Connecting the Dots

Twenty-Twenty was a year for the record books, and I wanted a fresh start, so I put myself on a limited social media diet, committed to a green detox, and a renewed commitment to staying in shape. Everything was going well. We held on to our food shop, and I worked on a new plan for the business. Given the circumstances, the first three weeks of January went well, so what happened?

It was a Sunday morning, I was up early, excited about my new snack food venture. I dutifully searched through available name choices with my children's input, and before long, we settled on a fun, quirky name. My favorite part was designing, so I started on the logo. I could hardly contain my excitement, and I ran over to my mother's room to share. The moment she heard the name, she balked at it and started saying, "no, no, find something else." I was used to hearing no and quickly resorting to my favorite defense, convincing, and persuasion.

Oddly, this time I observed and felt a bit disturbed as I watched myself in action. After some thirty minutes had passed and me saying the name some a hundred times, including singing a little jingle, she had to admit it was growing her. I had finally got her to approve, and I was pleased, so I left the room to finish working on my project. That afternoon the front door opened. It was my brother. He gave his greetings and made his way to the porch to see my father. All this talk of snacks and logos made me hungry, so I made my way to the kitchen. My mother saw me in passing and asked how the logo was coming. I volunteered to show her and excitedly ran to my room for my computer.

A few minutes later, I emerged with the open laptop and placed it on her bed. At that moment, my brother walked into her room, demanding all of her attention as usual. She fed right into him, so I quietly took my computer and walked away. It was in that moment I felt the passion I had prided myself on for so long had dampened, and I was exhausted from years of stoking its flames with hopes and dreams of change.

You may be thinking, what in the world is wrong with this woman? Is she five, and how can her adult sibling be the cause of her second-guessing her passion and purpose in life? On this journey, we get dots, places we mark and take note of, and as we continue, we gather enough information to connect them. That moment was me connecting the dots.

See, my goal and purpose were to heal myself of childhood and intergenerational trauma and help others along the way to do the same. The mission started some twenty years prior as I sat as a freshman in my dorm room, drowning my soul in tears. Instead of learning college algebra, I wandered the campus wishing there was a course to understand and dissect and heal the soul.

After two years of aimless musing and mounting debt, I left the university, moved to another city, and decided to take up art. I was on the course to become a graphic designer but soon allowed a small set back to deter me from completing my degree. My parents weren't pleased to hear I was dropping out of school, but I had to keep moving. My soul's internal GPS kept directing me to the places that I thought held the answers that I needed.

At the age of twenty-two, I ended up back to where I started, New York City, and it was there that I found my passion and purpose, or so I thought. When I first arrived, I was jobless and broke and living in a poorly ventilated side room at my grandparent's house. The summers were brutal. I had a small fan that circulated the stale hot air around the room. Most nights, I would fall asleep to the sound of horns honking and the static from my grandfather's hand radio in the other room.

Did I make the right decision? I often wondered as I lay there plotting my next move. One afternoon the heat had become so unbearable that it lulled me sleep and into a vision. I saw myself crossing treacherous waters, almost losing my life on many occasions only to reach the shores safely. On the other side, people asked me how I got over, and I willingly volunteered to guide them across. I sat up in the bed after that vision that felt so real and knew at that moment that my mission was to help other people like me. Now that I had direction, I needed to find work and a new place to live.

Eventually, I moved out. I knew to lead by example, so I started working through my past and offering to help family members compromise positions. I felt good about helping and living my purpose. During this time, I quickly learned my first lesson, "You can't want more for others than they wanted for themselves."

I stumbled my way through the next few years, holding on to the idea of healing and helping. The more I pushed, the heavier my load became. I beat myself up for not being good enough and made it a habit of revisiting my past mistakes. I was forcing the vision and gaslighting my passion into fruition. How could I help others if I couldn't help myself?

Back to the present, a lot of what I did in the past was to prove my value to others to motivate them to change or accept me. The situation with my mother and brother gave me insight into where this issue developed in my life. It was in this family dynamic I learned to put others before myself for the wrong reason. My social media, physical and emotional detox allowed me the time I needed to reflect and focus on myself. Amid the uncertainty of today's world, I finally found a level of peace within. I am eternally grateful for the opportunity to start fresh and embrace the new me.

#freshstart

#taketimetoheal