The Invisible Black Woman

Week 3’s officially on the books, and with it came a quiet realization: small steps matter. They may not seem like much at first—tiny, almost unnoticeable shifts—but add them up, and you’ll see movement. That’s what this week felt like: forward momentum. From symbolic actions to speaking up when I didn’t plan to, I found myself letting go of the old and making space for what’s next.

All right, so here we are once again. Today was the last day of Week 3. I had it in my head that it was Week 4, but it was Week 3, y’all. Whew. Next week will make it a month, and I’m guessing the reason this is Week 3 is because, one, I didn’t start on Tuesday. I started on Wednesday or Thursday—I’m not 100% sure which day—but it wasn’t on a Tuesday. Also, I missed one day, so I think when they tally up the sessions, I’m only at nine sessions, which makes three weeks. So, even though I attended the tail end of Week 1, it doesn’t go by weeks. It goes by sessions, if that makes sense.

Today was my one-on-one with my therapist. It went really well, and I felt like I was in pretty high spirits. For a lot of reasons, but to name a few: one, I feel like I’ve made really good progress on my home business. I’ve been working on my website, and it’s almost finished. I’m really excited about that. Two, I feel like I’ve hit my stride with the writing page I manage on Facebook. I created it a while ago, and now it’s gaining some good traction with consistent engagement.

Even if I don’t get the timeframe right for posting, I’m showing up every day. That gives me a huge sense of purpose that’s not tied to my work. It’s tied to my writing, which I feel is where my purpose lies because it’s my gift. I finally feel like I’m hitting my stride. The rhythm of posting content, pairing it with the right images, and seeing engagement—it’s encouraging. Especially as I push to do this full-time.

It’s encouraging to see that I’m heading in the right direction.

I also spoke to one of the attorneys I’d reached out to before the holidays. I’ve been shopping around for an attorney to close this chapter at my current job. Most attorneys want a lot of money up front, and one thing you learn when you’re in this situation is that attorneys are not cheap.

I’d been looking for one who works on contingency, where they get paid based on what I make. This attorney reached out to me—unsolicited—and offered to knock their fee down to $500 as a flat fee and then 33% contingency. I thought, “That’s something I can live with and manage.”

Because, honestly, 33% of money I don’t have is still better than 0%. So I said yes. They sent me a contract, but I have a few questions before I sign, and I’m waiting to hear back. Hopefully, I’ll hear back tomorrow because I want to move forward, assuming everything checks out. If not, I’ll keep shopping.

The point is, I’m not going to stress about it. I’ll find the right attorney.

Also, I did two small but significant things this weekend that symbolized I’m really done with this job. I took my parking tag off my car and I clicked “Leave Organization” on a software account that was tied to my work email.

It seems minor, but it felt symbolic. I told my therapist that I’ve gone from a “trial separation” to, “Oh, this is really happening. I’m moving out, and we’re getting a divorce.”

It reminded me of when people change their relationship status on Facebook from “married” to “it’s complicated” or “single.” It’s like I’ve officially taken off the ring.

Also, I turned my LinkedIn back on. When I first went on leave, I hibernated my account because I was getting overwhelmed. People who hadn’t been checking for me were suddenly reaching out, and it was too much. Hibernating the account gave me peace.

But now, I’ve turned it back on and started actively job hunting, which is another step forward. Job hunting on LinkedIn makes it feel real.

So yeah, those are three big things I’ve done: taking off the parking tag, leaving the software organization, and reactivating LinkedIn. They’re small actions, but they represent real movement.

In today’s group session, I spoke up during processing. I didn’t plan to, but I did.

I shared that I felt like I was in a good place. I also told the group that being there hasn’t been easy for me. It’s been a steep learning curve, and I’ve found it intimidating. Listening to everyone else’s stories sometimes made me feel like my problems weren’t as serious as theirs.

The response surprised me. People noticed.

One group member said, “It’s nice to see you coming out of your shell.” I didn’t think anyone cared whether I spoke or not. Another person pulled me aside and said, “You’re doing so much better. You’re really making progress.”

It was encouraging.

Later, I had a one-on-one chat with a group member about grief. I told him, “People say it gets easier, but that’s not true. It never gets easier—you just learn how to carry it differently.” I compared it to losing a limb. You don’t “get over it.” You just learn to live with it.

He said, “You’re so right.”

It was a meaningful moment. Sometimes the things we tell others are exactly what we need to hear ourselves.

Today felt like a breakthrough. Not because of one big thing, but because of all the small steps that added up: progress with my writing, moving forward with the attorney, symbolically detaching from my job, and finally speaking up in group.

I’m trusting that the right doors will open, and I’m not going to stress about it. There’s no job worth your health, sanity, or peace of mind. That’s where I am now.

Until next time, I wish you nothing but sunshine, rainbows, and unicorns, which are no less fictitious than the determined you are.