LIVE WELL

I Asked God to Show Me How Good It Can Get

This week, I asked God to show me how good it can get.

That same day, I got laid off.

Shocker, I know.

To be fair, I knew an ending was coming. I just assumed I would be the one doing the leaving. Life has a sense of humor that I occasionally find charming.

This was my fifth layoff. Yes. Five. At this point, I could probably teach a masterclass in receiving the calendar invite, recognizing the slightly-too-serious faces and understanding, before anyone finishes the sentence, exactly what is happening.

But this one felt different.

The other times, I immediately thought about what I had lost. The title. The salary. The routine. The version of my life I thought I was supposed to be building. This time, something else happened.

I started thinking about what I wanted.

Not what was sensible. Not what would look impressive on LinkedIn. Not what would make everyone around me feel comfortable about my future.

What do I actually want?

It turns out I want quite a lot. And maybe that is the revelation of this particular season of my life: I am done letting myself not want things.

I want KAPHILL to become everything I know it can be. I want to show up on every platform as the woman I actually am—not the edited-down, easily digestible version. I want extraordinary opportunities. I want rooms I haven't been invited into yet. I want the big life.

And I am finally willing to make the big ask for it.

There may be some adjustments along the way. Private tennis lessons, for example, might have to take a little sabbatical. We'll survive. Because comfort has its place, but I refuse to let comfort kill my dreams.

Every layoff I've experienced has eventually propelled my life forward. Not because losing a job is some secretly wonderful experience. It isn't. But each ending forced me to confront a question I had been conveniently avoiding: What do you want now?

And then, eventually: What are you going to do about it?

So this time, I'm not waiting for the fear to disappear before I answer. I'm living.

Avery and I had the kind of week I wish more women allowed themselves to have. First, a chill weekday. Then we had what I now consider a proper dilly-dally day.

We went to brunch at Dudley's. We had our aura photographs taken at Love Letter. We wandered over to the International Center of Photography to see the YSL photography exhibition. No frantic itinerary. No rushing to make the day productive. We just moved through New York together.

And I realized that I wasn't simply spending time with my daughter. I was showing her something.

I was showing her that a woman can have agency over her own life. That your days belong to you. That you can move intentionally without constantly moving urgently. That pleasure does not have to be earned through exhaustion.

Yesterday, I took her to ENVSN Festival for a similar reason. I'm intentional about what I expose her to because I want her confidence built from the inside. I want her to understand the particular magic of being a Black woman long before the world has an opportunity to suggest otherwise.

I want her to see women choosing themselves.

Including her mother. Especially her mother.

Which brings me to Leo season. Because naturally, getting laid off was not going to cancel Leo season.

I randomly found cheap tickets to see Chris Brown and Usher and somehow convinced Justin to go with me. I wore one of the outfits I'd tried on with my grandmother—the one she looked at and immediately informed me that all the It Girls wore back in her day.

There I was, recently unemployed, dressed with my grandmother's approval, dancing on the floor at a concert.

Life is ridiculous. And sometimes wonderfully so.

Then my friends surprised me with tickets to see Tracee Ellis Ross in The Brilliant Little Things. It hasn't happened yet, but let me tell you what I'm manifesting.

I'm going to arrive decked out in KAPHILL, looking exactly like myself. I'm going to meet Tracee. I'm going to tell her about KAPHILL. I'm going to make the big ask and find a way to get a piece into her hands.

Will all of that happen? I have no idea.

But that's precisely the point. I'm allowing myself to imagine that it could.

Because this is the other thing I'm learning: Make the ask.

Send the email. Introduce yourself. Wear the dress. Tell someone what you're building. Say you want the opportunity. Ask for the table. Ask for the room. Ask for more.

Who's to say it can't happen?

We spend so much of adulthood managing our expectations that sometimes we accidentally manage ourselves right out of desire. We call it being realistic. We call it being grateful. We call it protecting ourselves from disappointment.

But sometimes we're simply afraid to admit how much we want.

I don't want to do that anymore.

My birthday is coming, and perhaps this is my gift to myself this year: permission to want things again. Big things. Slightly unreasonable things. Things I don't yet know how to make happen.

I won't pretend I'm not nervous about what's next. I am. But nerves no longer get veto power over my life.

I asked God to show me how good it can get. Perhaps I misunderstood the assignment.

I thought He was going to hand me something.

Maybe He was clearing my hands.

And finally, celebrate something before everything is figured out.

The job can end. The plan can change. You can be nervous about Tuesday and still have a beautiful Saturday.

Joy isn't the reward we receive once life becomes certain. Sometimes joy is how we remind ourselves that uncertainty isn't the whole story.

My birthday is coming. I'm making big asks. I'm betting on myself.

And I'm very curious to see just how good it can get.

Have a whimsical week.

Krystal