An essay from the heart.
Let me start by telling you a story:
From Pinstripes to Poetry
Once upon a time not so long ago and not so far away, there was a little girl who became a banker. For years, she scaled the corporate walls to become vice-president at one of the largest banks. She loved her job. Heck, she was her job! Why would she ever think of leaving?
She travelled extensively, wore the latest designer suits and added endless zeros to her ever-increasing bottom line. As a female executive working in a male environment, she had a lot to prove. And dammit, she spent years proving it! But most of all, she was determined that no one find out she had been diagnosed with a debilitating illness called lupus.
She was convinced that if her colleagues sniffed out her weakness, the corporate pack would abandon her to die an agonizing death in the concrete jungle. So she fought hard to hide her lupus flares and fatigue, in a kingdom where only the mighty survive.
Through it all, she secretly dreamed of becoming a writer someday. But the growing number of stories and poems she kept in a wooden box in the back of her closet, were gathering more dust with each passing year. She wondered if that ‘someday’ would ever arrive, as she worked relentlessly to keep step with her banking comrades. On the outside, she was the picture of good health and efficiency, but on the inside, she was slowly fading away. The charade was exhausting.
So for years she continued through the good and bad days, and the little girl banker never thought much about life outside of the boardroom walls. But over time, she was having more difficulty managing the increasing pain, which seemed to be keeping step with her increasing responsibilities. Sometimes, when she walked with a cane, she fabricated stories about being accident prone. Read the rest of this entry