2019: Year of Compatibility

Today marks two weeks of travel into the new year. Exactly fourteen days of reflection, goal-setting, and a lot of backsliding. I’m digging in: committing to making my one and only life work. In the last few weeks I kept hearing a word come up in conversations, in books, on screens. My new theme.

Last year…

2018, for me, was defined by a particular word. A running theme that spanned 365 days of challenging, irritating, and patience-building circumstances.

That word was resilience.

From relationship woes to impending unemployment. From seeking to securing to adjusting to a new and more exciting job.

From stress-induced fender-bender to a car accident that totaled my baby Harriet (Tubman because she freed me). Crying for months on the phone with – and in the offices of – unaccommodating car catastrophe-related personnel.

I had to tough it out. Find stores of resilience in myself because no matter how inconvenient and painful, ultimately not one in that series of unfortunate events, would kill me.

There’s something both empowering and disheartening in knowing that you can survive more. In knowing that you can -and one day will have to- be even stronger still. To my genuine dismay I’d have to make it, and keep making it until I encounter something that actually could… kill me.

2018 brought me my first major loan/credit debt-builder while simultaneously rewarding me for my fastidious and measured money management. That gave me the chance to buy a new newish new-to-me car without a co-sign.

2018 brought me a new apartment and a supportive and enjoyable new roomate. Desperation forced our hands, and leases loomed, but a great new friendship formed with each passing month.

Finally, 2018 brought me a new job and plenty of opportunities to learn more about coworker relationships, leadership, and the bureaucratic entities that govern worky-desky-sitty jobs. I’m learning to detect and define my red flags: in romance, in myself, and in my past.

This Year…

In all that I experienced last year, the greatest lesson, and this year’s word, is compatibility. Too many times I’ve forced interactions, and ignored red flags. I’ve wanted things and people more than I’ve wanted peace and flow. I’ve sacrificed compatibility thinking it would yield results in the long run while suffering daily. Living in-authentically. Incompatibly.

I’m committing myself to effortlessness. No matter how contradictory that sounds. ๐Ÿคฆ๐Ÿพโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿคท๐Ÿพโ€โ™€๏ธ I’m working everyday to create a free-flowing life. Disciplining my time and my life to allow in the types of opportunities that I want to experience and take advantage of. If I can nail down my habits, I will have the discernment necessary to adjudicate over delicious new experiences with the time and preparation to appreciate them. What I’ll need is discipline.

Plot twist: Discipline is this cool new form of self-care where you follow a schedule, prompt yourself, and do things that benefit your life. Get this, if you push through your reluctance, and fatigue and keep to your word, you actually see your life improve! Crazy, right!?

My new Mantra. It gets me out of bed. Out of the car for work. Into the gym despite this unusual cold snap. I mumble it to myself in traffic, and as I set my alarms. “Discipline is love. Discipline is love. Discipline is love.” In the shower when my mental to-do list at work gets disparagingly long, “Discipline is love.”

Discipline is the new hygge. Discipline is the new pilates, hot yoga, and cycling combined. For the last two weeks I have set a schedule for myself and begun sleeping at a certain time, setting particular days to work out or study for class. I’ve taken specific steps to make myself ready and remove excuses.


Shoutout to @Amaa_Official on Twitter for Inception inseminating my mind!

Ways that I’ve been utilizing discipline to increase compatibility in 2019:

  • I speak immediately on the things causing me anxiety and don’t murder myself by over thinking the outcomes and avoiding difficult conversations
  • I put my clothes out the night before AND check the weather
  • I schedule my workouts and don’t stress if I miss one. I just resume immediately at the next scheduled opportunity
  • I meal prep to save money, keep on diet, and feel like a grown up
  • I try to do things at the same times each day to create routine and run on muscle memory
  • I can spend time with friends and family more often if I make them shorter outings. (for instance, I can say yes to a party without anxiety because I know be there for no more than 120 minutes)
  • I let my phone die on Saturday mornings, and don’t power up again until the evening. A whole day off the grid to work on my blog, homework, connect to loved ones, work out, get domestic, or just relax
  • I refuse to be inhabited by guilt so I leave work at a reasonable time and wake up early to recap before I sit at my desk. No more unfocused late nights churning out half-assed results from a foggy anxious brain drain

I want to be calling things, relationships, experiences, and opportunities toward me. I want to create a space where growth, love, and contentment are welcomed. I want to have room for change, and be the person with the mindset to make use of that change. Discipline is love. Love for me, for my friends and family, love for my readers, and the individuals I serve. I want to love my life more, so I need to discipline it.

Discipline is love.

TIRED of Being Broke: No Money, Mo Problems!

Image courtesy of skiptothis.com

[sings Al Green-ly at top of lungs]

“I’m so tired of being broke,

I can’t pay this on my own,

Won’t you help me Mom,

Just as soon as you can!?”

I’m sitting on another curb tearfully waiting for a tow truck; the second one this week.

Lyfting across Miami costs me about a month’s worth of gas, and my lil red hooptie Harriet is no closer to being fixed.

I try to hide my face from the residents of the overpass under which I overheated. We are now essentially in the same water-free boat.

Update: Bought a new car in August. Still broke though ๐Ÿคฆ๐Ÿพโ€โ™€๏ธ Car buying is an emotional ๐ŸŽข

I get it. I’m a quasi-recent grad. I’m young. I “should” be broke. It’s expected. I devoted my first few years after graduation to service, and the non profit sector is so named for a reason. Got it.

Big booty BUT though … now I’m settled in another full time, fully benefited, office based, salaried job with all the assurances and insurances that I previously coveted, and I’m still broke. Still proportionately the same amount of broke.

Brick. Brack. Broke. ๐Ÿ’†๐Ÿพโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ˜’๐Ÿ™ƒ

I don’t have to bread you in the many work, income, and finance woes that face the average millennial. You know then well.

1. We’re living at home longer which means we buy homes later.

2. We are SADDLED with unprecedented educational debt.

3. We inherited an awesome economy.

4. Will invariably end up working deep into our golden years.

Ultimately it all just feels like…

A memoir.

Chapter 1.

Where’s my mom now with her threats to take me out of this world she so lustfully brought me into!?

I’m tired, boss.

Plus insurance still costs you money and I don’t understand why I’m paying twice to not be sick!

Every-flipping-thing! Bills, insurance, loans, water, the waves that travel through Al Gore’s Internet, breathing, eating animals, not eating animals, education, avocados, air, everything.

Do these headliner tidbits sound familiar?

1. “You should have three months of bills (not just rent) saved up!”

3. How many emergencies can you fund?

Cake cannot be both eaten and possessed simultaneously. The same quantity of money cannot be both saved and spent. It’s not a question of how much I spend, or how aggressively I budget.

I don’t make enough. Thats it.

The rent at my new apartment is $75 less expensive. Our utilities are lower. I eat out less often than ever. And just as I might see addendums to my pockets, I have had 3 emergencies since August. There goes my profit margin.

Credit card balance hovers like a David Blane stunt: inscrutable and racially ambiguous.

{enters stage left} … the side hustle. Which thus far feels more like an internship.

But…

How are y’all escaping the clutches of poverty? Glucose guardians?

Email me!

Lessons in Adulting: Imposter Syndrome

When youโ€™re a baby, no one shames you for not speaking English. Or any language besides cooing and burbling. {Actually no one should shame anyone for not speaking English, but thatโ€™s neither here not there! Heck you, xenophobes!๐Ÿคš๐Ÿพ๐Ÿšซ} So why is it that once you you pass through the invisible doorway to presumed adulthood, are we suddenly expected to know everything!?

Itโ€™s like Iโ€™m reviewing a book in a genre Iโ€™ve never read. Like Iโ€™m writing an instruction manual for a device Iโ€™ve never used, seen, built or even heard of. Iโ€™m a first-time adult.๐Ÿคท๐Ÿพโ€โ™€๏ธ๐Ÿ™ƒ

[Rod Serling, writer and host of Twilight Zone voice] Enter into evidence the phenomenon know as โœŒ๐Ÿพimposter syndromeโœŒ๐Ÿพ

According the great and reputable peer-reviewed source know as Wikipedia, imposter syndrome is defined as:

Not to be confused with Capgras delusion which seems far more prohibitive and problematic.

I’ve been battling with I.S. in waves for the last 8ish years. Here’s my theory!

Roze’s I.S. theory:

1. Well meaning parents haphazardly program their children with fixed mindset ideals (ie. “Look how well you did. It’s so easy for you. You barely study. You’re naturally bright!”) and reward innate talent disproportionately ๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿพ๐Ÿง”๐Ÿพ๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿพโ€๐ŸŽ“

2. External value is attributed to success (ie. Honor roll, deans list, trophies and certificates) and intrinsic value is not deliberately cultivated ๐Ÿ…๐Ÿ†๐Ÿ““๐Ÿ”–

3. Difficult to navigate workforce rewards inflated resumes and applications (ie. Entry level pay and position requiring years of experience and certifications)

4. Supervisory practices support less dynamic and diverse workplace of antiquity (ie. supervision doesn’t survey strengths or accommodate learning styles)

5. No immediate access to HR, EAP, or mental health resources within workplace structure (ie. report/address supervisor, mitigate stresses influencing productivity, feel comfortable taking time away) ๐Ÿ‘ฉ๐Ÿพโ€โš•๏ธ ๐Ÿ›‹โœ๐Ÿพ

I’ve theorized that a wealth of factors contribute to the phenomenon of I.S. For me, I find that my I.S. is triggered in comprehensive projects with deadlines, multiple changing factors, and no clear rubric; also known as wicked problems.

In the nonprofit and academia spheres, we are inundated with wicked problems: poverty, healthcare, education etc. The stress from attempting to address these problems can reek havoc on the rest of our lives.

In an I.S. spiral I tend to think back to the many mistakes I’ve made in my burgeoning professionalism and forget to count the many more wins I’ve been privileged to have.

I’m stricken with a pain in my stomach and my thoughts race while Im possessed with the idea that I’ll be found out. I am a dummy, I have performed as promised, and I don’t deserve this job.

At any moment my director will come flying through the door; simultaneously ripping it off its hinges and banshee-screaming that I’m fired. ๐Ÿšช๐Ÿ‡๐Ÿพ๐Ÿคบ๐Ÿ‰ That’s insane. My director is a nice lady who can hardly run much less fly.

Why do I feel this way? What can I do? When should I quit?

I feel this way because it’s my first. My immediate family’s first college grad. One of my first full time quasi-traditional jobs. I’m being asked questions about retirement, paying for my own benefits, and considering, for the first time, to pinpoint what I’ll be doing in five years. I feel this way because there’s a lot riding on this and on me. Because I’m officially in charge of my life, but I want nothing more than to step down and politely decline.

Check out Cendino’s photography here!

What I can do is my best. I can pick out each day and it’s 1000 objectives and truly (not fakely) give each one whatever “my best” looks like for that day. That way I can watch Netflix, and work out, and spend the rest of my time authentically engaged without the lingering guilt and self-applied pressure that is my spiraling workweek HELL!๐Ÿ”ฅ๐Ÿ‘น I deserve to be genuinely present and invested in this one life I get.

More tangibly, I’ve recently started an achievement journal. Today’s Shine Text calls it a “brag book”, where I periodically list all the things I’ve accomplished in a day and marvel at how gifted and Beyoncรฉ-like I am!

When should I quit? Tomorrow. I can quit tomorrow. It’s always an option. Always on the table. But today I’ll try. I’ll stay late if I have to. I will rack my brain, ask for help, go for a walk if I have to. It may be tough today, but I can always quit tomorrow.

Check out this quick read from a helpful source.

I love a good mantra ๐Ÿ™๐Ÿพ๐Ÿ•ฏ๐Ÿ“ฟ๐Ÿง˜๐Ÿพโ€โ™€๏ธ. Try this on for size if you’re battling some serious Imposter Syndrome! Repeat to yourself in the midst of a panic, or use it to start your day.

“I am not an imposter. I am more than qualified. I will work to prove it to myself. I deserve the rewards I have been blessed with!”

Go forth into your workweek and prosper ๐Ÿ––๐Ÿพ, even when your to-do list has been fruitful and multiplying. You’re not an imposter. Do your job. LIVE YOUR LIFE.

Part-Time Lover๏ปฟ


The eternal joblessness forced me to look into the abyss, and in turn, I allowed it to look into me. I was only recently able to put together words to describe the silent sneaking fear waiting just below the surface. Actually acquiring one of those “big girl jobs” I so desperately covet and having to work ….

[blood curdling horror movie scream]

…FULL TIME!!!


How exactly does one “full time”? It may be my millennial entitlement talking, but why can’t I just be paid to follow my bliss? Punching a clock day in and day out sounds like signing up to be a drooling cubicle slave. It sounds like being chained ย to a desk while all that I love (and cannot currently afford) is held dangling over a vat of boiling acid(ic debt).


Is that really what adulting means? How can I survive with both my exquisite brain and powerful lower body intact?

[sigh] This is going to be, you know, a fascinating transition.

In other news Netflix ‘s Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt has been speaking to my LIFE! She’s so honest, vulnerable, optimistic, weird, and willing to learn. Just like me. #hashbrownawesomesauce


In parting, I leave you with this:

Remember not to run from bears, just pretend to be dead. That’s also my philosophy regarding any major responsibilities. Also, go get Netflix if you haven’t (psssh, of course you have, what are you, the Amish? I’m sorry if you or your loved ones are Amish and find this offensive. But wait, how did you internet?) ย and watch my darling Kim-becile.

Roze Goes

Like, rate, share, follow, and subscribe. Call me, beep me, if you wanna reach me!

 

*Prize for the first person to tell me how many Kimmy references are in this post. It’s cashews. The Prize isย are cashews!*

The Ketchup

For my upcoming birthday I am giving myself success… or at least opportunities to attain it. I interviewed Friday and spoke with my soon-to-be-employer; she’s super enthusiastic to have me start immediately. I’m attempting … {cringes] to date. ย I’m looking into grad school options, and doing a lot of personal inventory. Finally, as it pertains to this blog, I plan to establish a schedule for posting. Here goes:

Sunday (bi-weekly): The Ketchup

Thursday: List/Rant

Any Other Day: Reposts

Ok, so for this bi-weekly Ketchup I’ll fill you in on whats been filling my headspace..

There is no such thing as a big break! (I know, SHOCKING!) For many of the fields in which I have interest, a “famous” person could “put me on”. They could stumble across my work and immediately see value in it. But how, I query, will they see me if I am not yet a big enough stumbling block? I need to be a huge, obtrusive, stub-your-toe, unignorable cinder block. Without that work what would it matter? If I did meet the right person? What do I have but a head full of ideas without a body of work to support it?

Depression is like chronic ringworm, but thankfully motivation is like showering.

I WILL NOT tolerate people that don’t respect the sanctity of a relationship. Let me explain. If you hit on me and you’re in a relationship, I will SMITE you. Done. Worse still, are the people (I’m sure men and women are guilty, but as I am a Hetero woman, it comes from guys) who insist that a friendship could be maintained, or that friendship was their initial intent {viscous side eye}. Here, take my hand. Please allow me to guide you onto the path that will illuminate EXACTLY where you had me messed up! Take an everlasting musical chairs tournament worth of seats!

(I’m mad all over again… smh)

In parting I leave you with this. If you listen carefully, you can shake you bom-bom and be joyously inspired!

Negative, Nancy … now Roze Goes. (Get it, because life is an adventure?