Dear Readers,
This morning started off strange — one of those days where something just feels off before anything even happens. My shoulder pain is still hanging on, refusing to ease up no matter what I do. Bisa, Angel, and Woe have all been telling me to go get it checked out, and honestly, they’re right. It’s been affecting me more than I’d like to admit — every movement reminds me that I’m hurting.
Before I began work, an email came through: my background check paperwork for my new job had finally arrived. I filled it out right away, double-checked every line, and had it submitted before nine a.m. My plan was simple — once that was done, I’d hand in my two weeks’ notice that afternoon.
But life never follows the plan, does it?
While on a work call with the operations team, I got a text from my district manager:
“Hey, I just got a call as a reference for a job? What’s going on?”
My stomach dropped. I hadn’t intended to blindside anyone. I hadn’t even listed her as a reference — only as my current supervisor. But I could tell she felt caught off guard. As soon as my call ended, I phoned her back to explain everything, though she was clearly upset. She told me she didn’t appreciate being used as a reference, even though that wasn’t my intention. I just hope the conversation didn’t go poorly and that it won’t come back to hurt my hiring process.
Still, it pushed me to finally do what I’d planned — I officially submitted my resignation, setting my last day as November 22nd. It felt heavy but necessary, like exhaling after holding my breath for too long. Once that was done, though, my energy just… disappeared. I was drained.
I got ready and headed out for my Wednesday appointment with Bella, my therapist. I told her everything — the job, the changes, the chaos of the last week. In just seven days, I’d colored my hair, cut my hair, gotten a new job, received my college verdict, and turned in my two weeks. That’s a lot of transformation packed into one week. Bella smiled and told me she was proud — and I think I needed to hear that.
I also told her about my shoulder pain, and she introduced me to a new technique called Progressive Muscle Relaxation — a method to help me release tension and manage some of the symptoms of my PTSD. It’s meant to help the body unlearn the stress response that builds up after trauma. I’m going to try it tonight and see if it helps calm both my muscles and my mind.
After leaving my session, I called my mom — which I probably shouldn’t have. The conversation started fine but quickly turned into an argument. I’d forgotten how close the holidays are, and every year, they bring their own kind of heaviness to my family. The trauma, the expectations, the constant push against my boundaries — it’s exhausting. For once, I’ve been standing my ground, refusing to overextend myself or get dragged into old habits of people-pleasing. But that doesn’t come without conflict. When the conversation turned harsh, I had to do what I’ve been learning: step back. I hung up before it could spiral further.
By that point, I needed something comforting. So, I did what anyone in need of healing does — I treated myself. I went to my favorite sushi restaurant, ordered everything I craved, and spent nearly $80 celebrating my wins by myself. It may sound extravagant, but honestly, it was worth it. Sometimes you just need to sit with yourself, savor something delicious, and remind yourself that you’re allowed to celebrate — even alone.
Afterwards, I went home, drifted in and out of sleep, then decided to clean my room. There’s something about a clean space that quiets the noise in your mind. While I was finishing up, my general manager texted, wanting to know why I’d decided to put in my two weeks. I told him the truth: that I’d applied for this position months ago, that it offers more stability and pay — things I need to help my dad and brother since they’re both still without jobs. He understood completely, wished me well, and told me I deserved the opportunity. Even with that reassurance, though, a part of me still worries. I don’t know if I’ll actually make it to the 22nd. But I keep reminding myself — I’m replaceable to them, and that’s okay. The company will go on, and I have to move forward too.
Later that evening, my dad called me into the kitchen while he was cooking. We talked while he stirred the pans, and the conversation — like so many lately — turned heavy. He spoke about not wanting to find another job but instead working on developing an app that lets people record messages for loved ones in case something happens to them. Hearing that made my heart ache. In the past two years, he’s had serious medical scares — one so bad they had to restart his heart. Since then, I’ve been the one legally listed to make decisions for him if it ever happens again. Tonight’s talk brought all those fears rushing back. The what-ifs, the memories, the quiet terror that lives somewhere deep inside me.
I didn’t have the heart to talk about it with Bitey or Bisa later. Instead, we played games together — me, Bitey, Woe, and Bisa — just trying to fill the air with something lighter. I colored while we played, using soft shades of blue and lavender, letting the quiet activity pull my mind away from everything else.
I’d like to say I always stay positive, but the truth is, it’s hard sometimes. Between the stress, the pain, and the doomsday conversations around me, it’s easy to feel like the world is closing in. But I keep remembering something Bella once told me: “You can’t control how others act, only how you respond.” So tonight, that’s my focus — taking one small, calm breath, and one step forward at a time.
With love,
Monique
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