correct, that sounds like it could have been hard for some people. Confusing even.

Sounds like that yielded a lot more expectation without a real explanation and if that is also true…well, I guess it makes sense how we got here. How we made monsters of men rather than giving them opportunities to be heroes.

living among heroes and men

I grew up with men that I considered heroes. My dad, he wasn’t perfect, but he was my hero. My uncle, he’s has gotten a bit grumblier over the years but he’s a hero to me too, I don’t see that changing. And my brother wouldn’t take the credit but he’s good and he’s noble and I’m proud of who he’s become. (this of course is just to name a few)

None of my heroes look like Chris Evans, but they act like Cap. They lead by example, expect nothing they wouldn’t give, they live with honor, they push forward with love—and I am certain that none of them are fans of bullies.

we all gave up on being heroes, why is that?

There’s a lot of back and forth these days about who we like and who we don’t. About who to blame and who we can’t talk to anymore because of it. But the funny thing to me is that the people we love to hate, the people who don’t think twice about us, who don’t have honor and don’t lead with love are the people, real heroes would feel bad for or maybe even try to help.

The “men” who beg other “men” to think that they are Monoliths rather than being heroes and earning it unrequested. These kinds of “men” believe that the world starts and ends with them. They believe you should sacrifice for them and fight for them, rather than with them and I don’t think that’s what being a man is really about. Not a good one at least, certainly not one I’d be inclined to follow anywhere let alone into battle.

know the difference

America wasn’t always good, but she was greatest when we stood together against oppression, against hatred, against extremists. America was greatest when we decided to use our big stick to fight for the little guy rather than complaining about it coming out of our taxes and watching him get trampled in our wake. America was not always good, but good and great aren’t dependent on single moments but on the promise of better ones tomorrow. And that goal gave us the most potential for greatness that we’ve ever seen—until we lost it.

I hope we find that again one day. I hope we do it right, do it better, do it for everyone next time. But until then, I’m going to encourage men (and women and nonbinary individuals) to decenter those who wish us harm and instead think about the examples that the best among us set.

I encourage you to follow those examples and ignore the rest because right now America doesn’t need any more monsters, or modern “men.” America needs scrawny kids from Brooklyn, she needs heroes—and maybe that’s you.

JustRachel

Touch Grass Little Miss Smart A**

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I recently saw a video where this life or acting coach helped people free themselves from trying to “be cool” by acting so foolish that they couldn’t fake being cool anymore. It immediately freed them from their ego and allowed them to get back to being themeselves etc. & I need that. So. That said, the following chaos is 100% intentional. Welcome back.

I have been stuck. For a while. Well, not “me” physically. I’m not stuck. To be clear: I am not stuck physically,

(as an aside: quick sand isn’t as much of a problem as scooby doo led me to believe it would be growing up—I also don’t get offered free drugs to say no to so…)

but, I am in my writing. To reitterate: I am not stuck but my writing is. My writting is dramatically stuck in… Limbo? In editing mode. In drafts. In random word documents and journal entries and notes app notes. Point is…my writing has been stuck. All of it. Everything. For a while.

And even writing this is starting to feel like nails on the chalkboard because the other versions I created were so much more neat and tidy—and incomplete—but thats not the point—and even if it was, they, those neat and tidy, and unfinished versions, wouldn’t help me break the habit I am trying to break so here we are. Here we are, back at it again… *sighs* Hi. What’s up. It’s been a minute. Hi.

Anyway…A couple years back I fell into the terrible habit of writing to “sound smart”—which mostly just makes me feel dumb because no matter how pretty it is or how nicely it rolls off my tongue or tickles my brain, it isn’t me.

I mean it is… but it isn’t.

It is… but it takes forever and it’s too polished. It’s too intentioned and it’s not as fun and at this point it’s honestly kind of annoying. So here we are.

There was a time in my life where I could sit down and write pages of content. Poems and plays and novels in november and I loved it. It was freeing and it was fun. It didn’t feel as hard, it didn’t feel like work…It was just, fun. But I already said that so…

Let me try again…

I used to be a good writer. Self proclaimed, most days, but I guess other people liked it too? Which isn’t the point… the point is—I used to be a good writer, not because people liked it, but because I had something to say. Something to get out. I had stories to tell.

And it didn’t always make sense, it was rarely written for the masses but it meant something to me and it saved me from myself more than once. Then somewhere along the way I got stuck. I got tripped up by wanting to sound smart or not say anything controvercial or… be “good enough.” But doing all that killed my voice and ruined my writing.

So here we are! Rambling… with the intention to publish said ramblings and get out of my own way and get out of this funk. Hopefully.

Fact of the matter is this—Sounding smart or at least wanting to sound smart hasn’t gotten me anywhere. It has only held me back in my writing.

So here I am, trying something new, rolling with the stream of concious, not trying to sound smart, or edit too much and at the end I will hit send and then I’ll do this again and again and again. Or try to. Until I fix myself.

Until I can write as me. Until I can stop trying to just “sound smart” and just be smart. Or at the very least be me. Until I can tell my ego to “suck it,” respectfully, of course.

Wish me luck!

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On “Surviving”

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TW: Suicide, depression, abusive parents

The pandemic has sucked for most people; I think we can all agree on that, right? I don’t know a single person who has said, “Yeah, Covid was actually so cool and I’m so glad that it happened!” Sure, the first few months were pretty neat: jobs furloughing, staying home, less crowded public spaces, etc., but a vast majority of people I know have either lost loved ones to Covid, put on unwanted weight, developed serious depression and/or anxiety, or had long-standing relationships fail as a result of the strain the pandemic has put on everyone. It feels like looking back on life pre-Covid is akin to peering into an alternate dimension; things were so similar, but they were also, so, so different. I spent most of the pandemic unemployed and moving from place to place, and I did my fair share of burning bridges over the past three years. But I wanted to share a story with you; not a story about how traumatic life has been, or how hard I was tested, but a story about the one thing that the pandemic didn’t break: hope.

I recently moved to Saskatchewan to live with my wife. I’m currently a stay at home husband while we wait for my permanent residence application to finish processing so that I can get a job. I live in a beautiful home with a beautiful partner and four beautiful cats, which is in very stark contrast to living with my parents and having a toxic/abusive mother constantly test the thickness of the thread I was holding on by. I can play video games as much or as little as I want to; I can cook and eat whatever foods I want to; my wife and I can communicate in a healthy way and stay dedicated to growing our life and our love together; I have a healthy sex life for the first time in 29 years; I quite literally do not have a care in the world right now. By all accounts of my own expectations, I have “made it.” This is everything I could have ever dreamed my life would be. I can go to bed at 3AM, wake up at noon, make myself a coffee, and do whatever I want to do with my. Albeit, my wife and I do most things together when she’s not working, but as an acute care nurse who works 12 hour alternating day and night shifts, I end up having a lot of time to myself. I get to be the crazy cat father and chase our four malevolent gargoyles around the house all day and snuggle with them all night. I am by all accounts, the happiest I have ever been in my life, and I know that my wife and I are committed to keeping these feelings alive together for both of us. But that’s not to say this doesn’t come with a cost.

My wife was previously married, a relationship that ended abruptly in October of 2022 when her late husband lost his battle with depression and took his own life. She and I have been very close friends for over a decade and a half, and I was supposed to be at her first wedding but wasn’t able to make it. Her late husband and I were also good friends because of how close she and I have been the last sixteen years, and losing him has left a hole in the hearts of so many people. I’ve become rather accustomed to losing loved ones though; a large number of people that I knew in high school and college have passed away, so grief is something I’ve unfortunately become very used to. I spent countless hours talking with my wife in the immediate aftermath of her late husband’s passing. Fast forward 8 months and we decided that we were going to get married. Skip another month and we applied for spousal sponsorship for me to live here. Now we’re almost five months into my stay here, and everything has been so egregiously lovely and beautiful, save for one role that I feel like I need to fill. We all have roles that we play in life; we’re all a daughter, son, sister, brother, father, mother, friend, etc., and I’m obviously no exception. I’ve been a son to my parents for 29 years, and a brother to my siblings for just as long. I know it’s my own brain creating this illusion, but I feel like I’m not having to step into the role of “replacement husband.” I’m coming into the life of my wife’s late husband’s friends and family in a position where I feel like I’m expected to be a replacement for him. Nobody has ever expressed this to me, and I know these are weights that I need to put down, but I can’t seem to let go the notion that I have to be a son to his parents, or be the same friend that was to his friends. Survivor’s guilt seems like a tacky way to put it, but it’s hard not to feel that way when most of the friends and family that my wife has introduced me to were at least acquainted with her late husband. I just want to be me, and I just want my brain to be content with where we are, because it’s the happiest place I’ve ever been. Even as I’m writing this now, I’m having text conversations with some of my wife’s friends; they have been nothing but welcoming to me as a new part of her life, and as such, a new part of their lives as well. I just need to convince my brain that everything is okay, and that any pressure I feel is entirely self-inflicted.

In not so many words, I still have a lot of work to do. I need to find a way to reconcile the person that I am, with the person that my brain expects me to be given the position I’m in. I still need to go to the gym to stay healthy. I still need to practice mediation to keep myself calm. I still need to find a job when the time comes. I don’t say all this seeking pity from an internet full of strangers, and I don’t say any of this to pit myself for the position I’m in. I’m sharing this little bit of my story with anyone who might need to hear this: nobody truly has it all figured out. I’m someone who has “has it made” as people say. I have no “adult responsibilities” that concern money or jobs or anything like that; but I still need to hold myself accountable for the things that I owe other people. I owe my wife a life full of love, peace, calm, and safety, because that was robbed from her last time; I owe her late husband’s friends and family an honest attempt to be a part of their life, because they want to see her happy as much as I do, and we’re much more likely to achieve that goal together; I owe myself a mental break after surviving the worst three years of my life back to back to back; I owe the friends I’ve lost a life worth living. I carry them with me as a reminder to work hard on the important things, and to spread love wherever I go. If all I have left of them is memories, then I’ll spend my life creating memories for myself and everyone around me.

I’ve more or less turned this into a stream of consciousness of some sort, but I will attempt to wrap the things I’ve learned over the last three years up. Never stop growing; there are always improvements to be made on who we are as people. There will always be “something more” that we can do in some regard, an it’s increasingly important that we continue to recognize that sometimes “something more” can mean “resting.”

JustRachel

On being okay with not knowing what the future holds

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I have never been good at thinking beyond the concept of what I thought my future could look like. This is funny to me, considering the fact that I have created worlds and built lives for dozens of characters through my short-form and long-form writing, yet I struggle to dream or envision what I want for myself.

Maybe you relate to this. Not the world-building but the struggle to imagine what the future can or will look like. Maybe you, like me, dreamed of your future in blurry blobs and bubbles. Maybe you had a clearer picture, knowing the kind of things you wanted, but not all the minute details. Maybe you walked through life feeling like you were looking at pictures in a photo album that was always out of focus and constantly changing.

Maybe you, like me, have thought of things as milestones instead of steps.

  • Go to school
  • Get the job
  • Find a Partner
  • Get married and get a house
  • Have some kids
  • etc. etc.

and so on and so on. Lacking the ability to fully manifest and fulfil those dreams. But, then again, maybe you haven’t – but I suppose that’s why this is my blog and why I can only speak to my own experiences.

Everything feels so much bigger when you are small – but sometimes I wonder if I’ve grown out of that yet

Growing up, and even now, I struggle to know how I want to get to the things listed above. And sometimes I struggle with wondering if those are still the things I want – or if they are just the things I thought I had to do to have a ‘good‘ life. A life like my parents or like my peers.

I used to think it was the depression, or the grief that was holding me back from being able to dream about the future but now I wonder if this is just a normal part of growing up. I wonder if I struggle, not because I needed someone to tell me the steps or because I didn’t have access to figure it out, but because, on some level, I assumed it would all fall into place by now.

And I never felt like I was owed any of it but I did live thinking that if I follow the rules, do the ‘right’ stuff, be kind to others and live truthfully and intentionally that life would all just naturally fall into place.

And to be clear – I am by no means saying life hasn’t happened the way it should or that I am dissatisfied with where I am at. I am merely saying that I am still trying to find more focused visions of what my future can and will look like and how I am supposed to get there.

“It’s okay if your future still isn’t clear, no one said it had to be” – me to me

I have never been good at thinking beyond the concept of what I thought my future could look like. I never really imagined my wedding or decorated my future homes. And sure never is a strong word because sure I had Pinterest boards, and I imagined facades of homes with long driveways and played MASH, but for me, it was always easier to build out someone else’s future in a story than it was to imagine my own.

Thinking back now, maybe this was because the idea of growing up was daunting, (I mean isn’t it for everyone?) maybe it was because I didn’t think I’d make it this far, or maybe it was because my brain works in all or nothings but every day now I live in the future I imagined then and while it is nothing like what I imagined it to be yet, I realize now that it was never really supposed to be.

So as I look to my future, that I suppose I am getting more comfortable planning, I will tell myself this: It’s not okay to give up on yourself, it’s not okay to think you’ve fallen short and it’s certainly not okay to say that a previous version of you wouldn’t be amazed of who you are. But most importantly, it’s not okay to think that life is just a check-list — because some of the best things in life don’t come when we follow a plan.

So it’s okay to ‘arrive’ late, it’s okay to not arrive at all, it’s okay to want certain things now, and it’s okay to change what you want (constantly and without explanation). It’s okay to acknowledge that the future is blurry (and to always have to use spell check when you type out acknowledge). It’s okay to be where you are at because who you are is someone very few people saw coming.

So here’s to being okay with not always knowing what the future holds and to hoping that it allows me more time to breathe life into the things I love.

JustRachel

Feeling vs. Being: the meaning of ‘unqualified’

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Last week, while walking through Target (as one does), a young mom complimented my hoodie; any other day that wouldn’t have inspired a blog post, but the reason this time did – that hoodie read “Awkward N’ Adulting.”

Look, I’ve been doing this thing for a while; we might even be coming up close to 5 years now, but of all the years I have been doing this, I think some of my best work came in the early days. The days when I cared less about sounding smart, or profound, or in the loop – and more about sounding like what I was and frankly what I still am – someone who is just trying to figure herself and this world out.

When I started this blog my goal was to focus on topics that would help people like me feel less alone in their “Adulting” experiences. I wanted to tackle the topics that made growing up feel awkward and uncomfortable and even disingenuous at times. And for a while that is exactly what my team and I did. Anyway, years passed things changed, it’s just me now blah blah blah, which brings us to now. [Insert explanation on how the topics I’ve been trying to tackle lately (while relevant) are too big swingy for the post turn around times I’d like to maintain.] Anyway, anyway, long story short – I want to get back to my roots. I want to stop trying to dissect big issues and focus on what’s really important – the little stuff. So let’s talk about some little stuff – let’s talk about the pressure to be qualified and the stress that comes with feeling unqualified.

The starting line

Sometimes it feels like the pressure I feel so heavily now, started when it was time for me to enter (and stay entered in) the workforce, but that’s a lie.

Truth is (at least the way I see it), my ability to build my credentials started long before I was made to sit down and jot them down on a piece of paper or a LinkedIn account. And while I could take that sentiment and run with it as a statement on privilege and the expectations people are born into I’d rather keep it a bit lighter by starting in school.

The early times we have to qualify

Even in our earliest years of schooling we are required to meet some sort of criteria to qualify to attend. Parents of kindergarteners and pre-kers are expected to equip their kids with certain skills or lessons to grant their children the access to learn more. Then slowly but surely, the responsibility shifts to us and with each new year we, as students must carry on that torch by passing a series of tests (written and otherwise) to continue to progress. It isn’t until we reach a certain age that we realize how much we had to do or how much we had to overcome to merely exist (without disproportionate resistance) in certain sectors of society. [and keep in mind some people have to learn this much earlier than others based on who they are or what “limitations” they have when compared to the more “accepted standard” of society]

Then, seemingly before we know it, those of us who are lucky enough to keep moving and progressing without too much resistance, age into more opportunities. Opportunities like being able to work and drive and vote and fight; and despite the fact that we either feel or are completely unqualified to take on these roles, we do. This then continues the cycle by allowing us the freedom to learn more things and do more things and it gives us the confidence to chase more difficult opportunities and develop relationships etc. etc. and so on.

Until we apply for something like college, or a non entry level job…

Maybe it’s more about the shift in resistance?

I know I have been using a handful of generalizations thus far, but to be clear, I obviously can’t speak for everyone. So I’ll shift to my own experience.

In my own experience, stress becomes more common when I have something to lose or if something is out of my control. In other words, life becomes a bit trickier when I have planned my next move, but it feels like someone else gets to decide if that step forward is one I am allowed to take. This happened when being accepted to college, to an athletic team, getting a job, and often time it also applied to relationships as well.

Now, to be fair, that stress doesn’t actually come from me being unqualified to get the job or date the person or place in the competition. That kind of stress came and continues to come from not being used to the resistance that comes with being able to progress to the next level.

Maybe it’s about believing I am not enough?

When I first started applying for jobs I was so terrified. I was scared that I wasn’t good enough or worthy of the opportunity. Because of this I often took the first offer I was given. In most cases the employer wasn’t intentionally taking advantage of the situation but I was definitely underwriting my own worth and what values I brought to the situation. In half of those situations my inability to realize my own self worth lead me to making the wrong decision.

Luckily my ability to value myself in the workplace has gotten easier as I have gained confidence and experience. And I suppose this is natural progression I was meant to take on in life, but that doesn’t mean I don’t wish it had come with much less pressure to feel qualified or to live up to extreme expectations. So I guess looking back I wish I had told myself I was enough more, but then again I suppose that’s the power of retrospect.

Maybe it’s about being compatible?

In my own experience, not getting a job or losing a job or getting ghosted has felt a lot like not being enough, but getting stuck in that way of thinking neglects another variable, compatibility.

In my early years, and I think this might be a similar experience for a few of us, but, in my early years there wasn’t much of an issue with compatibility. I mean school wasn’t easy with a learning disability, but it wasn’t impossible given the support systems I was lucky enough to have. Not to mention when it comes to schooling, especially certain schools, there is a lot lower bar when it comes to being accepted. [Not from a social standpoint obviously but from the perspective that access to some level of schooling is somewhat accessible to a wide variety of individuals.]

And thinking about it, maybe this was intentional. For me and for a handful of others who experienced life in a similar way. Maybe, given the proper tools, some of us are allowed to progress through a path of minimal or medium resistance in our early years allowing us to gather more confidence in tackling bigger challenges. And this is not to say that adjusting to those new challenges was any easier, but at least I was given the confidence to lunge toward those things. But then again maybe having less resistance early on, while a great boost to confidence, also made it more difficult to adjust to the larger expectations and requirements that come with an increased demand of compatibility and an increased level of resistance.

So maybe I am lucky to look back at a time that felt challenging in the moment and now feel able to take chances, even if they are not given or even if I am not compatable with them. But maybe I am also allowed to acknowledge that being lucky to have that perspective doesn’t negate the fact that I also feel stressed or inferior or “unqualified.” Maybe I am able to acknowledge how many advantages I have while also feeling the things and all the discomfort that comes with the current situation.

Maybe feeling and being don’t have to be mutually exclusive?

In my life I have grown and learned and felt. In my life I have had moments where my confidence in my abilities was overwritten by one person’s opinion or a mere lack of compatibility in a certain situation but I have also had moments where I felt like the credit I was receiving was more than I deserved. In other words, I have been given opportunities and I have missed out on them, and I suppose that is the way life goes. But of all the ways life is supposed to go, one thing I have struggled with more than most others is (particularly in opportunity based situations) separating my feelings from some of the truth’s of a given situation. And I want to do better at that.

So, I guess what I am trying to say is that there are a lot of things in this society that have and continue to require us to qualify. And I suppose the point I am trying to make is that while I am not always as qualified as I would like to think, I am also not nearly as unqualified as I often feel myself to be. And maybe you or someone you know can relate to that too.

But, at the end of the day, I guess this is all to say that life is complicated. That I and we may have times where we feel like imposters or like we are not good enough. Hell, we may have times when people even tell us as much. But I guess something I am trying to learn as I grow is that just because I don’t feel like I am something right now, or just because I believe I am not what I have been time tested and trained to be, doesn’t mean it’s true. And maybe the same can be said for you.

The meaning of ‘unqualified’

Maybe none of us feel qualified for anything and everything we do, maybe the ones who think they are, actually aren’t. Maybe none of us actually have a clue – but hey, maybe that’s the point. Maybe that’s just part of being awkward and Adulting.

JustRachel

3 reasons to not compare yourself to others, or to an older version of yourself

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With the exclusion of what I like to call “womb-mates” (twins, triplets, etc.), who may or may not bear an uncanny resemblance to you, there is no one on, above, or under this planet that is exactly like you in any way. The experiences you have, the privileges or struggles you are born into, the way your hair falls – every aspect is unique. So why are we constantly comparing ourselves to others? And keep in mind that “others” could also refer to yourself because I don’t know about you, but I am just as guilty of comparing me to past me as I am to someone who certainly is not me.

3 reasons to not…

(1) The version of you that fit in “those jeans” wouldn’t fit into the life you have built for yourself: I saw this picture the other day that said,

“those extra 5-10 pounds, that place where your body naturally wants to be – that’s your life. That’s your late night pizza with your man, that Sunday morning bottomless brunch, your favorite cupcake in the whole entire world because you want to treat yourself. Those 5-10 pounds are your favorite memories, your unforgettable trips, your celebrations of life. Those extra 5-10 pounds are your spontaneity, your freedom, your love.”

anyway, it really resonated with me, not just because I love brunch but because some of the “extra” pounds I wear are due to meals I love or medications I need; and for a while I let it get to me but it’s far more worth it to be healthy than it is to fit any kind of aesthetic.

(2) Wishing you could “be someone else” (in the moment they are in) solely based on the parts of them that you can see, minimizes their experiences and gives you an excuse to fall short of the best version of yourself. Almost every single time I look at someone else and say, “I want that” – it comes with a reason why I can’t. And the reason why I can’t is almost never rationalized as an “I can’t right now” but an “I’m not them so I can’t ever.” So for example – I’ll find myself scrolling through Instagram and falling on an influencers page and thinking “I want to travel the world, but I can’t because I don’t have the time or the money.” And the truth of that is that it wouldn’t be impossible for me to do it but I am choosing not to because I don’t want to save the money or take the risk of leaving my job blah blah blah. My thinking this way completely minimizes whatever effort that person put in to living that life but worse than that it gives me an out on why I don’t have to work for it because I just want it right now.

(3) The rules have changed: The world we have inherited from the generation before us is not the same as the world they grew up in and neither is the economy. At this point, the playbook they keep telling us to follow is for an entirely different game and the more we try to follow it, the more we will disappoint ourselves for not getting the results we were conditioned to want. Maybe what we need is less coaching and more giving ourselves some grace.

The takeaway

Throughout my journey into and through adulthood, I have had to do a lot of unlearning. Whether it be toxic ideologies from society or my own expectations of where I should or should have been by x age – things in my life and especially in my 20’s just lead me to this path of constantly comparing myself to others rather than noting and appreciating where I am at.

In other words, when it comes to comparing myself to others or to previous versions of myself I am as guilty as the next person; and while I definitely doubt I will stop doing it after writing this, I did want to take some time today to mark down some reminders of why continuing to do this isn’t actually benefiting me, and why it probably isn’t helping you either.

So after reading this maybe you feel like you can relate, or maybe you feel like you can’t but either way I hope you can give yourself some grace.

JustRachel

Writing for spin over substance: how powerful people manipulate the art of interpretation

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One of my favorite things about having studied art and literature is how often and how much we were encouraged to develop our own interpretations of what is laid out in front of us.

I mean, think about it, in a world where so many ideas are meant to be seen as concrete (or black and white), where history (no matter how skewed in favor of the victor) is not to be questioned (or “changed”), where math is often to be solved in a particular way, and where science is to be structured and methodical for the sake of safety or accuracy – art and language are the first areas where we as people and as students are not asked to recite information but rather to reflect on it.

In school, time spent reflecting was often my favorite time spent. Poetry allowed someone like me, someone with an overactive mind, to relish in the multiple trains of thought that could be pulled from a single line. And in college, I found comfort in surrounding myself with people who enjoyed doing the same.

As an adult, however, I’m not sure I still hold the same fondness for interpretation as I once did. Part of this is because, outside of novels, poetry, and literature the loudest voices are often the ones who speak for attention rather than speaking with intention. Part of this is because the same people who wrote off writing as just a “required credit” class are now in charge of sharing vast amounts of information and can’t seem to do so in a clear, concise, or even logical way. But mostly I think it’s just because a lot of voices lack real creativity – which is just to say that we get the same rehearsed rhetoric (the same full stop labels) over and over and over again without a consideration of whether it actually applies to the topic being discussed.

That said, this week I read a take (one that was thankfully not political) that made me roll my eyes. It read (paraphrased), “employees don’t leave bad companies – they leave bad managers.” And truthfully (and probably obviously since it inspired a blog) the quote boiled my blood a bit – and let me tell you why…

Let’s stop pretending managers are the problem

According to some light research – the original phrase (that inspired the one I found as well as dozens of other articles) was, “Employees don’t leave companies – they leave managers.” [Marcus Buckingham, First, Break All the Rules: What the World’s Greatest Managers Do Differently] and it first appeared in Marcus Buckingham’s: First, Break All the Rules: What the World’s Greatest Managers Do Differently, in 1998. And while I have no doubt that one company or another didn’t try to use that excuse before Mr. Buckingham put it in a book, his study of more than 80,000 managers gives it (his book) a fair amount of credibility. However, the fact that this idea is still being used today, more than 20 years later, has proven to me that bad managers aren’t the problem – the companies are.

Accountability would never

Have you ever heard that saying… the one about the head of the snake? “Cut the head off the snake and the body dies.” Usually it’s used to explain war scenarios – suggesting that taking out the head of an army will stop the rest. A similar idea exists in the advice crime show cops give to criminals about to go to prison – they say to find the biggest guy in the yard and take him down because no one will mess with you after that. Then of course there’s the less violent ideas. The ones about top down leadership and how older siblings should set a good example for the younger ones. And at this point I know what you might be thinking, all of these examples seek to prove the importance of managerial leadership, right? And sure, in a way they do but let me ask you something – what do a general, a criminal, a manager (boss), and an older sibling have in common?

Got it?

Accountability from the bottom up

Now, don’t get me wrong, a bad manager can certainly make or break a job. Even sources outside of business support the idea that good leadership makes a good team and success and so on and so forth. Great teams win super bowls, Ted Lasso (obviously the other kind of football), yada yada. But what all these people have in common is not that they have a team or that they have people working or existing under them — the real thing they have in common is that none of them have a final say in decision making. The real commonality that they all share is that NONE OF THEM HAVE REAL POWER – but they all are held accountable for the ones who do.

The breakdown:
  • Generals might make calls and lend advice but they still have to report and follow the orders of the commander and chief (or whoever has total control of military forces).
  • Prison inmates can assert enough dominance to have power over their peers but they will still be at the mercy of whoever owns or controls the prison system (not just the prison but the system).
  • Managers are also just foot soldiers – whether they report to another manager or the c-suite, no matter what they do or how good they are because they still have to follow the guidance, orders, or examples of the people above them.
  • And eldest siblings? Well until they are old enough to support themselves or become a cog in the bigger machine they report to their parents or guardians. (duh)

History is written by it’s victors – but wars are won by its soldiers

Remember earlier when I was rattling off subjects that are more concrete than art or literature? I talked about how history is not to be questioned even if it’s bias favors the victor. Well, this same sentiment also applies to business and business writing. Business narratives are vastly determined (and recycled) by looking at successful companies and emulating their processes to (hopefully) replicate success in other settings.

In grad school, a large part of my study was looking at case studies that compared various marketing strategies. Many of which talked about how brand recognition (or company recognition) which is arguably one of the most important aspects of the marketing process, drove sales as much as product does. (Nike for example – the quality might not be the best all the time but people recognize the swish and possibly respect you more for it.)

See, unlike art and literature business isn’t to be interpreted on a creative level because unlike art and literature business is communicated more with numbers and data than it is with words or emotions. From a business perspective this way of communicating is great because it gives companies proof that certain processes work and others do not. After all, data drives strategy and strategy drives business, right?

Well…yes, but also… not exactly.

A company is nothing without its workforce

I think the reason it’s easy to make a statement like “Employees don’t leave companies – they leave managers.” Is because of how easy it is to take the human aspect out of business.

I mean, if you think about it, bad managers aren’t all that dissimilar to bad ex’s. When someone is hired or when we bring someone into our lives it isn’t just because they are qualified, it’s because they have something that will add value to us and to the team. And because managers often have to start at a lower level and learn the business to take a more substantial leadership role in it – it’s fair to assume that that “bad manager” is a product of whatever system (in this case – the company) that created them.

In other words it’s just as easy to say, “Employees don’t leave companies – they leave managers.” As it is to say, “It’s not personal, it’s just business;” because in the business world words matter less than numbers do. So it’s easy to look at a lull in profits,target a low performing team, and blame one person “in charge” rather than admit that, “Hey this keeps happening. It used to feel random but this person has been here for a while so maybe it’s the values we are promoting in our company. Maybe it’s the conditions that the company creates for its workforce. Maybe we should consider that something we did went wrong to make them lead this way.”

Trading in spin for substance

At the end of the day, there is a place for interpretation in all aspects of life, even business and history – but I think we need to be more careful with who we allow to write the story.

The United States isn’t the only country that allows the few to try and manipulate and dictate the identities of the many. The United States isn’t the only country that often favors spin over substance; but seeing that the US is the country I live in, it’s arguably the only one I am qualified to speak of.

Anyway, if it wasn’t already made clear, I personally don’t subscribe to the idea that employees leave managers rather than companies. Maybe this is because I have had very few bad managers, but more so I think it is because (speaking from my perspective as someone in my generation) there has been a paradigm shift in this country when it comes to accountability. For me it is less important who I work under and more who or what I work for.

So sure, a good manager is important to me, but what I hold most important is that we stop blaming one or two bad people for a system we are all existing under and feeding in to.

JustRachel

On hibernation

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When hibernating, an animal’s metabolism slows significantly: its heartbeat slows, it breathes more slowly (some animals even stop breathing for periods of over an hour) and its body temperature drops—in some extreme cases to below the freezing point of water (zero degrees Celsius).

– Australian Academy of Science

It took me a considerable amount of time in this life to learn what hibernation actually was. Growing up I always assumed animals just gathered a bunch of food (as much as they could), gained a bunch of weight, and slept through the winter months. In retrospect, however, the reality of what hibernation is – well it makes much more sense.

During hibernation, an animal’s slowed metabolism allows them to conserve energy. It allows them to require less food less often – but despite the conditions that allow or require animals to do this I used to assume (incorrectly) that this meant they just slept it out through the whole winter – in reality, while these creatures are at rest or in a state of pause, they do still wake up from time to time. #Relatable

“A body at rest…”

During the winter months, I often joke about my “hibernation body” making light of a slight and natural weight gain that occurs around the winter holidays. But upon brainstorming what to post about today, I realized my experience with hibernation goes deeper than that joke.

Growing up I always saw myself as a “winter person” because being born during a snowstorm qualified me as such. And, don’t get me wrong, there are quite a few aspects of winter that I do still love. I love warm relaxed clothes, warm drinks, and lots of snow (even if I don’t get snow days anymore). But as I have grown I have also realized that, when there is an absence of the things I love about winter – I tend to enjoy it quite a bit less. For example, I really don’t like when it is 32 degrees or less and there isn’t snow on the ground. (I like beauty with my bone-chilling pain). And similar to that, I have noticed that the shorter days and the chilling cold can sometimes make it harder to manage the ever evolving complexities of my mental health. And to be clear, I am not a fan of that either.

Now depending on where you live this may not apply to you, but where I live this winter has been particularly wonky. Some weeks have been horribly cold, some have been unseasonably warm, and others have brought buckets of rain. Of course, this is all a roundabout way to say that this winter, being more than wonky than most I remember, has enabled a state of sudo hibernation that until recently, I didn’t realize I was in. And because an object at rest tends to stay at rest – this might make some of my upcoming adventures a bit harder to adapt to at first.

Beyond the “hibernation body”

As I write this I am realizing more and more how similar my life has been to a season of hibernation. And sure I could say how the highs and lows are like periods of being awake and asleep but I think it would be more notable to say that no matter my state, no matter awake or asleep – the season has slowed me much like it would an animal’s metabolism.

That said, lately, I have been moving slower, not to conserve energy but because I have been in between employment and the lack of structure encouraged less and less of a structured format to my day. Naturally, I have since adapted to this way of life. And naturally, I did so less than a week before I am set to start my new job. As an aside it’s funny how we argue about what came first, the chicken or the egg – rather than asleep or awake because for me it sometimes feels like both are true.

Now, to clarify, while I have been moving slower it doesn’t mean I have stopped taking care of myself. Unlike a bear in a cave, I have been spending a fair amount of time in the home gym and despite not having a set structure to my day I have found ways to create patterns in the monotony. But outside of the physical activity, beyond working on the “hibernation body” life feels passive. I find myself waking up, working out, eating something, watching something, writing something, eating something, watching something and going to bed. This is to say that I feel myself living to eat and sleep. This is to say that I feel myself waking up only to count down the hours before I can go to sleep again – and while that is often the criteria for depression, right now I’m not feeling depressed as much as I feel like life lacks purpose. And maybe work will change that or maybe it won’t but right now it just feels like I am hibernating through my life and as fun as it can be for a little while – the fun of it wears off rather quickly when you feel like you’re stuck inside to avoid the cold (and the unnecessary Target receipts).

The end (of hibernation) is near

As I look forward to work starting next week and to the air getting warmer in the coming months I know that my period of hibernation must come to an end. Soon I will be out, about, and not freezing, but seeing that I am still in this hibernation I wanted to take some time today to be aware of where I am. To spend some of these brief waking moments on reflection.

At the end of the day, it is important to give ourselves some time to rest (without being guilty); and in my opinion, hibernation isn’t a terrible way to do that. But it’s also important (for me at least) to keep track of where we are, know the name of cave we are in, and most importantly, know that there’s a time and way to leave it.

For me, the most important aspect of my winter hibernation is accepting it as it comes. Maybe you relate to this, maybe you don’t but my point of it all is to say – it’s okay. It’s ok to give ourselves permission to be where we are. Permission to be slow, and to rest. So if it wasn’t clear in the last few lines – this is me giving myself permission to rest – and if you need the same consider this your permission slip too.

JustRachel

It’s NOT Another New Year’s Resolution

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I am going to start this post by saying, I don’t believe in New Year’s resolutions. Why? Because New Year’s Resolutions are, more often than not, goals that we could have made and started and failed 6 months ago. I know this because I have spent the past 6 months making, starting, adapting, and yes, failing various goals.

In my opinion New Year’s Resolutions are nothing more than a annual fad and a societal construct that clogs gyms in the first few weeks of January. They are things we “want” or have “wanted” for who knows how long but if we take a minute to sit down and be honest with ourselves, then we just have to admit the truth. And that truth, in its simplest terms, is this – “If I wanted to, I would.” Despite the date, despite the time, and despite the fact that it feels like everyone else is doing it with me, “If I wanted to, I would.”

If I… you know the rest

I struggle with this a lot. Not New Year’s Resolutions of course because, as I said, I don’t believe in them. No, what I struggle with is that phrase, the honest one – the one that reminds me, “If you wanted to, you would.” If I wanted to be in a relationship, I would. If I wanted to read that book, I would. If I wanted to write a book, a blog post, or even a grocery list, I would. If I actually wanted to be “that person,” I would. But the truth of the matter is that I don’t know what I want, not anymore, not really – because everything I used to want, everything I thought I wanted, everything I expected myself to be at this time and at this age, it doesn’t fit anymore. And yeah that is terrifying, but it’s better than the lies and the excuses.

So yeah, I don’t believe in New Year’s Resolutions. I cannot stress that enough because I don’t believe in giving one day the kind of power to decide my habits for a whole year. And the reason I can’t stress that enough is because what I’m about to share is going to sound a lot like a resolution, but I can promise you – it is not.

So I say it again…

I don’t believe in New Year’s Resolutions – (here comes the but) BUT I do believe in growth. I do believe in making goals no matter the time of year so let’s call this what it is rather than what it is not. A revelation, not a resolution.

I’d like to say…” it wasn’t always like this.”

I can’t say that there was ever a time that I didn’t care what other people thought. At least, not one I can remember. I mean, you don’t get to be like me without caring what people think. You don’t get to be like me without internalizing a lot of things and making a lot of strict rules to follow in order to get by or fit in as if everyone else’s opinion or life is more valuable than yours.

I’d like to say that “it wasn’t always like this” but if I could actually remember a time when it wasn’t then I think it would be a whole heck of a lot easier to cross out the rules I’ve made for myself and be the kind of person I actually want to be. If it wasn’t so normal to me – it would be a lot easier to change. But change isn’t easy, so it’s time to cut the crap and do the darn thing.

Spoiler alert: I learned this in therapy

We haven’t talked about this because I haven’t been around lately, but I started going to therapy again. (We love a queen who takes care of herself.) And around the time I started therapy again, I took a break from writing. Not a full stop kind of break, but one significant enough to stop the trend I had kept up for most of the year. The one where I was posting on here almost every Friday. And if I’m being honest, which I am, the pause also had a lot to do with not being able to focus my thoughts enough to get a clear post out. (This will make sense later but…rule # whatever: if it’s not going to be perfect, or near perfect, or even just good enough to get by – don’t bother.) So, in short, there was too much happening in the world and in my head and since I wasn’t an expert on either or anything – well I thought it best to take a break, so I did.

I wanted to, so I did.

Anyway, my posting again doesn’t mean I have it all figured out. In a lot of ways, the opposite is true. I have less figured out today than I did three months ago. So what changed? What is different? Well, other than the number at the end of the year and the unfortunate fact that it is January, what’s different is the message/lesson that my therapist gave me the other day. This lesson? “You make the rules for your life, so if you want to change the rules – you are allowed to. You’re allowed to re-write the rules because you make your own rules.” Because apparently, it is “that easy.”

New rule: “You Make the Rules”

When it comes to my life, I make the rules… Isn’t that a novel idea? I mean it seems so obvious, and to many people, it probably is — but for me, it hasn’t been. It hasn’t been something allowed myself to do, for one reason or another, so her saying it, well, let’s just say that something in my thick brain finally clicked.

I make the rules…I make the rules about my life. I make the rules… and because I do, I won’t call it a resolution. In fact, I can’t call it a resolution. I really can’t – because for me, taking on this challenge, this project, and these rewrites are hard enough without the statistics being against me. So I won’t call it a resolution because that is not what this is. (But it certainly is something isn’t it?)

So what is it?

What it is, is a revelation, it’s an undertaking, it’s a new and undeniable truth. One that (I’ll say it again) may seem very obvious to others, but it wasn’t something I allowed myself to believe. But now I do – and no, that doesn’t mean I am magically cured or that I’m suddenly going to be the individual I’ve always dreamed of being overnight because that’s not how this works. But what it does mean I can start working toward being that person. It means I can try. And yes, that’s kind of terrifying but it’s also progress.

So despite what this may seem like, despite the date, the time, and the new number at the end of the year this is not a resolution, it’s just me. It’s me being a work in progress, and at present, it’s an “I wanted to, so I did” in progress. And yes, it is new and it is terrifying – but I also can’t wait to see where this part of my story leads.

JustRachel

In honor of the one we lost

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In my life I’ve been privileged enough to know the feeling of true community. To know what it is like to be cared for, to be loved, to be accepted, respected, and valued and all of these things are thanks to the people I met at Merrimack College.

Growing up I was part of a couple different communities. I was fairly involved so I had school, I had family, I had faith, and I had sports. And while some of those intersected, none were the same as the one before or the one to follow. And over time I learned which communities were real, and which ones were forced. I learned who to lean on, and who to keep distance from – though I am still working on the latter.

But of all the things I did and all the people I was, I don’t think my life really started until after I turned 18. Until after I went away and found a different kind of home and a different kind of community.

We laugh so we don’t cry

I think the funniest thing about my experiences on college campuses, both before and after I enrolled in one, was that, for the first time in my life, all those speeches about community and supporting each other weren’t just talk anymore. And I say it’s funny because while I hoped that would be the case, I didn’t allow myself to truly accept it until it happened. But, lucky for me, it happened almost immediately.

Now I know a lot of people that will speak of their college experience this way. They’ll talk about the institution that raised them, they’ll note how it was both perfect and imperfect and they’ll smile as they recall nights in the quad or the caf. They’ll claim that those were some of the best moments of their lives and the truth is, for them, they probably were. And I’m not here to discount that experience because I’m not really here to talk about college or institutions or compete on who had it best. What I am here to do, is talk about one person – Kevin.

About Kevin

If I’m being honest, and I usually am, I don’t remember the first time I met Kevin Salemme, and honestly I don’t remember the last time I saw him either. In fact, as close as I was to Kevin, I didn’t even know he was sick until recently, but I suppose that’s how life goes. We get distracted in our own things. We weather pandemics and heartbreaks and god knows what else. And at times we take peoples presence for granted because in our minds, some people are so much larger than life that the notion of anything happening to them between visits is inconceivable.

So what do we do when the inconceivable happens?

(That question of course is a rhetorical one but it also provides a proper page break for a little but possibly relatable tangent)

If it wasn’t hard it wouldn’t be worth it

As we grow up we all experience our share of losses, but as someone who lost a lot more than she was “supposed to” at an age far before she was “supposed to” one of my largest pet peeves is the vultures. You know, the people who interject opinions on people they barely knew, the ones who claim to be so distraught over the loss of someone when that someone is so massively insignificant to their lives. The people that do it for attention because heaven forbid someone else be able to experience their pain in a supportive and validated way. And my point of saying this isn’t what you might think because usually when someone says they can sniff out phony grief they have a name or a direction or finger to point, but when it comes to this, the point is that I don’t. Because when it comes to this there isn’t a single person that I know who wasn’t positively and undoubtably affected by Kevin Salemme. Which is easily the greatest testament to who he was because he didn’t have phony relationships with any of us and because even if he had wanted to, it wasn’t his way.

When WE lose someone

This week, my community suffered a loss. It wasn’t the first, it won’t be the last but for more than a handful of us it is and will be one of the hardest.

When it comes to loss and the effect some people have on our lives there’s a lot of cheesy rhetoric around how much impact certain people had on us. So when they die we become these like hallmark versions of ourselves and we develop these long winded and emotional monologues where we quote wicked songs and it always ends with something along the lines of “I wouldn’t be the person I am today without having them in my life” and look, I get it, I’m not one to tell you you’re wrong, because I have 100% done that and I 100% feel that this week, but to honor someone like Kevin properly, well I don’t yet know how to put that into words. And that’s okay.

But of all the things I don’t know and of all the answers I wish I had, I do know one thing and that thing is that I am grateful. I am grateful for my community, I’m grateful for my friends, I’m grateful to not shoulder any grief alone, and I’m grateful for Kevin – because, let’s be honest, I (and WE) will never receive those kind of quality – pimple and hair whisp free kind of headshots again. And because, let’s be honest, there probably won’t be someone exactly like him ever again.

So here’s to Kevin – the man, the myth, the legend. And here’s to the hope that we may one day meet again.

JustRachel

On Slippery Slopes

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The other day while getting drinks with a friend of mine, I told him that sex and the city taught me how to properly talk to men in a seductive way. (I didn’t elaborate then on details and I will not be elaborating now.) And embarrassingly, this was not a lie. But it and the conversation did open my mind up the already interesting conversation I was having with myself surrounding honesty and online communication in a way that I didn’t expect. Allow me to explain…

Lying is wrong

Look, it’s no secret that people lie online. Despite honesty being the best policy and probably one of the very first rules our parents teach us — aside from the obvious ones like, “the dog isn’t supposed to drink out of the toilet and neither are you.” [to be clear: this is not a lesson I had to learn but I have no doubt that kids do the darndest things.] The fact of the matter is that lying seems to come more naturally, in some cases, than telling the truth does because we want to be liked, we want to be loved, we want to be listened to, and most importantly, and in a workplace (which has turned into an online and remote community) in particular, we want to stay employed.

Now before you get on my back no this is not going to take some serious or dramatic drama filled twist about me making bold faced lies to my employer, but something that has been weighing on me is how, when I started this job, I said I was willing to relocate, but when I say that now… it comes with a lot more personal risk and would require quite a few benefits that would have to compensate for living in a place like that.

Lying is (always?) wrong

See I never thought I’d be comparing my professional life to my online dating profile, but unlike most people I know – my dating profile might be a bit more upfront and honest than I can and that I am willing to be in the workplace. For example, online I can be an open book and I can talk about anything – but at work, I can’t talk about quite a few aspects of my personal life and while that’s fair and that’s a choice I make, when it comes to the prospect of living where I work rather than working where I live now, my personal life and the qualities of my personality that I put above most also happen to be the very reasons that I wouldn’t want to relocate to a place where I can’t be my authentic self.

And worse than that, I can’t, after saying that I was interested in relocating for work, suddenly say…. Oh, well, I changed my mind because … ? Because I am queer. Liberal. And female and because I want bodily autonomy. And oh your state is a hostile place for all of those things… And before you tell me “but Rachel, you can do that, you can make that choice” I say – No! I could never say that. Because no one in their right mind would say those things to an employer that works in the state that mine does. Or to any employer for that matter because that would be crazy. And so, logically, but despite my values, I keep my mouth shut. (And yes I realize the sentence structure in this paragraph just took a turn toward absolute trash.)

Lying is always wrong, but omission is a grey area. (right?)

Ok so sure this is a true statement, obviously lying is wrong because, like I said it’s one of the first things our parents teach us as children. But as an adult, sometimes telling lies, or omitting truths can be a way to protect ourselves from very real and dangerous situations. But that’s also why I consider it a slippery slope.

See a little over a month from now I’m going to be taking a trip south to meet my bosses for the first time in person and while I’d love to tell them that that’s the first step to me moving there – I really can’t say that. I can’t tell my bosses that I want to be there because it is only a half truth. And also can’t tell them that I don’t feel safe in their state because that could jeopardize my standing with the firm, so what can I do? What should I do? Do I do like I used to and sex and the city the situation? Meaning, do I tell people what they want to hear at my own expense? Do I tell the truth and face the potentially obvious consequences? Or do I find a middle ground and speak in half truths, only to have to make excuses about why I can’t follow though? None of those sound like good options, so what would you do?

See when it comes to this stuff, you might be able to imagine why it weighs on me. Or you might not. But as an honest person I don’t like having to choose between a paycheck and who I am, and right now that choice is just a risk I’m not willing to take. Even if it could go in my favor. So I guess what I am saying is that I’ve already made my choice, and fan of it or not, slippery slope or not, it’s just one I have to live with.

And maybe you can relate.