Monday I’m taking the One train downtown for a meeting on Wall Street. I know very little about the NYC Metro system and even less about the stock market, but here I am.
I don’t belong there, but I am doing my best to blend in. Wear your black winter jacket and knee-high boots. Don’t make eye contact. Walk fast, and with a purpose. Don’t let them get a whiff of your insecurity. Answer your emails with one hand and sip your overpriced coffee held by the other.
No one notices that I’m ten thousand miles away from my comfort zone.
Tuesday I’m writing a short story in a coffee shop tucked somewhere between my hotel and Times Square. Just start with a sentence. Write fast and with a purpose. Brush off the impostor syndrome that sits with the devil on your left shoulder. Scribble notes with your right hand and sip your overpriced latte held by the left. I haven’t taken a class or written fiction in years, but here I am.
An ode to strangers who become friends:
Love lives in a text message chain
between strangers who might someday
realize their power to change and make change.
What if I’m not good enough?
I guess I don’t really know
who I am on the inside.
Love lives in four strangers who
were thrown together
by fear and faith in something bigger.
You got this, girl.
Don’t let them tell you
that you shouldn’t or won’t;
you should, and you can, and you will.
Love lives in four friends;
strangers strung together
by “me toos,” words, and wifi.
We got this, girls.
Who we are on the inside
and have shared with the out
has already made change–
in changing each other.
Oh, honey. No.
The Universe gently laid her hand on my shoulder.
I had just been rejected for the second time in the span of three days. I braced myself to feel the disappointment of being a total failure, of being unwanted, of missing out. Instead, I felt the breath slowly exit my body and my shoulders relaxed for the first time in weeks.
Two tremendous opportunities were extended to two people who are not me. And instead of feeling hurt and upset, all I felt was pure relief.
Had I been selected, I am positive that I would have said Yes – whether I wanted to or not. We often don’t have the confidence, the strength, or the foresight to say it for ourselves. Sometimes we keep on hoarding those yesses until we crumble under the weight of them. And other times, we are saved when the Universe intervenes and whispers,
Oh, honey. No.
For many of us, we don’t know something is wrong for us until choice is removed from the table. We’ve all had these moments right? When rejection was the best thing that could have ever happened.
I’ve been passed over for promotions I thought I wanted. I’ve been dumped by boys who weren’t nice enough to me. I’ve been told that “We’re all out of the pumpkin ale tonight.” But right around the corner from Oh, honey. No. was the right job, the right boy, the most perfect Scotch Ale.
Listen to those whispers. Right around the corner from oh honey no is the right hell yes.
[ Come fail with me. ]