It’s the year that I turn 30.
And as a kid, I thought my life would look a lot different than it does right now. Maybe I watched too many movies and television shows back then—the ones where everyone had it all figured out by now. Remember “13 Going On 30?” When Jenna (Jennifer Garner) accidentally zapped into her future and had the most glamorous life (and walk-in closet) and she worked at a magazine? Or in “Sex and the City,” when Carrie Bradshaw (Sarah Jessica Parker) was blissfully broke with an overload of shoes? Yeah, that’s what I thought turning 30 would look like.
Safe to say, I’m not quite there. Actually, I feel as though I’m starting over from scratch. I’m at my first real fork-in-the-road moment. Whatever decisions I make right now change the entire trajectory of my journey. It’s the most uncertain I’ve ever felt, but somehow it feels right. I suppose that’s why you find me here, once again writing for the newspaper where my career began.
I got laid off unexpectedly this month, but it may have been a blessing in disguise. It was a toxic job, and not the first one that I stumbled upon over the last five years. You see, I’ve just been taking jobs that allude to this idea of stability that I have been incessantly chasing — with a salary that could solve all my problems and the kind of health insurance that would allow me to actually live. But in the midst of that exhausting search, I lost myself in the process. And something always felt missing.
My entire life, I was a writer. The second I touch a pen to paper or tap a keyboard, the words just spill out onto the page. So why is this the first piece I’ve attempted in half a decade? What have I been so afraid of? I don’t have the answer to that question, yet. I guess I’m hoping I will find it back here.
I’ve learned a lot since 2019, which is the last time my words appeared on these pages. I’ve had too many crappy bosses and some even worse commutes, but I did meet the most incredible creatives along the way. This network of people I have curated is definitive proof that you can be trauma-bonded for life.
I’ve run social media pages for some of your favorite local news stations. I’ve run blogs and websites for other local publications and companies. I learned how to edit commercials for television and how to market a brand. And while I loved parts of all these jobs and working on most of these teams, for one reason or another they just never stuck. And no matter how little each situation was my fault, I still blamed myself. I allowed myself to walk away, each time, feeling less confident about my sense of purpose because, for some reason, I got it stuck in my head that my only purpose in life is having a successful career as soon as possible.
I have just been running and going and chasing and pleading to be comfortable. When I first got laid off, I knew I was going to start having to ask myself some real hard questions. The first being, “When were you last happy, Bella?” and it took a while to find it, but I only had one answer: when I had the freedom of storytelling and the space to just be me. I’ve been in too many spaces where I was forced to dull my shine. Frankly, I think my shine is my most valuable asset.
So, to those actually reading this, thanks for being here while I rediscover myself. All my fellow y2k-raised kids can agree that Hannah Montana said it best when she sang, “You’ll always find your way back home.”
