The Invisible Black Woman

After group, I tried to decompress on my way home. To be honest, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to do a debrief. Angry and frustrated don’t even start to cover it. Your girl is mad, plain and simple. I won’t get into all the “whys” yet; maybe I’ll unpack that later. But here’s what went down the day after my sick day…

I started out looking forward to today’s session because last time was pretty solid, but by the time I actually showed up? The anger had set in. I missed yesterday because I was so sick—like “couldn’t-get-out-of-bed” sick—and hubby had to convince me to stay home. It was the right call; no way I could’ve made it through. But after being out a day, I came back with so much on my mind that everything felt off-kilter.

The morning set the tone: a consultation with an attorney who confirmed I have a case but hit me with the dreaded “but” … as in, “it’s going to cost a small fortune.” Ironic, right? I’d need money to pursue a claim that’s supposed to get me the funds I deserve. I know I have time to file with the EEOC (as in Equal Employment Opportunity Commission; more on that later), but that looming financial wall just piles onto the frustration. And when he suggested I could try to negotiate on my own? I laughed, but not in a “haha” way. Where are the “no win, no fee” attorneys for this?

So, I came to group with that weighing on me. My therapist, Carrie, is amazing and really helped me get some of this out when I had my one on one with her. Talking with her, I didn’t even get to half of what I planned to discuss. Sometimes, you just end up unloading and not even realizing how much you needed to until it’s happening. Just sitting with my uncertainty, wondering about long-term disability, wondering about what comes next, feeling out of step… it was helpful, but also heavy.

Group today was… something. We were wrapping up before the holidays, so it was a mixed bag of emotions. Melody started us off with a game of Music Jeopardy, pulling us in with old tunes, boy bands, movie themes—the kind of stuff that pulls you back and gets everyone laughing. It was the break we needed, at least for a few minutes.

Then, Nathan took over for the processing session. He doesn’t pull any punches, that’s for sure. His first question? “What’s a recent mistake you made?” The room went quiet. I wasn’t expecting such a deep dive right after Jeopardy, but hey, it’s therapy. A few people opened up, and the topic quickly got into mistakes, lessons learned, and self-acceptance. Nathan talked about “negativity bias”—how our minds tend to latch onto that one cringe moment and let the positive moments fade into the background.

That resonated with me. We can’t help but keep going back to the negative, even when we know it’s not the whole picture. He encouraged us to recognize our wins, however small they might be, and it clicked. I mean, I get it. But it’s a struggle sometimes, isn’t it? Especially when the big picture still feels heavy and uncertain.

I sat there, thinking about my own “big mistake,” which, if I’m honest, is sticking it out at a job that’s toxic enough to send me to the ER. But that nagging thought is there—what if the job wasn’t the problem? What if leaving wouldn’t solve it? That’s the tough part, right? Wherever you go, there you are. Would a new environment change anything, or is it me that has to change?

Then there’s this other layer in therapy, where you’re not just working through your own stuff but navigating the dynamics in the room. There’s always one person who takes up all the oxygen. And it’s not that their story isn’t valid—it absolutely is. It’s just that, for the rest of us, there’s this tension. It becomes this unspoken competition of who has it worse, and it’s exhausting. Therapy isn’t supposed to be a “pissing contest,” but sometimes, that’s how it feels.

It’s tricky. Trauma isn’t one-size-fits-all, and everyone’s pain deserves space. But I’ve found myself wondering if a more tailored approach would make a difference. Like, maybe if therapy sessions grouped people by what they’re dealing with, it’d feel a bit more balanced. As it is, sometimes I find myself holding back, questioning whether my challenges even “count” when stacked up against the intensity of others’ experiences.

And that’s the thing—it isn’t that my issues don’t matter. But it’s hard to feel okay taking up space when others are dealing with trauma that’s entirely different. I know everyone’s needs are valid, but it would be nice to feel like my struggle with toxic work environments and burnout can sit alongside someone else’s family struggles without feeling less “serious.”

If you’ve been in therapy, maybe you get it. Sometimes, it feels like a balancing act—wanting to share, but not wanting to overshadow anyone else or feel like your challenges don’t measure up. It’s real, and it’s complicated.

The whole session felt like a rollercoaster. When Nathan introduced positive affirmations, we each wrote our names on a piece of paper and passed it around for others to write something genuine and kind. The group finished off with a lot of laughter and lighter moments, but I’m leaving today feeling the weight of it all—both the highs and the lows.

So, I’m on my way home, still processing, knowing that I have a lot more to sift through. I don’t have it all figured out, but maybe that’s okay—for now…