Hi, I'm Mislene, but most people call me MJ.
I was born in Haiti and have lived in the U.S. for some-teen years now. I'm what you'd call a do-it-yourself kind of girl, not because I'm overly ambitious, but because I'm deeply impatient. If something needs to get done, I figure it out and do it myself.
For the past few years, I've been obsessed with the idea of starting over, like, really starting over. Pack a bag. Leave the country. Disappear into something unfamiliar and finally feel like me again.
I thought maybe school would help. Maybe if I got a degree, or two, I'd feel "settled," like I had finally arrived at the life everyone told me to chase.
Two degrees and a mountain of student debt later, I had the job I once thought I wanted. The one with the benefits, the title, and the false promise of stability. I bought myself a car, something that was mine, that represented the independence I thought I was building. I had an apartment I loved, all the markers of "making it."
But inside? I was miserable. Exhausted. Disconnected. Depressed. I felt like a 30-year-old failure pretending to have it together while quietly falling apart.
Even with everything I thought I wanted, the degree, the job, the car, the apartment, something was still missing. That restless feeling wouldn't go away. Corporate America took the light out of me. And after one too many breakdowns in a cold office bathroom, I called a friend and said the thing I had been holding in: "I think I'm ready for a break. I need to see what else is out there."
That wasn't me running away. That was me finally choosing myself.
Now I'm counting down the days until I step into the unknown and start over, this time, on my own terms.
This blog is where I'm sharing the mess, the magic, and the in-between moments. It's for the women who've done everything "right" and still feel like something's missing. If you've ever wanted to start over, or wondered what's on the other side of staying stuck; this space is for you.
You're not crazy. You're just ready.
Currently: Planning my escape route and learning to trust the voice that's been whispering "there's got to be more than this" for years.
Currently: Planning my escape route and learning to trust the voice that's been whispering "there's got to be more than this" for years.
