I’m so over disappointment.
For the longest time, I’ve been trying to understand. Trying to give grace where grace is due. Trying to see the other side, understand the circumstances, and give people room to be human.
But honestly? I’m tired.
I’m taking back what I give grace to—and, if I’m being real, what I tend to tolerate.
I was tired of the bullshit before. But I think growing up as the youngest made me especially good at people-pleasing. There was always this part of me that wanted to say, “Okay, maybe this can work.” Maybe if I try harder. Maybe if I give it another chance. Maybe if I understand them a little more.
But at some point, that stops being grace.
It becomes self-abandonment.
And sometimes, if we’re not careful, constantly giving people chances to do better can become a way of participating in our own disappointment. We keep waiting for someone to become the person we hoped they would be instead of accepting what they have already shown us.
I’m learning that I can be kind without continuously making space for things that hurt me.
I’ve given so much grace—to relationships, friendships, workplaces, situations, and places I probably should have walked away from sooner. And one of the beautiful things about waking up and realizing that you have ownership over your own life is being able to say:
I’m not doing this anymore.
Not because I hate anyone.
Not because I’m angry.
But because I’m tired of being disappointed in myself.
I’m tired of choosing everyone else’s comfort over my own clarity.
I’m tired of abandoning what I know I need just because I’m afraid of what someone else might think when I finally choose myself.
I’m in my 30s now, and I’m really building.
Building as an adopted Black girl. Building Adopted Black Girl. Building my presence on LinkedIn. Building the next chapter of my career. Building a life that actually feels like mine.
And I think there comes a point where you have to get a little selfish.
Not selfish in a way that harms other people.
Selfish in a way that says, I am going to pay forward the life I want to live while I am still here to live it.
We don’t give ourselves permission to do that enough.
We don’t give ourselves permission to say, “This is what I want. This is what I’m capable of. This is what I’m going after. And this is what I’m no longer willing to settle for.”
I’ve consistently proven to myself that I can do hard things.
So I’m willing to do the hard thing.
I’m willing to have the uncomfortable conversation.
I’m willing to walk away.
I’m willing to disappoint someone else if the alternative is disappointing myself.
I always knew I was going to be successful. I always knew I was going to change the world in some way. I’ve always carried that knowing.
And, honestly, there were environments that made me question it.
There were moments when I could feel people wondering, Is this girl really going to do it?
And my answer has always been the same:
Yeah. I am.
I’ll show up even if I’m the only one dancing in the rain.
I’ll show up even if I’m the only one in the room.
I’ll show up because I keep my word.
Especially to myself.
I don’t know about y’all, but there is a different kind of hunger that comes in your 30s—or maybe after you’ve gotten close enough to losing yourself that you finally understand how valuable it is to find your way back.
For me, there was a spark that came from that.
And once that spark came back, I realized something:
Nobody can stop you when you finally decide you’re going to live your life.
What really gets me is realizing how much grace I’ve given to other people while giving so little of it to myself.
And there’s nobody else to blame for that.
That’s mine.
So now I’m learning to give myself the same grace I’ve been so willing to give everyone else.
I can acknowledge how I feel.
I can sit with it.
I can decide what it means.
And then I can move forward.
I don’t need to carry every disappointment with me.
I don’t need to understand every person who hurt me.
I don’t need to keep reopening doors just because I once hoped something would work.
Sometimes growth is simply saying, “This is what happened. This is how I feel. This is what I’ve learned. And I’m going.”
I want to live my life with more freedom.
More kindness.
More understanding.
More grace—for myself.
And I want to be calm about it.
Because I don’t have anything left to prove by constantly fighting for things that have already shown me what they are.
So, adopted Black girl, here’s your mission:
Go for it.
Go for the career.
Go for the business.
Go for the dream.
Go for the life.
Go for the version of yourself you keep imagining.
And when you get there, remember to give yourself the grace you were so busy giving everybody else.
From my writing corner with love,
Teish
