The Invisible Black Woman

There’s a difference between showing up and being seen. Between existing and actually living. And one of the hardest lessons I’ve learned in corporate America is this: you can’t thrive in a space where all you’re doing is holding your breath, waiting for the next blow.

Thriving isn’t about being the last one standing at the end of another impossible week. Thriving isn’t measured in how many back-to-back meetings you endure without falling apart. Thriving isn’t surviving on caffeine, anxiety, and a thin thread of hope that maybe this week will be different.

That’s survival. And survival will wear you down until you forget what thriving even feels like.

When you’re in survival mode, your creativity shrinks. You don’t dream big because you’re too busy ducking low. You don’t advocate for yourself because you’re afraid of rocking a boat that already feels like it’s sinking. You don’t build the relationships that could help you soar, because all your energy is spent just making it through the day.

Survival strips away the joy of the journey. It makes every morning a negotiation with yourself. Do I have it in me to go back in there? Can I put the mask on again? Can I play the part they expect of me?

And when you’re in that state long enough, you start to confuse survival with success. You start to believe that exhaustion is just the cost of excellence, that stress is proof of dedication. It’s not. It’s proof that you’re running on fumes in a place that doesn’t feed you.

Thriving isn’t the absence of work. Thriving isn’t easy street. Thriving is doing hard things with energy left over at the end of the day to still feel like you.

When you’re thriving, you don’t just clock in. You bring your whole self. Your ideas stretch bigger. Your laughter is louder. Your presence is fuller. And the difference is felt not only by you, but by everyone around you.

Thriving looks like balance, boundaries, and belonging. It looks like working in an environment where your voice matters, your contributions are respected, and your humanity is never negotiable.

Thriving looks like being able to rest without guilt, celebrate without apology, and create without fear.

So, the real question isn’t “How do I thrive?” The real question is “Why am I still choosing survival?”

Sometimes it’s fear. Fear of starting over. Fear of losing security. Fear of not being enough outside the walls that have been draining you dry.

Sometimes it’s hope. Hope that if you just hang in a little longer, things will change. That leadership will finally see your worth. That the culture will magically shift. That survival will someday transform into thriving if you just endure.

But here’s the truth: survival doesn’t turn into thriving on its own. You have to choose it. You have to decide you’re worth more than just making it.

Choosing thriving might mean setting boundaries so firm they shock people who’ve been used to walking all over them. It might mean leaving a title that looks good on LinkedIn but costs you your peace. It might mean stepping into something uncertain, because what’s certain is slowly suffocating you.

Choosing thriving means betting on yourself, even when the odds look stacked. It means trusting that life is too short to stay where you’re tolerated but not celebrated, where you’re surviving but not thriving.

It’s not easy. It takes courage to step away from survival, especially when survival is what you’ve mastered. But thriving is worth it. You’re worth it.

Because at the end of the day, this isn’t just about work. It’s about your health, your relationships, your joy, and your legacy.

You can’t thrive where you’re just trying to survive. And you deserve to thrive.

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