My Year of Yes…
This piece is about re-entry, coming back to a situation and figuring out what changed over time. I’m in my early 40’s now; the chapter covering my 20’s is what I call the lost years. The decade of my life where I completely switched off, a time of absolute joy and overwhelming sadness.
So, where do I begin? Twenty years goes by so quickly, and before you know it, you’ve lost yourself in the process of trying to get over failure, trying to heal and trying to mask your way through situations and the slow realisation that mental health issues have played a massive part in your journey. I’m a typical water sign, a Piscean. I love the idea of being in love and the fairy tales & the butterflies that go along with it: Pickett fences, romance, vulnerability and the freedom to live in the moment.
Twenty years of being afraid to fail, to be vulnerable, move forward without a plan, and wholeheartedly accept the opportunities and experiences that would come my way with the enthusiasm they came.
Trapped in a cycle of masking and suppressing how I felt didn’t happen overnight. I’m not sure how I got to that point; as a teenager, I had a real fire and determination that often left me in precarious positions, an impulsive dreamer who believed there was good in everyone given the right circumstances. I remember the first time the pain I was in became physical, the very first time I felt no control and out of my depth. The first-time love did hurt or, in my case, a love I’d committed to growing into. I lost a part of myself that day, and although I’d felt shame before, I didn’t realise that I’d become a master at masking and concealing to the extent I did. I made a conscious decision to no longer feel anything, to not disclose anything that would make me feel vulnerable. I gave up feeling joy in any of its beautiful forms and became addicted to shame and fear.
Masking is a survival mechanism; it can become all-consuming so much, so you don’t even realise it’s happening to you. Every day becomes an exercise in hiding who you are and what you feel, how you navigate social and work relationships. Presenting a heightened version of yourself that will be palatable allow you to progress and hyper-focus on a goal. I can’t begin to tell you how many times I’ve hit the wall, allowed my hypersensitivity to get the better of me. I retreated into my safe space to avoid criticism, placed myself firmly in the background. It’s a negative way to live your life; as I look back, it feels like I talked myself into not living up to my potential, stepping tentatively and choosing not to be seen or heard. Picking entanglements that would hurt the least but feel the most just for a day or a night. It’s the most impulsive, self-destructive self-harm I could inflict upon myself. I want to love, but I’m afraid of love; I want to feel deeply, but I’m so scared to feel. I say the words, but those words don’t connect with me fully; I crave the dopamine hit, but it never lasts long enough.
I came across a book called Year of Yes by Shonda Rhimes; I say I came across it, but the truth is I started to watch Scandal, and when I discovered a Black woman created it, I needed to find out more. Olivia Pope was a woman/character I admired, powerful, fearless in control, and vulnerable and floored. I wanted to determine what made Shonda tick; I needed a role model to pull me to the next level because I was drowning in mediocrity and wanted to move forward. The year of Yes! Saying Yes to things I’d generally say no to, taking a chance and standing on a stage before I’d lost that annoying five stone; speaking up in a meeting, being heard and seen. It was a process to say Yes, Yes without a plan or a cushion to hide behind. This book changed my life; it opened up a part of me I’d buried deep it allowed me to move to the next stage. It allowed me to dream.
The year of Yes held me accountable for my actions and disengagement from emotions that left me vulnerable. It allowed me to hang my hopes on a mantra an invisible movement that had Shonda at the heart of it; her honesty about her journey, her vulnerability was something I could align to. I’ve come to realise that the year of Yes isn’t just something I can do for a year; it’s a destination I need to visit often. Saying Yes to being myself is the most critical journey I can embark on, not knowing what’s around the corner, dreaming and then putting those dreams into practice. Maybe on one of these journies, I can find the courage to say Yes to love and Yes to being unapologetically me.