Tale of Two Lives

Welcome, lovelies and beau’s, to another New Beginnings & Transformations post! Today, I want to take you on a deeply personal journey—one that changed everything for me. This story is about more than just a single moment; it’s a reflection of the challenges, revelations, and growth that shaped me into the person I am today. It wasn’t easy—it was a path full of self-discovery, setbacks, and triumphs. But through it all, I found clarify, strength, and purpose. My hope is that as you read, you’ll find pieces of yourself in this story and feel inspired to embrace your own transformation.

How can I encapsulate the journey of who I was to who I’ve become? It’s not an easy task, but I’ll start by focusing on the pivotal experiences and events of 2024. While one year doesn’t define my entire existence, 2024 was the year that shifted everything for me. It was a turning point, one that divided my life into two distinct halves. The first half, from January through June, felt like a buildup—a slow, unraveling of the old me. Then, July through December, everything transformed. Each half of the year brought its own challenges, lessons, and moments of clarity that I’ll delve into here.

At the start of the year, life was going okay. I was dating someone I’d known since high school for a few months by then, and things felt steady. During the holidays, I had shared my board game, Sleighing the Way, with my family, and then, I was excited to share it with him too. One evening, while we played the game together, he introduced me to the movie Coco. If you haven’t seen it yet, I can’t recommend it enough. It’s centered around Día de los Meurtos, or the Day of the Dead celebrations, and it completely moved me to tears. The story follows a young boy who accidentally enters the land of the dead during the celebrations, switching places with one of the deceased. What unfolds is a race against time to return to his former life before the festivities end. Along the way, he uncovers profound lessons about himself, his family, and what truly matters. It is such a sappy story.

Then, about a week later, I was out having brunch with a good friend of mine—a day that has since become an inside joke between us. The brunch turned into a bit of a comedy of errors. We waited longer than expected for a table, only for the staff to forget about us once we were seated. After it had been a little over an hour, we found another server aside from our own, to let them know we were finally ready to order. Then, my friend, who has dietary restrictions, had her order completely messed up, leaving her waiting even longer for her food. Despite all the hiccups, the staff was incredibly kind and apologetic, even surprising us with dessert on the house. What began as a chaotic experience ended on a sweet note—literally.

While my friend and I were out together, I received a text from the guy I was seeing. He wanted to make things official and asked me to be his girlfriend. I decided to wait until later that evening when I returned home to respond, but of course, I said yes! However, after nearly three weeks of officially dating, we still hadn’t spent any time together. I did my best to coordinate plans that worked for the both of us, but each time, something would come up on his end. It began to feel like he was no longer interested. Eventually, I decided to address it directly. I sent him a text explaining that I was looking for a partner who was willing to compromise—someone who would make an effort to spend time with me both at my place and at his home. At that point, a big change was on the horizon for me: I was about to start working remotely. I let him know this could potentially impact the time we might spend together, but I also made it clear that I was still open to making things work. Unfortunately, nearly a year later, and I still haven’t heard back from him.

His inaction was both hurtful and disappointing. I truly believed we had a solid friendship, but in the blink of an eye—and without a single word exchanged—it was over. To make matters worse, he removed me from his social media, leaving me feeling more confused than anything. I couldn’t help but wonder: What happened? What went wrong that he couldn’t even communicate his feelings? Still, I made the choice not to dwell on the situation. Instead, I focused on the things I could control. Though I had to work through the hurt and confusion, life was moving quickly, and there were many changes demanding my attention. My position, which I had hoped to keep in-office, officially became remote. A family member, who had been in and out of the hospital the previous year, found themselves back in a similar cycle, and I was doing my best to support them—by visiting and taking care of their errands. On top of that, I was navigating my own personal stuff. After multiple visits to try to narrow it down, the outcome wasn’t what I hoped for. I thought I would receive clearer answers than I had.

As one situation began to improve while I was adjusting to working remotely, I found myself utterly exhuasted—mentally, emotionally, and physically. I was constantly on the go, taking care of others, helping with their needs, and stretching myself far too thin. My support system during this time was minimal. My family was often busy or away on vacation, and when they did step in to help, it was only for a few hours at a time. My friends, too, were caught up in their own lives, leaving little time for phone calls, video chats, or even timely responses to texts. Life felt overwhelming, chaotic, and isolating. For a while, things were just plain hard. It eventually reached a point where I had to inform my employer that I was caring for a family member, in the event something happened.

Although my work performance remained steady, my life felt as though it was no longer my own. What made it even harder was that it seemed like no one truly cared. When family members checked in, it was almost always to ask how the family member I was caring for was doing—not how I was holding up. My sense of importance within the family seemed to diminish, leaving me feeling unseen and undervalued. At the same time, I began to realize that my friendships were no longer reciprocal. When my friends went through tough times, I did my best to be there for them—checking in, offering support, and trying to help in any way I could. But when the roles were reversed, that same care and attention rarely came my way. It was isolating, and the weight of it all started to take its toll.

To help adapt to the many shifts in my life, including working remotely, I chose to maintain my usual routine by waking up at the same time every day. Without the burden of a long commute, I discovered I had time for a morning walk or run, which quickly became a refreshing start to my day. There’s something undeniably beautiful about crisp, quiet mornings. I also found myself with the time to prepare a fuller, more satisfying breakfast than I ever could before. In the evenings, right after work, I made it a habit to take another walk. Gradually, it felt as though everything was falling into place. Despite the hurdles I was still facing in life, I began to feel happier than ever. The experience turned out to be a blessing in disguise, sparking a new sense of inspiration and joy in my daily routine.

Though there were still concerns. At the time, I was dealing with subtle threats, strange messages, a persistent curiosity of my living situation, and the challenge of navigating all these new and overwhelming scenarios in my life. It was a stark constrast to how things used to be. Just a couple of years ago, I would boast about how incredible my support system was—how amazing my family and friends were and how truly lucky I felt to have them. But it was as if something had shifted, something I couldn’t quite understand. Until one night, everything changed.

Then, out of the blue, I lost my job. A place where I had worked for nearly three years—a mere 10 days before my anniversary. It was one of the things that remained consistent. Coming into work, an had an idea of what to expect. At that job, I worked as a Customer Service Representative handling collections in a call center environment within the Logistics and Transportation field. During my time there, I learned so much—from the position and my colleagues, I had the chance to interact with some of the sweetest customers, and I grew my confidence. It felt like I had found my niche in the world—my passion. Each day brought new challenges which made it different and interesting. But just like that, it was gone. Poof! To say I was left in a state of shock was an understatement.

It was one of life’s many reminders: within life are lessons, opportunities for growth, and chances for new beginnings. By this point, I had learned several valuable lessons, but the most important one was that I could only truly rely on myself. When it came down to it, I realized I had to be there for me. This truth became especially clear when my family and friends let me down in my time of need. That experience alone taught me to become my own best friend. I came to the conclusion that I can’t control how others choose to respond, their actions that they feel are necessary, or their inaction. By accepting this, it helped me shift my focus inward. I realized that prioritizing myself wasn’t selfish but essential. For example, if I push myself to the point of exhaustion, I won’t have the energy or ability to show up for others in the ways I want to. This understanding made me more intentional about maintaining balance in my life.

Another important lesson I learned was the value of open communication. After a significant relationship ended early on, I realized I could no longer accept vague, unclear exchanges. As adults, particularly in relationships, we should be able to, even if not always perfectly, communicate our intentions, limitations, or unhappiness. It shouldn’t fall on others to guess or carry the weight of unresolved issues. With this in mind, I started addressing concerns as soon as possible. Growing up, I had often struggled to express myself, especially with my emotions, but this was something I began consciously working on once the relationship ended. I knew I didn’t want others to feel as I was made to feel.

And lastly, I learned that when one door closes, another one inevitably opens. As Heba Nazar so beautifully said, “There is power in ending. It takes you to the beginnings of what it meant for you.”

Little did I know what life had in store for me next on this journey of life. To hear more, check back next Monday, January 20th, for the latest post in the New Beginnings & Transformations Series. Until then, I wish you a wonderful, warm, and safe week. Sending prayers to all who are dealing with the fires in California, those still recovering from the hurricane in the Carolinas, and anyone else who may be struggling right now.

As a signature of my blog, I like to end each post with a suggestion to “Pass on kindness”. There is no such time as the present to Inspire Those Who Inspire You. Acts of kindness, no matter how big or small, can have a direct, positive impact on someone else. Go out there today and change someone’s life for the better!

***These are my personal opinions and may not be those of my employer.***