The Switch Up

I’d love to take full credit for my growth, but the truth is that the circumstances I’ve faced have molded me as significantly as the self-work I’ve put in.

My parents’ passing gave me the gift of detachment.

It’s easy to set boundaries and stand on bidness when you’re not afraid to lose anyone. That, and the continued understanding that nothing I do can fuck up something that’s truly meant for me gives me so much solace and confidence in my decisions.

I’ve always been hesitant to set boundaries for fear of abandonment and fear of confrontation. But not giving a fuck is incredibly liberating.

I genuinely dreaded transitioning into a management role at work. I preferred being responsible only for myself, letting my personal actions determine my success. I avoided the shift for as long as I could, but I knew it was a necessary step for career growth—so I jumped in.

Now that I’m in the role and learning the business beyond just my personal contributions, I realize this move was essential for my personal growth too. Among other things, it has given me a backbone and the skills to say what I have to say and stand on it.

While there’s a somberness in recognizing the need to set boundaries—because we all want to believe those around us have the best intentions—I feel proud of myself for finally having the ability to do so. At the end of the day, I am responsible for protecting my energy and my feelings. SELF preservation.

I used to need someone to explicitly say what they were already screaming at me through their actions. I’d take their lack of effort as a challenge to prove my worth. But fuck all that. I don’t need closure, and I don’t need an explanation. The lack of clarity is the clarity. Do you really need to understand why someone treated you poorly, or just accept the bottom line—that being treated poorly means they don’t give a fuck?

I’ve learned that no conversation can justify or excuse  poor treatment, nor can I explain myself to someone committed to misunderstanding me. It is what it is. Observe, understand, and adjust—that’s all there is to it.

Sometimes, it’s not even about someone treating you poorly. Maybe you just don’t feel safe or comfortable in their energy. Maybe you did once, but now you don’t. A few years ago, I would have spiraled into a rabbit hole of hypotheticals, trying to find the source of the shift. Now, I remind myself that true alignment doesn’t come wrapped in confusion.

Instead of arguing and overthinking, why not channel that energy into something more meaningful and fulfilling? I’m proud of this shift in mindset—choosing to find the good even in difficult situations.

I have a tattoo that reads, “There are always flowers,” inspired by Henri Matisse’s quote, “There are always flowers for those who want to see them.” It’s a reminder that there’s good in every situation, depending on how I choose to view it. Was it a catastrophic situationship, or did we learn a lesson in recognizing what I won’t tolerate in the future?

I have another tattoo inspired by Henri Matisse, this one of a figure from his painting The Dance. The tattoo itself is a bit of a contradiction: instead of the whole painting, I chose the figure that looked the most fluid—a reminder that life is ever-changing. As someone who craves continuity and predictability, change can be scary. But this tattoo also symbolizes that with change comes new beginnings, a chance to start over. It reminds me that I’m never truly stuck and that I can always pivot to become whoever I want to be.

Just as my tattoos remind me that change is inevitable and necessary, accountability is a key part of embracing that growth—both in holding myself accountable and ensuring those around me are held accountable when my needs aren’t met. It’s one thing to set boundaries, but what happens when they’re crossed? My block game is strong, don’t get it twisted, but I want to address disrespect in a more mature and constructive way. Because really, with men, I’m apt to cut ties without even explaining where you had me fucked up at. But I want to be better. She is beauty, she is grace.

As the year winds down, I reflect on my experiences with gratitude—some for the joy and fun they brought, and others for the growth they inspired. It wasn’t always about what happened, but rather how I chose to respond. For this year’s lessons in detachment, self-preservation, and embracing change, I’m profoundly grateful—each one has brought me closer to the person I’m meant to become.