The best way to predict your future is to create it. — Peter Drucker
Most people wait for the "right time" or the perfect opportunity to upgrade their skills.
But in a rapidly changing world, waiting is a losing strategy.
Taking ownership of your growth is the only option. 🧵 👇
Good evening. I am active and share content covering life's issues, motivation, education, and EdTech. I also delve into fun facts. A never give up ambassador
@JerryPhoenix_
I just found out the person who held my hand through the darkest year of my life is the exact reason it was so dark.
My stomach is still in knots. I’m typing this from my car because I legitimately couldn't breathe in my apartment and just needed to get out.
Three years ago, my life was completely falling apart. I had just been hit with a massive, unexpected financial crisis that completely wiped out my savings, and I was desperately relying on a long-overdue promotion at work just to keep my head above water.
Enter Chloe.
Chloe was my work best friend. We shared the same miserable, gray cubicle wall. She knew absolutely everything about me.
Exactly how much debt I was drowning in and how I was barely sleeping. She was my sounding board, my therapist, and my daily escape.
When the senior director role finally opened up, she practically forced me to apply.
She sat with me after hours to proofread my resume. She bought me an expensive matcha latte the morning of my interview, hugged me tight, and told me I was born for the role.
I felt so confident. The interview went perfectly. I hit every metric and left feeling like I could finally breathe again.
But I didn’t get it.
They brought in a guy from the outside. I was completely crushed. I remember locking myself in the third-floor bathroom, sobbing until my chest ached.
Chloe came in, sat on the gross tile floor in her expensive skirt, and held my hand.
She handed me tissues. She told me management was blind and incompetent.
She said the new guy wouldn't last a month and that I was too good for them anyway.
I survived that terrible year because of her support. I really, truly believed that.
Eventually, Chloe moved to another state for a better job. We lost touch, but I always thought of her fondly as my guardian angel during that horrific season.
Until this morning. My company is going through a massive server migration. As the longest-tenured employee left in my department, IT gave me temporary admin access to sort through archived legacy folders before the transfer.
I was mindlessly clicking through old correspondence when a file name caught my eye. It was a saved email chain between our Vice President and Chloe, dated just four days before my big interview.
I knew I shouldn't have opened it. But human nature won.
The subject line was simply my name. I read the first sentence, and the blood literally drained from my face. My hands started shaking.
Chloe had gone to the VP in secret. She wrote a long, highly articulate, deeply professional email expressing her profound concern about my mental state.
She told him my situation had made me emotionally erratic and unfocused.
She cited specific times I had cried at my desk completely leaving out the fact that I only ever cried privately to her when she pulled up a chair and asked how I was holding up.
She explicitly advised the VP that promoting me would be a massive liability.
She strongly suggested they look for an external hire to maintain team stability.
She didn't even want the job for herself. She just didn't want me to have it.
I sat there staring at the glowing screen in the empty office for what felt like hours.
The betrayal isn’t just about the money I lost, the career setback, or the months I spent agonizing over what I did wrong. It’s the visceral memory of her sitting on that bathroom floor with me.
She hugged me while I cried over a door she was the one who locked.
She watched me drown, handed me a towel, and never once mentioned she was the one who pushed me into the water.
I’ve been staring at her contact in my phone for an hour. I haven't texted her. I don't even know what I would say that could possibly encompass this level of deceit.
Has someone you completely trusted ever smiled warmly in your face while actively ruining your life behind the scenes? How did you even begin to process it?
Yes, I have been betrayed, but yours was on a higher threshold. Do you have enough reason to be bitter, yes you do, but choose peace of mind. You're a conqueror.
That's a gut-wrenching betrayal—finding out someone who held your hand through tears was the one quietly sabotaging your future. It’s okay to feel furious and heartbroken right now; give yourself space before deciding how (or if) to confront her. You’ve already shown incredible strength by surviving that chapter and in my opinion, you won—use this as fuel to protect your energy and surround yourself with people who truly celebrate your wins.
Consider your being alive to learn about the chameleon behind your ugly experience as win.
Remember, the past is what it is, you cannot bring it back, but you can draw from the experience and forge ahead stronger and armed with the lessons you learned from the phase.
I just found out the person who held my hand through the darkest year of my life is the exact reason it was so dark.
My stomach is still in knots. I’m typing this from my car because I legitimately couldn't breathe in my apartment and just needed to get out.
Three years ago, my life was completely falling apart. I had just been hit with a massive, unexpected financial crisis that completely wiped out my savings, and I was desperately relying on a long-overdue promotion at work just to keep my head above water.
Enter Chloe.
Chloe was my work best friend. We shared the same miserable, gray cubicle wall. She knew absolutely everything about me.
Exactly how much debt I was drowning in and how I was barely sleeping. She was my sounding board, my therapist, and my daily escape.
When the senior director role finally opened up, she practically forced me to apply.
She sat with me after hours to proofread my resume. She bought me an expensive matcha latte the morning of my interview, hugged me tight, and told me I was born for the role.
I felt so confident. The interview went perfectly. I hit every metric and left feeling like I could finally breathe again.
But I didn’t get it.
They brought in a guy from the outside. I was completely crushed. I remember locking myself in the third-floor bathroom, sobbing until my chest ached.
Chloe came in, sat on the gross tile floor in her expensive skirt, and held my hand.
She handed me tissues. She told me management was blind and incompetent.
She said the new guy wouldn't last a month and that I was too good for them anyway.
I survived that terrible year because of her support. I really, truly believed that.
Eventually, Chloe moved to another state for a better job. We lost touch, but I always thought of her fondly as my guardian angel during that horrific season.
Until this morning. My company is going through a massive server migration. As the longest-tenured employee left in my department, IT gave me temporary admin access to sort through archived legacy folders before the transfer.
I was mindlessly clicking through old correspondence when a file name caught my eye. It was a saved email chain between our Vice President and Chloe, dated just four days before my big interview.
I knew I shouldn't have opened it. But human nature won.
The subject line was simply my name. I read the first sentence, and the blood literally drained from my face. My hands started shaking.
Chloe had gone to the VP in secret. She wrote a long, highly articulate, deeply professional email expressing her profound concern about my mental state.
She told him my situation had made me emotionally erratic and unfocused.
She cited specific times I had cried at my desk completely leaving out the fact that I only ever cried privately to her when she pulled up a chair and asked how I was holding up.
She explicitly advised the VP that promoting me would be a massive liability.
She strongly suggested they look for an external hire to maintain team stability.
She didn't even want the job for herself. She just didn't want me to have it.
I sat there staring at the glowing screen in the empty office for what felt like hours.
The betrayal isn’t just about the money I lost, the career setback, or the months I spent agonizing over what I did wrong. It’s the visceral memory of her sitting on that bathroom floor with me.
She hugged me while I cried over a door she was the one who locked.
She watched me drown, handed me a towel, and never once mentioned she was the one who pushed me into the water.
I’ve been staring at her contact in my phone for an hour. I haven't texted her. I don't even know what I would say that could possibly encompass this level of deceit.
Has someone you completely trusted ever smiled warmly in your face while actively ruining your life behind the scenes? How did you even begin to process it?
But this is black, black... I am chocolate not black, black. If I am to choose a wife again, I will choose a fair woman. At least for the days that light won't show.💡 💡 💡
A cube has 6 faces. Having just biceps and 12 packs don't make a good husband. Do you share similar values? Does he honour his parents? Does he respect you? Is he empathetic? Is he big on hygiene? Is he God-fearing? Is he financially intelligent?
These and many more matter in a marriage than intimidating biceps 💪💪💪
Good morning, X fam 🤎
If nobody has told you this today:
You're doing better than you think.
Keep showing up.
Keep learning.
Keep growing.
Your efforts will make sense one day.
Have a beautiful day ahead 💃🤎
Success isn't just about how much you earn; it's also about how much joy, gratitude, and peace you have when the day is over. Sometimes the richest person in the room isn't the happiest.
I pushed not just 1 but 3 babies overnight, 3kg, 3.5kg and 4kg, all boys don't be stingy with your congratulations 💃💃💃🏿💃🏿💃🏿💃🏿
I survived the labour room
I pushed not just 1 but 3 babies overnight, 3kg, 3.5kg and 4kg, all boys don't be stingy with your congratulations 💃💃💃🏿💃🏿💃🏿💃🏿
I survived the labour room