The Invisible Black Woman

You can love what you do. You can be amazing at it. You can give it your all. And still, you do not owe a single piece of your well-being to your workplace.

Let’s be clear: the whispers in your spirit, the tightness in your chest, the Sunday dread that builds before the sun even sets? That’s not ambition. That’s erosion. Slow, quiet erosion of the self.

Some of us were taught to push through. Show up anyway. Be grateful. Don’t rock the boat. And those teachings? They worked—for survival. But not for thriving.

The modern workplace is not built to save you. It is built to consume what you’re willing to offer. And if you are offering everything—your joy, your peace, your sleep, your boundaries—then one day you’ll wake up hollow, wondering when exactly the light started dimming.

Jobs come and go. Titles fade. Managers change. But your health? Your peace? Your sanity? That’s non-refundable.

There are folks sitting in plush offices with big titles and bigger paychecks who left you hanging in the hallway. You bent over backwards to prove you were team player, and they used your flexibility to contort you into shapes you were never meant to hold. Just because you can doesn’t mean you should.

And before you second-guess: yes, it’s okay to want more. To need more. To expect more. It’s not “ungrateful” to say the benefits aren’t benefiting you if they come with burnout. It’s not “unprofessional” to opt out of the cycle of exhaustion masked as excellence. It’s survival. It’s reclamation.

You owe yourself a life that doesn’t require recovery every single evening.

You owe yourself joy without justification.

You owe yourself a version of success that doesn’t leave you emotionally bankrupt.

No, they’re not going to understand. Some people are so conditioned to normalize suffering that they’ll look at you like you’re the problem when you finally choose yourself. Let them.

You are not required to explain your exits. You don’t have to earn your rest. You don’t need permission to prioritize your peace.

The job can be amazing on paper and still be killing you in real life.

And if it is?

Walk away. Or plan your exit with intention. Either way, your life—your full, beautiful, worthy life—is too valuable to waste in a place that sees you as dispensable.

So the next time you’re asked to stay late, again…

The next time you’re left out of the promotion conversation, again…

The next time you feel like screaming in your car before clocking in…

Ask yourself: Is this job worth my ruin?

And if the answer is no, you already know what to do.

Protect your peace. Prioritize your wholeness.

Because you are the most valuable benefit you’ve got.

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