The amount a person can grow is proportional to the amount of truth they can accept about themselves. Let that settle in for a second.

The past twelve years have been dedicated to growth. To finding myself again. Overcoming generational traumas handed down to me. I have learned to pick and choose my battles. I remain calm. I work best under pressure. And I hope that I treat everyone with the same level of respect I want to be treated with. But perspective is everything. All that said, I’m still human. I make mistakes. I forget things. It’s why I make lists. And sometimes it doesn’t make it to my list. I’m not perfect. On Wednesday I committed to helping someone. Instead of reminding me of my commitment to help the next day, an overreaction to my forgetting led to a chain reaction of events. One being me crying in my office. Something so simple blew up so quickly. So out of proportion. If something that small turns into a workplace bombing, how big will the reaction be over something serious? And what will be the aftermath.

For the past three days I have been reflecting on every conversation. Every action. Every reaction. Every shared word. I have shed a lot of tears, lost a lot of sleep, and haven’t had much of an appetite. I feel sick to my stomach. Yet I’m still trying to figure out how I need to improve so this doesn’t happen again. Because that is what broken people do. We are constantly trying to mend things. After everything that has happened this year, work was my safe place. A place I could focus on things not related to my personal life. This week it just became another part of the battlefield.
It’s time to make a few life decisions. I’m scared. I’m hurt. I have no idea if I lost a friend in all of this or not. All I know is I don’t deserve to feel the way I do in my work environment.