Crowning Myself: Un-according to Plan
What lies ahead of me scares me -- despite all of those faux-inspirational tweets saying it should be a good, inspirational feeling instead.
I've always been the person to plan. I decided where I wanted to go to college at the age of 15, and did everything in my power to assure I would be here. I read the career trajectory of everyone in the journalism business who inspired me, and can probably tell you what Amy Dubois Barnett's Wikipedia page reads verbatim. Even the most seemingly simple decisions have come after gruesome planning, much to the surprise of others.
I could say planning comes to me as a "first nature" because I am ever-confident in my abilities. I could say I am sure of my very own trajectory and am merely acting on it. I could put together any flowery statement to describe my plans. All of these would smack me in the face with the full strength of lying karma.
I over-plan because of fear. Yeah, I said it.
I was and still am more than qualified to get into and be at Northwestern, Medill, literally the whole 9. But amid only-Black-girl-in-this-AP-class vibes and similar only-Black-girl-walking-down-Sheridan notions, I didn't actually see myself getting and fitting in. So the planning commenced. I can't count the amount of College Board and AP Central threads I've stalked and taken notes from. Can't let folks down. Gotta accomplish this.
But planning out of fear is only asking for disappointment, even if delayed. Many nights during freshman year, I sat at my desk and ironed out every summer of my college career. A note, still on my Macbook, reads:
"Summer after freshman year: JET, check!
DURING SOPHOMORE YEAR: Make sure you intern somewhere during the school year
Summer after sophomore year: Chicago Reporter or The Root or For Harriet
DURING JUNIOR YEAR: For Harriet or somewhere else
Summer after junior year: Essence Magazine or go back to JPC at Ebony. Then get hired."
"Planning out of fear is only asking for disappointment."
And it is probably through this instance of over planning that I have learned the hardest and best lessons. I remember riding on the L one day with a friend talking about futures. I told her about all of my dreams and aspirations, the communities I stan for, the people who media too often exploits, yadda yadda yadda. I told her where I really wanted to see myself, but I ended the melody with "...but, I don't know." And even after she grabbed my hand and explained, "girl, you've got talent," tears welled in the back of my eyes because I still didn't believe her. Or myself.
I never wholeheartedly have. So, while I planned and planned (and planned), in my mind, I failed and failed. After a whirlwind of a summer at a dream publication after my freshman year? Chile, you couldn't tell Sierra NOTHIN. I was on top of the world. Then, I came back to school and wrote an essay that gained almost seven thousand shares on Facebook, was being used to teach material in classrooms,and helped me gain 200 followers on Twitter. Months later, I received an internship offer at one of the most prominent brands in the field. This was my moment, it was the manifestation of all the worry and plan from years built up. Everything in the universe was on my side. And then...
I ran into a wall. Between tears, I had to type a dreaded denial letter to this huge brand. A week before I was scheduled to start. I planned and planned (and planned), but to no avail. I wasn't going - period. I had to go home, after telling all of my friends, my favorite professors, my beloved mentors, and (probably worst of all) Facebook. I failed. That summer ended up being one of the most fun times I've had to date, but it didn't matter. It didn't go along with the plan.
Junior year made sure to fall in line by foiling more of my plans. I worked too hard into a point of toxicity, and I didn't do a good job of being transparent in that (to my friends, here I'm finally admitting it). I did jobs that weren't mine to do out of fear and pride. I compromised myself for the greater good...but, if you end up hurt, can it truly be the greater good? (Spoiler alert: the answer is no). I stayed awake longer than I should have for causes that don't even matter to me anymore. I put that Superwoman 'S' on my chest and had to learn the hard way that Superwoman is a fictional character for a reason. The added shame of being the last among my friends to land an internship didn't help by any means. By the end of the school year, I was ready to finish for the sake of finishing. This led me to put all my eggs in the basket of depending on #Summer16 to bring me happiness.
The plan was to rock it out over the summer, gain unforgettable memories, and ultimately regain that lost peace & happiness. Again, I was more than qualified to kill things in the office, but if that were the only issue, I wouldn't be writing this right now. The expectations that I had set for myself and for the summer threw every bit self care out the window and pressed foot on the gas. Full speed ahead, I thought. Gotta be happy again.
And #Summer16 was great. I dyed my hair. I turned 21. I went on trips and ate brunches and lived the life I thought was necessary to bring back some vitality. And yet, the mark was missed. So the new conclusion was that I needed to go back home, to be away from the hustle and bustle of the busy city and settle into where I had lived most of my life. And yet, the mark was missed.
"This is about saying I have the juice and actually believing it."
So, here I am. In front of my laptop, adorned with with a head scarf and goldfish pajamas and pound cake crumbs, readying myself for senior year, and unable to plan. Unable to say "well, the next step is." Unable to bring forth anything productivity embodying my worth. But you know what? I haven't failed. Missed a mark? Maybe. In a fuzzy state of mind? Yes. (Thanks, Mercury retrograde) But baby, this girl is no failure. Over-planning because of fear has failed me. It always has; I'm just wising up to it now.
Are there beautiful things lined up for me? Hell yes! I'm on the freaking Homecoming Court. I'm going to Argentina almost completely on the school's dime. My name, face and work are in an inaugural magazine!
But none of this came to be by attempts to over-compensate insecurities with anxiety-filled planning. This is about glo'ing up beyond its fashionable, Twitter-worthy fame. This is about saying I have the juice and actually believing it. This is about standing in my truths, up to my fears, and out on faith. My new "plan"? To live.
Let's see how this goes.
Until next time,
XoXo
-Si
I've always been the person to plan. I decided where I wanted to go to college at the age of 15, and did everything in my power to assure I would be here. I read the career trajectory of everyone in the journalism business who inspired me, and can probably tell you what Amy Dubois Barnett's Wikipedia page reads verbatim. Even the most seemingly simple decisions have come after gruesome planning, much to the surprise of others.
I could say planning comes to me as a "first nature" because I am ever-confident in my abilities. I could say I am sure of my very own trajectory and am merely acting on it. I could put together any flowery statement to describe my plans. All of these would smack me in the face with the full strength of lying karma.
I over-plan because of fear. Yeah, I said it.
I was and still am more than qualified to get into and be at Northwestern, Medill, literally the whole 9. But amid only-Black-girl-in-this-AP-class vibes and similar only-Black-girl-walking-down-Sheridan notions, I didn't actually see myself getting and fitting in. So the planning commenced. I can't count the amount of College Board and AP Central threads I've stalked and taken notes from. Can't let folks down. Gotta accomplish this.
 |
| Hey look, it me. |
But planning out of fear is only asking for disappointment, even if delayed. Many nights during freshman year, I sat at my desk and ironed out every summer of my college career. A note, still on my Macbook, reads:
"Summer after freshman year: JET, check!
DURING SOPHOMORE YEAR: Make sure you intern somewhere during the school year
Summer after sophomore year: Chicago Reporter or The Root or For Harriet
DURING JUNIOR YEAR: For Harriet or somewhere else
Summer after junior year: Essence Magazine or go back to JPC at Ebony. Then get hired."
"Planning out of fear is only asking for disappointment."
And it is probably through this instance of over planning that I have learned the hardest and best lessons. I remember riding on the L one day with a friend talking about futures. I told her about all of my dreams and aspirations, the communities I stan for, the people who media too often exploits, yadda yadda yadda. I told her where I really wanted to see myself, but I ended the melody with "...but, I don't know." And even after she grabbed my hand and explained, "girl, you've got talent," tears welled in the back of my eyes because I still didn't believe her. Or myself.
I never wholeheartedly have. So, while I planned and planned (and planned), in my mind, I failed and failed. After a whirlwind of a summer at a dream publication after my freshman year? Chile, you couldn't tell Sierra NOTHIN. I was on top of the world. Then, I came back to school and wrote an essay that gained almost seven thousand shares on Facebook, was being used to teach material in classrooms,
 |
| This happened. |
I ran into a wall. Between tears, I had to type a dreaded denial letter to this huge brand. A week before I was scheduled to start. I planned and planned (and planned), but to no avail. I wasn't going - period. I had to go home, after telling all of my friends, my favorite professors, my beloved mentors, and (probably worst of all) Facebook. I failed. That summer ended up being one of the most fun times I've had to date, but it didn't matter. It didn't go along with the plan.
Junior year made sure to fall in line by foiling more of my plans. I worked too hard into a point of toxicity, and I didn't do a good job of being transparent in that (to my friends, here I'm finally admitting it). I did jobs that weren't mine to do out of fear and pride. I compromised myself for the greater good...but, if you end up hurt, can it truly be the greater good? (Spoiler alert: the answer is no). I stayed awake longer than I should have for causes that don't even matter to me anymore. I put that Superwoman 'S' on my chest and had to learn the hard way that Superwoman is a fictional character for a reason. The added shame of being the last among my friends to land an internship didn't help by any means. By the end of the school year, I was ready to finish for the sake of finishing. This led me to put all my eggs in the basket of depending on #Summer16 to bring me happiness.
 |
| An action photo of me (left) finishing junior year. |
And #Summer16 was great. I dyed my hair. I turned 21. I went on trips and ate brunches and lived the life I thought was necessary to bring back some vitality. And yet, the mark was missed. So the new conclusion was that I needed to go back home, to be away from the hustle and bustle of the busy city and settle into where I had lived most of my life. And yet, the mark was missed.
"This is about saying I have the juice and actually believing it."
So, here I am. In front of my laptop, adorned with with a head scarf and goldfish pajamas and pound cake crumbs, readying myself for senior year, and unable to plan. Unable to say "well, the next step is." Unable to bring forth anything productivity embodying my worth. But you know what? I haven't failed. Missed a mark? Maybe. In a fuzzy state of mind? Yes. (Thanks, Mercury retrograde) But baby, this girl is no failure. Over-planning because of fear has failed me. It always has; I'm just wising up to it now.
Are there beautiful things lined up for me? Hell yes! I'm on the freaking Homecoming Court. I'm going to Argentina almost completely on the school's dime. My name, face and work are in an inaugural magazine!
But none of this came to be by attempts to over-compensate insecurities with anxiety-filled planning. This is about glo'ing up beyond its fashionable, Twitter-worthy fame. This is about saying I have the juice and actually believing it. This is about standing in my truths, up to my fears, and out on faith. My new "plan"? To live.
Let's see how this goes.
 |
| N!&&@, naaaah |
Until next time,
XoXo
-Si
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