The phrase silence is deafening feels like it should be wrong, but it’s not. Noise from within - implanted by an always-on society, clouds my mind. And here I am, sitting in silence, basking in the warmth of the sun, while being protected from the infamous Chicago wind.

Seven days ago, I quit my job.

Was it planned? Kinda.
Did I have a plan? Not really.

For forever and 500 days, I have wanted to open a consultancy. For a length of time only a few days shorter than the one previously mentioned, I swirled, swayed, and swooned over the value proposition, the color scheme, the logo — all the shit that doesn’t really matter.

One day, I woke up and thought about who I am as a human being — the value I bring to the world by simply being. This writing is less about quitting my job or the plan thereafter and more about worth, purpose, and humanity.

For as long as I have read a history book, extraction has been the source of wealth for this country and many others. My mind was imprinted early, reminding me that my history started with extraction (slavery), that I was only valued for the melons I carried (catcalling on NYC streets), for the deliverable that was late before I even knew about it or how to do it (corporate life). Every crack, crevice, and corner feels primed to remind me that my existence is not for me, but for everything around me. My sustenance is not for thriving and nourishing. It is to keep me alive enought for the next extraction point.

There are so many theories about imposter syndrome. I will not recount them here. Here is what I know to be true, the extractors and those who would have you believe you are not worthy are scared as shit. Your brilliance is so damn bright, the best thing they can do is lie to you and tell you that your brilliance is their radiance you should be thankful to exist within.

Every day, the manipulation of your brilliance occurs in the slow, quiet policing of your mind — the twisted reminder that you should hate yourself and others who look like you, keeping you busy with a standard of beauty that is so basic no one ever, ever tries to replicate it. It’s pushed on us, not desirous — peep the difference.

They say you run out of fucks at 50. I birthed the last fuck to give at 49, shedding every layer of foolishness and literally danced my way into 50.

You’re reading this and you are:
• Not 50 yet and ran out of fucks — what to do? Nothing. You’re in a happy place.
• 50 or over and happy someone else has shared your sentiment with the world.

In either case, I ask you this:

How have you protected your soul from extraction today?
Have you honored and named your brilliance out loud?
Did you tell yourself you love yourself — the way you think, move, dance, smile, simply exist in this world?

An ocean does not ask to be vast, great, or overwhelming. It does not worry about being too much, overtaking, or lulling you to sleep. A mountain simply exists — snowcapped or lush — it simply is.

And so are you, my loving human.

May this be a reminder to:
• Leave the container that does not nourish you (notice I didn’t say feed).
• If you have fucks to give, save them for those who matter.
• Know that you are imperfectly perfect and brilliant as you are.

I started this by telling you I quit my job with no plan. Why, you ask? Because I absolutely love myself — and I hope you do too.

Acts of self-love aren’t bubble baths and spa appointments (though I do love a good spa day). I’ve come to learn that soul protection — aka self-love — is reading, standing up for yourself even when your voice trembles. Soul protection is resisting in your home instead of the street.

In this world, there is more beauty than not, more love than hate, more peace than war — despite what your IG feed delivers. I am not advocating that everyone run out and quit their job (although that could also be a form of resistance).

I am asking you to sit in the silence that feels deafening and allow your soul to breathe a moment — to feel, cry, scream, smile, dance, and love itself to a place of wholeness.

If you’re new here, I write from the edges of transformation, unlearning, and human development. My eternal wish is for my writing to inspire, protect, and serve as a balm to the many souls (including my own) who may need it.

Unlearning in love,
J