Slipping and Shining

We’ve all had those moments of self doubt.

When we’ve asked ourselves the really important questions in life.

“Am I happy?”

“Can I succeed?”

“Will I make it through to the end?”

“Too much teeth?”

You know, the basics.


Some of these incisive questions can leave you wanting, wondering what’s going to happen next.

Not unlike passing a note in sixth grade, wringing your hands because you’re worried that you should’ve darkened the circle around “Maybe,” and more thoroughly erased the one around “No Way.”

(Oh, who am I kidding? That note was being returned to me. Bitch.)

But knowing a little snippet of paper is being printed off for me in the bowels of The Pink Slip Factory of Death packs more of a punch.

More so than I expected.


Now, I’m not saying that my job is fulfilling.

Or appreciated.

Or enjoyable.

I’m not saying that it hasn’t killed my work ethic.

Hasn’t driven me to drink on occasion.

I love my job! When I drink. (And Katie, thanks for the pic!)

Hasn’t made me question why I got an MA in a dying discipline.

But hey, let’s flip that coin.

After all, had it not been for this job, I would’ve never had the joyful motivation to pen this or that, or start this blog.

I would’ve never experienced the catharsis of email-slapping a sad sack of human flesh masquerading as a professional.


Now, back to that coin. Let’s give’er another flip.

Had it not been for this job, I wouldn’t have had to go into debt when this happened on the drive home from work:

Bye, Camry!

So that I could buy this to get back to work:


Only to have this happen to it two months later on the way to work:

Trixxy needs a nose job.

But, I also wouldn’t have moved to a small town closer to The Job, where I made amazing friends.

And I also wouldn’t have gotten so depressed by that small town’s lack of LGBT life that I’d decide to make a move for myself–to Raleigh.

Goodbye, Sanford. Hello, Raleigh.

So that I could ignite a long-held passion for LGBT activism.

Speaking Against NC's Amendment One

So that I could do something for the community.

Chosen family.

Nor would I have then gotten so overly involved with volunteer activities that I’d given up hope of meeting that guy, and was my most basest and stressed out self…

Eeeek. Hot mess. (Mona, thanks for capturing.)

…on the day I met him.

Captain Amazing

And my life changed forever.

My knight in shabby-chic armor


So. There you have it. The most flipped coin ever.

And as I snuffled and cried and stress ate a box of Thin Mints last night, Andy’s reassuring voice over the phone line reminded me that we’ll be fine.

Because we’ve already overcome so much. And we’ll get through much more.

And have plenty of time to realize just how much light this silver lining can reflect.

How we, too, can still shine.

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