I was depressed on New Year's Eve. I did the whole
celebration with my parents and my little brother while my little sister and
boyfriend spent the holiday in two different states at two different colleges.
I walked to my room, closed the door and cried.
WHAT THE HELL WAS I DOING WITH MY LIFE?
In that moment I
realized, my parents were getting old, my sister was not even living at home,
and I was damn near grown eating cereal in my pajamas at midnight. My childhood
was over. On New Year’s Day at 21 years old, it finally hit
me that I was an adult. I was an adult who hadn’t accomplished anything significant in the year
2015. I was sad, but I didn’t know how to be happy. I felt stuck.
Fast forward to four months later to my 22nd
birthday. I decided to celebrate myself and invite people to a birthday dinner.
Naturally, my fat ass invited everyone to a buffet. Yass! OMG, I just got
hungry thinking about it. Anyway, I cried that day too! I looked around
the table at the people that showed up and realized, three of these
people were my cousins, one was my guy best friend, and the rest of them were
just there (not counting all the "friends" that RSVP'd but didn't bother to show up). I hadn’t built any real genuine friendships with these
people. None of them were with me through the worst parts of the past year. No
one had seen me cry and, on the other hand, no one shared any inside jokes with
me. So I cried after my birthday dinner.
I was frustrated. Damn! My 20s were supposed to be poppin’ –
literally! I was supposed to be at a club with my best girlfriends, spending
money from my good ass job and poppin’ bottles to get drunk
and pass out on the couch in my apartment. But no! I spent my birthday the
exact same way I spent my New Years – in my bedroom, at my parent’s house,
scrolling through Facebook and wiping tears from my face as I compared my life to those of my peers.
PATHETIC.
I asked myself, “so when is this successful part of my life
supposed to happen?” When I was 18, I remember thinking that when I turned 22,
I would be the shit. I would be in a fancy ass apartment, with a nice job that
required me to wear nice shoes, and I would have my own business. Ha! Funny.
How was I supposed to do that? When was that supposed to happen?
By the time I turned 22, I was working at two amazing and fulfilling part-time jobs. I
worked at the Boys and Girls Club with high school students where I advised and
wrote curriculum for the Black Student Union. At my other job, I worked as a social media
coordinator at a non-profit organization. I was also attending class full time at a
college for working adults. Pretty good. I eventually made business cards with
my titles from both jobs. I was giving them out like a proud momma until one
day, it hit me! I am not my jobs! I was not Shanell McCoy, Social Media Coordinator or Shanell McCoy, Program Assistant. Was that it? Was that as far as
I was supposed to go? Who was I?
I realized, I spent so much time working and dedicating
myself to my jobs and school, that I lost sight of Shanell McCoy, Dope Ass Woman! I told myself that my title was not about to be defined by my temporary
college jobs. On top of that, my time was not going to be dedicated to to just
working and sleeping. I was working so hard and still not even making enough
money to rent a studio apartment in the hood. I wasn’t focused on anything, I
spread myself way too thin, and I was exhausted. And forget about building
genuine friendships. Sorry friends? Who? Bitch where?
SO WHOOP, THERE IT IS.
I decided to quit one of my jobs. I
also switched my major. I made the decision to focus on me. Forget about
everyone’s expectations of what I should or shouldn’t be doing. I was ready for
a drastic change. I owed it to myself to explore my talents and my potential.
And damn it! I deserved to be in my 20s and stay up passed 10 p.m. with no
obligations to rush to work in the morning.
Since I quit one of my jobs, I deactivated my Facebook.
Sorry fake ass Facebook “friends” I no longer make statuses about bull shit
and my emotions. My Facebook now is literally a book - a journal. I’ve also started concentrating on my music, this blog, and my
side hustle as a social media consultant. I even signed up for a documentary
fellowship where I am working on producing a short documentary on systemic racism
and relationships. Most importantly, I’ve mastered the art of a power nap. Old
Shanell would have said, “What the hell is a nap?” Yes, baby girl, naps are the
shit.
Focusing on myself, rather than on a million other things, is new for me. I'm learning not to pile up responsibilities, embrace the present, and plan for my future. With this new attitude, I’ll be
looking back at the year with a smile. No more tears on New Year's!
