Losing my job

Losing my job shook me in ways I never imagined. The first days were heavy, grief in my chest, my body tired, my spirit quiet. I hit a low I didn’t see coming. Even my body asked me to slow down. I rested. I cried. I healed. And somewhere between the tears and the deep breaths, I remembered who I am. I am not my setback. I am not my worst day. I am resilience wrapped in softness. I was at the bottom. But now. I am climbing back up.

I got fired...

got fired from my job, and it broke something in me. I have never been fired for being incompetent. Never for not being able to do the job. But even before it happened, I was already walking around feeling like a dumbass, like I wasn’t good enough, like maybe everyone else could see something in me that I couldn’t fix. And then I got sick. Wrong prescription. Two days of throwing up. Yellow bile coming out of me. A little blood sometimes. That scared me. I was weak, shaking, stuck in bed. And while I’m there sick, alone, exhausted, it’s like life just says, “Oh, don’t forget, no paycheck next week, you’re fired.” I was already down. Then my body gave out too. I was supposed to go to a vision board workshop this morning. A room full of hope and magazines and future plans. But I couldn’t even get out of bed. I didn’t have it in me. Later I see the pictures posted of everyone smiling, creating, dreaming. And I’m just… here. Then someone posted lyrics from a song: “I’m not the things my family did. I’m not the voices in my head. I am not the pieces of brokenness inside. I am not the mistakes that I made or the things that caused me pain. I am not the pieces of the dreams I left behind.” And all I could think was that I feel like I am those things. I feel like I am the mistakes. I am the broken pieces. I am the dreams I didn’t finish. When I feel like this, I shut down. I usually call my sisters. But lately I don’t. Because what I just feel like I’m just a burden. My mom calls. But I can’t tell her the truth. I can’t handle the interrogation. I can’t handle the life lessons when I’m barely holding myself together. And I guess what I’m really trying to say is this: sometimes it feels like we are completely alone. Like nobody is coming to save you. Like even if you scream, there’s no one there to really hear you.

roller coaster

February 1, 2026 Today felt like a roller coaster, emotionally and physically. The morning started on a good note — I had energy. I did laundry, organized a bit, cleaned the living room, and even put wallpaper on the wall. For a moment, it felt good to feel productive, like I was moving forward. But then my body reminded me that it has limits. At the laundromat, while folding clothes and bending over, my legs started hurting badly — especially the left one. It felt like nerve pain running down the back of my legs, and by the time I was done, the motivation I had earlier was gone. I wanted to clean the bathroom, but my body just wouldn’t cooperate. Emotionally, I’m all over the place. Sometimes I feel okay, even happy. Other times I feel heavy, confused, and just tired of everything. Not in a dramatic way — just in a “I wish things were easier” kind of way. I don’t fully understand what I’m feeling right now, and that uncertainty is uncomfortable. There were good moments today. I had fun with my stepson. We colored together, laughed, and that mattered. I’m grateful for those moments. I’m having some wine tonight, trying to relax, trying to sit with myself instead of running from my thoughts. Right now, I’m sitting at my desk, talking this out, and feeling confused — but also aware. I don’t have clarity tonight, and that’s okay. Today wasn’t all good or all bad. It was just human. For now, that’s enough.