Days Without Incident: Three
- kesingermikaela
- Aug 9
- 3 min read
I realize, if you’re reading these in order, that I may be sharing a bit too much—or maybe too little—of my past experiences to try and get to the point quicker. I want you guys to understand what’s floating around in my head on a daily basis, but that doesn’t exactly help convey a story. In order to stay true to my first post in this series, I have to stick with the established through line that I promised. The things that brought me to this stage I’m at in life will bleed into the story naturally if I let it. So, with that in mind, I’m not apologizing for sharing my truth, just that I may have jumped ahead of myself without properly leading you all into the plot.
Today I woke up at seven and prepared a cup of coffee. I have an issue with not feeling productive enough, so I tend to wake up earlier to give myself a few hours of complete and utter productivity without the disruption of my sleeping fiance. I usually try to cram in a yoga session, some quiet reading time, and of course, a free-writing period. Typically, there is only time for one before he groggily wanders outside looking for me.
There are a lot of other bloggers out there that use productivity as a coping mechanism too. Moms brag about their busy schedule as they avoid their feelings on post pardon, psych blogs talk about “resilience” in the face of trauma, and even athletes boast about their extreme training regimes during their peak season, all without realizing that high functioning doesn’t always mean functional (Williams, 2021). If anything, those of you like me who are using “busyness” to avoid stagnation, we’re using these activities to avoid the truth of our dysfunction.
The moment I opened my eyes, I checked my email six different times for job application updates before I eventually rolled out of bed. When I graduated in the top three at my high school, and then top fifty in both of the fields I pursued in college, I definitely figured getting a job would be easier. I graduated magna cum laude with two degrees—only ever getting A’s and B’s—but hiring managers don’t seem to care whether or not I was able to defend my sociology dissertation in college or what my attendance was in high school.
Sure, the bakery down the road asks me if I have the time to come help out any time I stop by, but where is the challenge in that? I don’t want to hold down the same jobs I was going through the motions with from age sixteen to twenty one. I deserve to work in the publishing world, to meet other artists, and to build my career the way I pictured it when I was just a little girl with a notepad and a desperate need to escape into the world of written word.
This one is short, but I want to send in a few more job applications before Sean wakes up. For those of you who are like me, and you’re waiting for your life to finally start, keep your head up. The only thing that keeps me going is hearing that other people are working just as hard as I am to make it. We were all told the same misinformation: graduate high school, work part time, go to college, and then you will be able to pursue your dreams. Dreams aren’t being handed out the way they used to. Nightmares flood our waking hours as we stick glued to our television screens and black mirrors waiting for the next tragedy.
Will we make it through this period with our sanity? Yes, if we continue to work with one another and stay true to our morals. If you see someone abusing their place of power to further alienate these marginalized communities, say something. Extend your hand and raise your voice for the ones who must cower behind us for their own safety. Follow ICE cars around town so they’re too busy shaking you off their trail to go ruin a migrant's family’s day. Use your voice for good. Pull your cameras out when you see strangers belittling others. Use your body to stand up against what feels like a never-ending wave of misfortune. We are an unstoppable force when we stand together.
Let’s hear it for day 3! Also, FUCK ICE!!!
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