SEEKING SHELTER FROM THE STORM
Dear Diary,
As I sit here sipping my morning java after an eventful day of grueling communication, I'm taking a moment to reflect. While I am sickened by the erratic and unprofessional behaviors by some women in business, I'm forced to believe life is simply prepping me for what is to come. As I digest and breakdown the fuel that once motivated me to be "The Best" at what I do, the window of opportunity feels more like a door to a dark and dreary swamp where condescending, irrational, obtuse and ruthless women reside-- ready, willing and able to rip her fellow sister to shreds and drown them in a sea of insults. I find myself swimming to the top desperately awaiting to catch my breath.
The sun beats down on my face as I stand before the fear and insecurity that lives inside a troubled woman trying to get ahead, until I become baffled by her spearhead that feels like a xenoestrogen poison disrupting the equilibrium of my frail frame, until I'm jolted back to reality and think, "Would she treat a MAN like this?" A businessman would never put up with this shit.
How much crap from our fellow businesswoman colleagues are we willing to put up with? And are these so called "women business leaders" climbing the ladder just another round of watered down cheap cocktails keeping our heads spinning; only to leave us stumbling to the kitchen for that unhealthy midnight snack, a stomach-churning hangover, and a few less bucks in our wallets? That toxic hangover is incredibly intense; so intense that praying to the porcelain Gods sounds like more fun and less painful than the ridicule and abuse of the fear-driven woman entrepreneur. I just might need to embrace the sober life, for if I don't it just might kill me and my dreams.
“That toxic hangover is incredibly intense; so intense that praying to the porcelain Gods sounds like more fun and less painful than the ridicule and abuse of the fear-driven woman entrepreneur. ”
She says she's already SO successful, but there appears to be a convenient dash of dishonesty enlodged in her story. In fact, this slew of egotistical women are ready to draw blood with their cat claws in this trivial game of pussycat and mouse on a virtual playground that's leaving war wounds on my spirit. A prideful email, a harsh tone, a narcissistic-- even patronizing selection of words that showcases her desire for superiority can speed up any woman's heartbeat, even lead her to tears when she is the target of another woman's fear...
A Word On Sensitivity.
Let's face it, I'm sensitive. My feelings get hurt just like the rest of us and I'll even raise my hand high and admit my feelings probably get hurt more frequently than the average feminine leader out there, but I'm not a man nor am I a quitter. I'd like to see sensitivity as a gift (and not some it's-that-time-of-the-month slap in the face), yet with every gift there are its challenges.
sensitive |ˈsensitiv| adjective
quick to detect or respond to slight changes, signals, or influences
The ability to detect abuse of any kind is high on my barometer and it sends my internal seasons through an emotional tornado and like Bob Dylan says, I'm "seeking shelter from the storm." What I'm discovering is that shelter personified are actually beautifully wrapped friendships that protect the sanctuary from unruly weather.
“The ability to detect abuse of any kind is high on my barometer and it sends my internal seasons through an emotional tornado and like Bob Dylan says, I’m “seeking shelter from the storm.””
Friendship to me is what has kept me alive all these years, the backbone to my aspirations and my strength when the going gets ugly. I can't count on all my toes and fingers how many times a true friend has picked me up, dusted me off, and showed me how incredible I am at my job. In fact, they are the roots that continue to help nurture the growth of Holistic Fashionista, for without them, this horticulturist behind the brand slowly decays from the side effects of sensitivity. I know, I am her.
Am I proud to be sensitive, probably not. Is it a gift? Perhaps. Do I know there is a greater understanding behind the chaos that lives inside a sensitive soul? Absolutely. That understanding is friendship. Good old fashioned, stick-with-you-to-the-end, loyal confidante who won't judge you, won't abandon you, won't speak to you like a condescending bitch. Instead she will help you see the magic and lessons that are presented before you paving the path to your next great invention and the bigger roles awaiting behind that iron curtain.
Yesterday I took the first step towards eliminating and uninviting drama into my sensitive world by choosing the hit the "Spam" button and proceeding quickly to empty the spam folder. Maybe it's just a a small step towards preserving my dreams, but it's a big step towards being a role model whom I would admire.
Love,
Angel
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