Broken In My Prime

At thirty-five, I had everything I dreamed of. I was engaged, had a loving family, lifelong friends, and had just landed what I thought would be my dream job. Career-minded and hard-working, I had big goals and wasn’t afraid to take a chance. All my education and work led to this moment. I did it. I landed the leadership role I long sought.

This playlist follows the last three years of my life. The artists and genres span from instrumental to country and hip-hop and everything in between. Each song has gotten me through these last few years and can immediately transport me back in time.

If a playlist could tell a story, here’s mine.

Part 1: Rise Up

Rise Up, Imagine Dragons

It’s 9:35 Sunday morning, and I’m on my longest bike ride of the week. Around mile 12, the nagging buzz at my wrist finally urged me to pull over to peek at my phone. Multiple messages from my future boss, asking that I sign the new employment contract by noon. The contract had come in late the night before, giving me only one quick review before turning out the lights and going to sleep.

I head home, knowing my focus should be on every word in that contract. On paper, this is what I have been working towards. My break into the industry and my first real leadership role. So why couldn’t I sleep last night?

The boss wanted to include my employment announcement in the internal communications that were sent every Sunday night, hence the urgency.

As I return home, I drop everything on the dining room table and begin sifting through the digital agreement. My mind wanders, a mix of excitement, anticipation, and wonder. I recall the last 12 hours, wondering why, after eight rounds of interviews, I was hesitant to sign. I pinch the bridge of my nose, feeling a slight headache set in. I jump up and grab some water, assuming I’m dehydrated from my ride that was cut short.

Still anxious to move but not quite in the mood to hop back on the bike, I grab my phone and link to my Bluetooth speaker. I scroll until I find the song that accompanied me through all those rounds of interviews, Rise Up by Imagine Dragons. I’m reminded of my mistakes and achievements, but I’ve always wanted something more. Despite walking into the unknown, I’ll always open up the door.

I bend over the laptop, sign, and send.

The Way You Make Me Feel, Michael Jackson

The only change I made to the contract was the start date. Three weeks, not two. I needed time to give notice, but I also wanted a week with my partner, who recently became my fiance. We spent a week together at home, taking short day trips when we got antsy.

On one particular afternoon, after a day of lounging and binging whatever sparked our interest, he paused between episodes and asked if I wanted to go for a drive. Early March in Florida is beautiful. As the sun was just beginning its descent, we rolled down the windows and turned the music up. He drove, and I found myself leaning back, letting the wind catch my hand, completely at peace.

As I scrolled through songs on Spotify, I landed on The Way You Make Me Feel. It wasn’t long before I was swaying to the music, laughing and singing along. With his eyes on the road, a permanent smile tugged at his lips. He eventually caught my hand and glanced at me sideways, still smiling. “I love you,” he said.

I later cling to this memory like a lifeline. I had no idea the darkness that lay ahead.

Like a Girl, Lizzo

I’m up hours before my alarm, anxious to kick off my first day of work. The home office is all set, but onboarding doesn’t start for another three hours. Despite playing a virtual yoga session, I quickly grew bored. I switched to meditation, but my mind was too active.

I eventually got ready for the day and walked into the home office, where I sat idly, my leg tapping as I rolled my head from side to side. Still anxious, I played my workout playlist as I read up on the new materials my company sent the week before.

I catch the lyrics to Lizzo’s Like a Girl, forgetting I had recently added it to my playlist. I catch myself saying the lyrics aloud, no longer reading the materials for what felt like the tenth time.

Before I know it, I’m out of my chair, jumping up and down, singing. I punch the air as if in a cardio kickboxing class, picking up more of the lyrics as the song continues to repeat. I feel stronger and more confident with each play. My calendar reminder alerts me that it’s nearly time to start the work day. I play the song once more for good luck as I sit at my desk and catch my breath.

“Got nothing to prove, but I'ma show you how I do”

Let’s do this.

Part 2: The Spiral

Harder to Breathe, Maroon 5

My eyes are open, and my fingers are gliding across the keyboard, but I’m not here. Not really.

I logged off long enough to eat dinner before plopping back in my desk chair, the third night in a row. It’s only Tuesday. My eyes begin to itch, and I’m sure I’m making mistakes now. I continue to type when I hear the ping. The boss.

My headache is back, but it’s become a dull passenger, particularly on late nights. I grew so concerned that I saw my doctor last week. It's a tension headache synonymous with stress.

Sixty-hour (plus) work weeks aren’t for the faint of heart. They’re not fair to anyone, really. The projects continue to pile up, my days are filled with meetings, and I’m now responsible for the weekly report that deploys Sunday nights; therefore, my Sundays belong to reporting.

Barely six months into this role, and I feel like an imposter. I try to remind myself that I’m doing work I wasn’t necessarily hired to do. Well, that and the job I was actually hired for. Despite that, even when I produce something to be proud of, I’m often overwritten or told to go back and redo it. I find that I question myself now daily.

My fingers hover above the keyboard as I wonder if I oversold myself. Can I even write a standard email anymore? My mind fully wanders. Okay, it’s time to call it a night. I was hired for my expertise, but she’s not listening.

It’s getting harder to breathe.

Best of You, Foo Fighters

The Foo Fighters always seem to hit close to home. Actually, the In Your Honor album has gotten me through many of life’s trials, so I often clung to its familiarity during this new phase.

I admit it now. This job and this boss are getting the best of me.

I’m a constant mix of anger, bitterness, and exhaustion. My relationship is also suffering, thanks to canceled plans and some of my more recent, snappy remarks. We go to bed in silence most nights. I shove noise-canceling headphones into my ears, needing white noise to help drown out my anxiety as I try to get to sleep.

Despite now nine months of what feels like hell on earth, I refuse to give in. I simply can’t give up and start somewhere new. I have to see this through.

I endure, finding some strength to push back and advocate for change; for myself and my colleagues. Yet my pattern remains constant.

My faith is wavering, and the pain I feel is becoming more frequent.

Dull Knives, Imagine Dragons

Some songs serve as an outlet or a reminder of where you’ve been and how far you’ve come. Their therapeutic nature has helped me feel heard and understood, a reminder that I’m not alone. I heard Dull Knives sometime after the following events, but it’s the song that transports me to that mania and rapid decline. Today, I play this song as a reminder but also as an outlet when I need to sing my heart out.

A tingling, prickly heat stings my chest. My skin burns red, soon reaching my neck and cheeks as anger and stress become all-consuming.

“Nothing is wrong, nothing is right,” yet I’m no longer myself. I’m losing my mind. I begin to shake, having just canceled yet another evening with my partner. He mutters something about understanding, but I don’t quite hear or listen.

“What did you say?” I snap, but the ringing, stinging anger muffles his response.

My head begins to sweat as if fumes were spewing from my ears. I can’t see straight; unsure if I’m spinning or if the room is. My whole body trembles as I lose myself, break, and erupt.

Everything goes black as I spiral out of control.

I’m shouting.

I jab my balled fists at my side, screaming at the top of my lungs, unraveling the last bit of my sanity. Staring, shocked, and confused, my partner calls out to me without stepping forward.

Did he speak? I hear nothing but the blur of my thoughts and the shriek of my voice, no longer forming words.

I turn away from him, a fiery shell, blind to my path as my cheeks scorch away my tears.

The Sound of Silence, Disturbed

Suddenly, my world is silent. As I lift my tear-stained head, I find myself hunched, hugging my legs in the corner of our bedroom.

I cannot recall how I got here or how long I’ve been here.

Time passed, and my outburst felt like a bad dream, except it wasn’t. I’m aware of my partner also sitting in silence in another room. How can I face him? What can I possibly say? The mania has worn off, but I sit, too ashamed to move or to speak.

The silence is stifling, yet I’m not ready to face my demons. I reach up on my nightstand, grasping for an anchor. Pulling down my headphones, I put The Sound of Silence on repeat, seeking connection and refuge. I search desperately for the slightest glimmer of hope. I beg myself to unravel this tight, inward hug and finally breathe again.

I consider the journey of my mania. It slowly seeped into my life, edging ever closer each day. Without recognizing it, I allowed this mania to overtake my mind and divide me from the people and things that make me who I am.

My body warned me, but I did not listen. The tension headaches, the lack of sleep, and the late-night hours were all in pursuit of the next unreasonable goal. I thought I could overcome it. Just a little longer, I told myself. But anxiety disassembled my boundaries brick-by-brick so quietly that I ignored it with ease.

Time passes before I eventually lift my head. It’s time to love myself again.

I unfold my arms and stretch out my legs.

Goodbye, darkness.

Part 3: Unwind

Seize the Day, Avenged Sevenfold

Focusing on the wrong priorities brought me here. As I collect those dismantled bricks, I begin to rebuild with each passing day.

Time lost and bridges burnt, I find myself adrift. Hardworking, but not working for me. Dedicated, but to someone else’s goals. I swat away at the lofty, open-ended questions and lofty goals that previously took center stage in my mind. Instead, I focus on what I want now and how to course correct.

To start, I apologized. To myself first, then to my partner and others who were directly impacted.

I became my own greatest advocate.

I immediately built time into every single day for myself. I deleted work emails off my phone and blocked actual working time on my calendar. I said no to spending time with friends and family when I needed a day to myself–to catch up, to relax, to be.

I rolled with the punches, and oh, did those punches come. Initially, family and friends shared feelings of being cast aside. Demands continued to mount at work. However, I endured and stayed true to myself and to the rules I set. Choosing to care only about what I can control, I learned to seize the day, every day, to recover and improve.

Slowly, clarity of mind returned. The dull throb at the center of my forehead subsided, and I went from five hours of sleep to six and eventually seven. Before I know it, I’m experiencing more good days than bad.

Today, my focus is on me.

Part 4: Devotion

Several months later, I find myself on the couch with my partner, watching TV. I’m at ease. Warm, comfortable, and content. I’m thinking of nothing beyond that moment, anxiety lost.

I smile as I allow my mind to drift to recent memories that brought us back together.

I’ll Be There For You, Bon Jovi

Despite wishing to fix everything immediately, I knew only time and work would bring us back to the feelings we shared during that drive together. While I devised a plan not long after picking myself up from the bedroom floor, only time could demonstrate my change, proof that I was learning to prioritize myself and the people and things most important to me.

I swore to be there for you. You forgave me on the spot, but I saw the worry in your expression that long remained. A subtle distance among us loomed.

As I turned to my own mental health, I knew that this pursuit of happiness would lead me back to you.

Come A Little Closer, Dierks Bentley

I remember the moment he fully returned to me. Several weeks had passed. I was healthier, stronger.

I fell onto his lap, laughing and flirting. It was the same excitement and adoration I felt thirteen years ago when we met. I held his face between my hands and kissed him all over. He closed his eyes with a smile that extended to his eyes. His arms were around me, and he squeezed. When I stopped, he opened his eyes, still smiling.

“You’re you again, love.”

"[Let’s] steal away off into the night 'til we make things right.

The sun's gonna rise on a better day."

All I Ask of You (The Phantom of the Opera), Midnite String Quartet

The sun did rise on a better day and every day thereafter.

Months later, I’m giddy with excitement. The only stress is the constant reminder not to completely break down when I see you for the first time. The doors open. My dad, on my arm, inhales and catches his breath. No, no, no, I think to myself. If he loses it, I’m a goner.

Then I see you.

In this moment, I’m introduced to a new smile of yours. You’re the epitome of pure joy, beaming with pride. All the stories are true. At that moment, 45 of our closest family and friends didn’t exist. I only saw you.

I meet you at the end of the aisle as the string quartet plays All I Ask of You. The melody reminds me that my darkness is now behind me. While you have dried my tears and accepted my apologies, you promise to love me, which helps carry me forward. I promise never to ask more of you.

Love me. That is all I ask of you.

Part 5: Still Standing

Lose Yourself, Eminem

A month has passed since I lost myself to love.

In those final days between our honeymoon and reality, I contemplated how to handle my return to work. For the first time since starting, I fully disconnected. No emails, no instant messages, texts, or calls. It’s as if I didn’t have a job.

As I scrolled through various communications, I finally finish my review after an hour or so. Not a single congratulations from leadership. Several “urgent” requests that appear to have been miraculously resolved in my absence. Nothing more. While my job remained the same, I had changed.

From the darkness, a new version of myself was born. I realized that I didn’t have to say goodbye to my ambition. It was time to make my mark, to change what I could change around me. I know I’m the one to help ignite the spark for internal change. Eminem’s Lose Yourself becomes my anthem that urges me to own the moment.

Let’s go.

Confident, Demi Lovato

The next several weeks are led with confidence.

I help form a cross-functional working team to design and launch the organization’s first cultural values. We make strides in enhancing team members' work-life balance. I willingly speak up and share collective feedback with executive leadership, unafraid of potential consequences.

There’s a willingness to change.

Eventually, I raise my hand for a new position under new leadership. I’m a shoo-in for the role, and I don’t hesitate to say yes. I now report to a leader I long respected and appreciated. Wise, respectful, and incredible experience. If there was any looming uncertainty about my future, this new position eradicated those thoughts in an instant.

I’m Still Standing, Elton John

"Don't you know I'm still standin' better than I ever did?"

What I had hoped to accomplish at the start of this story finally comes full circle. My relationships are mended, and my confidence is stronger than ever. I know who I am and what I want; nothing in this world can stop me now.

As I look back on this journey of heartache, anxiety, inner peace, love, and strength, I’m reminded of my rapid growth in a short span of time. I learned to love myself more than ever before, to strike down the imposter within, and trust my own judgment and experience.

In the end, it took confidence, but it also took courage to work through the stress and anxiety of everyday life. I stand today, willing to speak my mind respectfully and to stand my ground.

I even learned to forgive. Myself, first, but eventually my old manager too. We’ve even formed a professional friendship. I openly shared some of my personal experiences and frustrations, which also revealed areas I, too, can improve on. In all, this path to strength and confidence has taught me to better communicate in all walks of life.

My gut warned me before signing that contract, yet as I stand here today, I wouldn’t change a thing.

Epilogue: Take Me Home

Take Me Home, Country Roads, John Denver

No playlist is complete without Country Roads. It was once steeped in nostalgia, but now it’s a reminder that “home” can be any mindset, location, person, or object. My home is not a specific geography or location. It’s a mindset first. Home is with my husband and our dogs, but that wouldn't be possible without first knowing, loving, and trusting in myself.

Take me home, to the place I belong.