Who would have thought I would get fired while sitting on the toilet?
I know. Definitely TMI. But at this point, we are almost like family, so we might as well get comfortable.
I had just woken up from a nap when I received a text from an unknown number. It was the owner of the business where I worked. That alone was unusual because he had never contacted me like this before. He said he would call, but I called him instead.
And yes, the entire time, I was sitting on the toilet.
I wasn’t particularly nervous. As far as I knew, I hadn’t done anything that would warrant that kind of conversation. But by the second call, he told me I would no longer be working for the company.
Sir. Are you serious?
I just got fired from a liquor store. On my day off.
I was Craig from Friday.
At first, I almost laughed. Then, as his words started to settle, I tried to understand what had just happened. One minute I was waking up from a nap. The next, I was unemployed.
For a moment, I was pissed. But there was also this relief that I wasn’t expecting. Then a peace came over me that I still cannot fully explain.
If I’m being honest, I hated that job.
I hated how it made me feel. I love order, and I struggled with the lack of structure. I was frustrated with management and tired of trying to make sense of an environment where I never quite felt settled.
So I’m not going to sit here and pretend I was heartbroken about leaving.
But being relieved about losing a job and being able to afford losing a job are two different things.
And that is where it got real.
Having consistent income in my home again was a feeling I hadn’t had since 2023. It allowed me to catch up on bills and start putting systems in place for my life. There was comfort in knowing another paycheck was coming.
Enough comfort that I was willing to deal with disrespect. And if you know me, you know that is something I usually call out immediately. But my fear of being homeless again was greater than my urge to say everything I wanted to say.
I’ll take disrespect for $100, Alex.
I wanted this job to be a good experience. It was my first real experience as a retail manager, and there were things I wanted to learn. Instead, that workplace felt like a boys’ club, and too often, I left conversations feeling like a dumb woman for asking a question.
I remember asking my counterpart what made a whiskey or bourbon an allocated product.
“Experience,” he said.
Um, sir. I am asking how you know. What determines that? I was trying to learn, and that answer gave me nowhere to go.
Some days, those interactions made me so tight. Other days, I let them roll off my back. But the thought of no longer having to deal with them? That put a smile on my face.
Then I would remember the paycheck.
That is the part I need you to understand: I am afraid of being homeless again.
That fear has history. I remember taking showers at Planet Fitness. I remember finding a nice establishment where I could use the bathroom and feel a little more at ease while I was living through something that was anything but comfortable.
I know what it feels like to lose stability. I know what it took to have a place of my own again. So yes, I am careful. Sometimes almost too careful. I can spend so much time thinking about what I could lose that I struggle to move toward what I want.
There are things I tolerated because I was trying to keep a roof over my head. I can be honest about that without pretending they didn’t hurt.
Now, I know somebody is already thinking, “You have to trust God.”
And I do.
But at 41, fear has a funny way of showing up with receipts. It remembers what happened last time. It remembers what you had to survive. And sometimes, while you’re trying to imagine what could go right, it is reminding you of everything that could go wrong.
While working on this post, I talked with my best friend about trusting God. Trust looks different in this season. I have trusted Him before, but I am still learning how to move through this part of the wilderness.
I can see progress. I can see things beginning to take shape. Yet the stability I want still feels out of reach. Being able to see movement and still feel limited is exhausting.
So I keep praying, and I keep doing the work I can do. I create recipes. I write. I send pitches for the podcast. I work through the details of the gatherings I want to host.
I still have bills to figure out. I don’t expect one dinner or one conversation to solve all of that. But there are steps I can take now, even with the fear coming along.
I am ready to give Floral & Spice the consistency and care I have been imagining for it. The monthly supper club. The blogs. The podcast conversations. I want to build relationships with sponsors and introduce more women to this hospitality and culture house I am creating.
I can send the email. I can make the invitation. I can keep creating a place women want to return to.
And when a woman comes, I want her to bring herself.
Her bougie. Her stiletto heels or her sneakers. Her bold personality or her timid voice. Whatever version of herself walks through the door that day, I want her to feel welcome.
I know how much it matters to feel at ease in a room. I care about the food, the colors, and the way the table looks. I also care about how she feels sitting at it. That is where so much of my intention lives.
And yes, I am still figuring all of this shit out.
I am working through my insecurities about hosting in an apartment. About not having every piece of furniture, every dish, or every resource I want for the experience I see in my head. It is vulnerable to invite people into what you have while you are still dreaming about what you hope to build.
But this is the home I worked so hard to have again. There is care here. There is joy here. And I want to share it.
I don’t have a finished lesson about losing this job. I have relief, real responsibilities, and a fear I am learning how to live with while I make my next move.
But fuck it. I’m starting anyway.
Apparently, this chapter opened with me on the toilet, feet numb, considering my entire future. I would have preferred a more graceful setting, but here we are.
So let me ask you: Have you ever felt relieved about something you were also scared to lose?