Define.

Tomorrow, I will be asked the question: “What defines you?”

Seriously?

First of all, if you want to get to know me, then get to know me. Do the small talk thing. Put in the time. Put in the effort. Give yourself and me some grace because no matter what you ask, you’re not going to get to know me with a simple question, no matter it’s depth.

Especially since I will either lie or tell you half of what I’m thinking.

Because what defines me right now? My pain. My brokenness. What has shaped me? The shitty ways I’ve been treated by people I’ve loved. The passions that have been, and that I have, ripped from my life. My insecurities define me. And let me tell you- they are miles high. My fears shape me.

I can’t say any of that tomorrow. I can’t. I’m getting to know colleagues. So what will I say? What can I say? Describe my education? There’s so much pain there too! I don’t know what to do.

I sat in the back of that car and anxiety raced through my veins. And I begged myself to calm down because having a panic attack with my new boss in the front seat and my new co-worker by his side was not an option.

I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to describe myself. I’m blinded by my own pain.

I don’t know why I’m here. I don’t know why I thought I could do this. Oh my word, they’re all going to hate me. They’ll find out I’m a hypocrite. They’ll regret hiring me. I don’t know why I thought I could do this. Why do I have to get to know them? Can’t I just do my damn job and get on with it? Is that really too much to ask?

I swear if they try to make me go first, I will vehemently refuse.

-Melissa

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