Color Crossroad

It's been a tough few weeks at work. August close was very busy. It included a bunch of journal entries I had to book for a project I'm working on. A project to help future accounting better. A project I started in November. A project I want to finish before I leave. I got to breaking point with everything. Nothing asked of me was unreasonable. It was the combination of everything that I couldn't handle. Then, something random became the straw that broke the camel's back. Honestly, even if my back was broken, I still forced myself to get up and continue. The past week was me trying to literally WORK through the stress. 

During a group meeting on Wednesdsay, one of the managers reminded us to "say no" and only do essential work. I asked for guidance on how to identify and to respond. A colleague IM'ed me, "You didn't look satisfied with their answers." (Thank you video conferencing)

"Should I be?" I responded, now questioning whether I was being unreasonable. My colleague agreed there were no straight answers given. He gave me reassurance that I'm not the only one feeling that way. No one else knows how to.

I'm burnt out. I quit in January. I was supposed to leave in June. Staying until February makes sense in this covid economy. But just because something "makes sense" doesn't mean it's right.

I couldn't control the water works that evening. My mom finally saw me crack. I told her, "This is why I need to quit. I feel like this inside all the time. I'm not lying or being funny when I say a part of me dies when I do accounting." Her maternal instincts kicked in and she hugged me and told me it would be okay. She's starting to get it, I think.

If I look back, I think I have some resentment towards the world. It feels like no one questioned me when I wanted to keep working during cancer. And now that I'm taking my well-deserved break, everyone is questioning why I would leave such a great career. But really, I resent myself for not taking that mental step. People did question it, they did tell me to take a break. I was just too stubborn, too determined to be successful on all accounts. I wanted to be superwoman. I don't know why, but I wanted to prove that to the world. And even though I'm surrounded by people who lift me up. And affirm that I am great. I still don't know how to accept it. I don't know what the picture I'm trying to paint is. 

That's what the move was going to force me to do. Find a new picture, move away from the corporate photo.

I'm at a crossroad on how to handle the next 5 months. Wow. 5 months. That's one month less than safe at home has been in place in California. That's a long time.

 

What can I do? What can I cut? What can I add to make it more bearable? It used to be traveling. I had one international trip a year, and smaller trips in between. Now, as I continue my illustrated metaphor, I see accounting and all the pressures that go along with it as black. Everything else is red, yellow, blue, white, green, purple in various hues and saturation. I'm exploring the different colors. I haven't used them all yet. I've been stuck in pastel, but why haven't I tried neon? Even if I add more colors to my life, that one drop of accounting black still makes everything dark. So they only way to get brighter, is to stop that darkness from getting bigger. If I can get rid of it, then I'm free to paint a new picture.

Chadwick

 

 

 

Rest in power, Chadwick Boseman. You were truly a talent, a role model, and an advocate for the young, gifted, and black. 

I was heartbroken over his death for three reasons:

1) I was a fan. He was a beautiful man. He was a great actor. I watched Black Panther 4 times in theatres. That's a record for me. The challenge scene where he's wearing shorts was a treat for the eyes. I heard nothing but kind words at work when he worked on our movies.

2) He was a representative of black people in the media. I can only imagine how hard it is to lose a hero. In this reawakening, in this effort to show people BLACK LIVES MATTER, it hurts to lose Chadwick from that fight.

3) He died of cancer. His 2020 death isn't due to coronavirus. It was due to a disease that still has no cure. Fuck cancer.

Every article about his death had three common elements

1) His acting accomplishments, notably Black Panther.

2) Chadwick was 43 when he died.

3) He was diagnosed with cancer in 2016.

Why did that last point trigger me? Because I was also diagnosed with cancer in 2016. Thinking about all of the treatment he had to endure, it hurts. Thinking about all of the things he accomplished in between, it amazes. He was a movie star. He had to film, he had to promote, he had to endure. All the while, stupid freaking cancer lived inside him, caused pain, and then spread to take over. Learning of his struggle, I admire him even more, which in turn, makes losing him hurt even more.

He was 43 and it had been 4 years since he learned he had cancer. Last year, I called my birthday 30 & 3. I turned 30 and it was 3 years since my diagnosis. I realized I'd always be counting my cancer age, so I embraced it. Now I realize, it's something that will always be included in the articles.

 

Two Hamilton lyrics come to mind:

 

Death doesn't discriminate -- At any point, we can die. It can be from cancer, from a helicopter crash, from a pandemic, from a heart attack. You never know what God's plan is or why His plan is. It just happens.

 

You have no control who lives, who dies, who tells your story -- Chadwick and I had no control of a 2016 cancer diagnosis becoming a part of a story. And now it just is.