Pivoting Away from Perfection

Survival Tip #3: Change Your Mind & Remake Yourself as Often as You Need

post-run pic of some geese on a Sonoma County lake

Content warning: this post will cover suicidal ideation -no harm was committed and self-harm will not be glorified or encouraged- but ideation of death will be discussed so if you are not in a place to read about this, please feel free to skip.

I took that picture in December, before I returned to Mexico after 24 years of being unable to (a trip which will get its own post at some point). At the time, I was spiraling about how I was on the verge of turning 35, still undocumented, very (involuntarily) unemployed, and about to endure another tr*mp presidency. If that wasn’t stressful enough, I was also having to figure out where I would be living come 2025 since my original housing plans had fallen through. My life, in short, looked like the meme below:

I was crying toad fighting them thoughts every day for the first half of December, processing what a doozy 2024 was and feeling sick about the uncertainty of 2025. To quickly recap, I was unexpectedly laid off from a job at an organization that I had found a political home in. While part of me had been contemplating a career move, my v practical capricorn stellium wanted to make the pivot on my terms (aka after I had secured a new, FT job with bennies). God/the Universe, however, had other plans and forced me to reckon with my burnout and desire to retire from the legal profession before I felt ready to. What I wasn’t expecting in this process was the overwhelming grief I would experience from walking away from a dream/life I had been working towards since I was a tween.

The grief I experienced was only compounded by the shame I felt about watching my mother and brother financially struggle. As an eldest daughter, as someone who has made her parents and community her raison d’être, I felt like a failure for not having more economic and professional stability that I could leverage on their behalf. I thought, at my big age with this v adult degree, I should be in a position to not only be ok for myself, but also to have enough to support my family. I should probably also have a home, but I have neither, and the crushing sense of failure I was experiencing was leading me to fantasize about dying.

If I died, I would not have to deal with these feelings of inadequacy.

If I died, I wouldn’t have to continue bearing witness to or being complicit in the systemic failures here and abroad.

If I died, I would cease to be a burden.

If I died, all of this would stop.

Reflecting back on the thoughts being played on loop in my brain makes me want to scoop 2024 me up and hug her so tightly that she farts out these ideations. It’s still painful to remember how inconsolable I was just a few weeks ago, but I think it’s important to share because I know that I’m not alone in experiencing this overwhelm.

To give my brain a break from the incessant beatdowns I was subjecting her to, I often went for runs and took some time to observe mother nature in all her glory. On the day I snapped that picture of those ducks on Spring Lake, I sat my ass down on a wooden bench, planted my feet firmly on the muddy ground, and just let my eyes wander.

I let myself be amazed by the simplicity and consistency of the changing seasons, at the fact that every year, regardless of who’s in office or what is happening in our individual lives, the leaves on the trees change colors, wither and then die. The trees don’t fight to keep the leaves alive, they simply lean in to God’s buzzcut knowing that in a few months, they’ll be sporting a new ‘do. As I marveled at nature’s ability to give in to these transitions, I thought about how different my life would be if I too could more seamlessly coexist with change.

I want to clarify that when I talk about change, I’m not talking about systemic injustice. I don’t think man-made oppression should ever be embraced or normalized. What I am saying is that unexpected and non-consensual changes such as being fired/laid off, getting sick, etc are often changes that I have let define me, as opposed to defining *that moment* as just that, a moment in a collection of moments that is otherwise known as my life.

Part of what made last year so difficult was not the change itself, but my attitude about the change and the expectations I had set for myself about who and what I should be at 35. Having a static and inflexible idea of what success, fulfillment, or connection should look like prevented me from appreciating the life and joy that was happening to and around me. I turned the godawful lay off into a three month sabbatical where I got to rest, take art classes, and explore my sexuality. I frolicked, tried pilates, and made new friends - all incredibly fulfilling and wonderful feats that in my grief, I was unable to appreciate and celebrate.

12 year old me thought I’d be the next Sonia Sotomayor, and I’m glad I gave her the space to cry about that unfulfilled dream, because now she gets to be proud of whatever 35 year old me is gonna be. As Natasha Bedingfield once sang, the rest is still unwritten, and in the year of our lord 2025, I am pivoting away from perfection and letting myself change my mind, change my hair, and remake myself as often as I need. I hope you will join me.

with love and LOLs,

Denia

P.S.: my friends and sweet brothers were also pivotal in helping me climb out of my self-hating hole. If you or someone you love is struggling, please do them or yourselves a kindness and reach out. We need each other now more than ever <3