Unfinished Business

Why I Write

Writing, for me, feels like having a million tabs open on a browser-probably why I'm in a constant state of mental lockdown. Every time I sit down at my computer, it's like shaking a snow globe. Micro-memories swirl while I wait, sometimes anxiously, sometimes impatiently, for one piece to settle long enough for me to catch and put into words. Words I hope make what I've lived through interesting enough for someone else to keep reading.

Each entry I write is inspired by something: a conversation I've had, an experience I've lived, or a line from a book. Those moments don’t just spark an idea-they unlock a memory waiting to be shared. It's time I stop downplaying the fact my thoughts matter. My experiences matter.

But it's not just about me. One of my biggest regrets is not asking more questions about my family, my past-the details only my parents or their generation could've shared while they were still alive. Part of why I'm doing this now is because we're entering an age where AI is on the rise, and real, emotional, flesh-and-blood connection will matter even more.

Our stories are history. Personal, yes, but also universal. We need to share experiences if we ever hope to understand where someone else is coming from. Empathy, kindness, understanding-these aren't just soft concepts. They're survival skills.

If someone reading this sees a piece of themselves in my story, maybe it'll keep them from retreating into self-hate or loathing. Because darkness like that doesn't stay quiet. It festers, then turns into fear. And fear is so often what people project onto others.

"The vast majority of us have so much more in common than what separates us. We must speak and own that truth, in particular, in the face of people who are trying to have us point fingers at each other and divide us." - Kamala Harris

This chapter is less about a memory and more about where I am now, because I'm trying to get out of my own way. In the past, I let people dim my light. You wouldn't have known it to look at me, but I did. And here's the thing: I knew the comments were meant to cut. I knew the intentions behind the little jabs and backhanded advice. But it doesn't mean I didn't let them crawl in and take root. That's how it happens-quietly. You absorb things you swore you'd reject.

Lately, all of it has resurfaced while I spin through this job search, thinking about missteps, missed chances, and holding on to the hope I haven't lived the best part of my life yet. Everyone's version of “success” looks different, personally and professionally. And while I know I have a lot to be grateful for, I'm still hungry. I'm not ready to coast through the last few decades like the story's already been written. I still want more. I still believe in the American Dream.

I don't plan to make these chapters intentionally political, but let's be honest: everything is political. Whether people like it or not, the choices being made around us, by people in power, cut to the core of who we are, how we live, and what we're allowed to become. I try not to overuse words like “patriarchy” or “misogyny” because I know they trigger certain reactions. But if I'm being honest, the truth in my story is exactly what those words mean. You'll see why as you read on. You'll understand the experiences that shaped my views, why I'm so aware of what's happening around me, and why choosing to reroute after reflection isn't failure. It's growth.

My body may be aging, but my spirit is pushing forward.