True Confessions From A Failed Life


If you had met me three years ago, you would have met a woman defeated by lack and loss and hopes that never became reality. You would have met a woman who was still mourning the life and success she thought she would have. You would have met someone who felt like the last great thing she achieved was almost ten years behind her. Failing at what you thought you would master changes you. What should have built the resilience to get up and try again made me want to crawl inside myself and disappear. Recently, I am remembering vividly what it felt like to be living a life you deem a failure in your own eyes. To be honest, practicing law not only shaped my identity, it took it over. And eventually, it swallowed it. Until all I was, was an attorney. If all else, failed, at least I was an attorney. But when THAT began to fail – I had an identity crisis! Watching other attorneys flourish and make a living in this line of work filled me with a desperate sense of inadequacy. Everyone in this field seemed to know something I did not. How were they running solo practices and still managing to keep a roof over their heads, considering my venture into private practice kept me in poverty from Day 1?  How were they getting these cushy opportunities when doors kept slamming in my own face?

Feelings of inadequacy kept me from connecting with new people in my field. As far as I was concerned I had nothing to offer anyone, so why bother. I kept to the safe confines of the friendships forged in childhood and law school. I did not go out of my way to make new work friends, and at the same time, seeing the camaraderie among my colleagues from the courthouse or law school ate me alive. I did not belong. Nowhere was it more apparent than when I would venture out to social events for local lawyers and find myself wandering the room alone. Too many of these instances made me retreat further away from those that would be considered my equals but whom I had deemed were better than me because at least they did not face a foreclosure (in 2010), at least they were not driving their mom’s old car (till 2013), at least they knew what the heck they were doing with this practice of law. My thoughts ran in circles continually and defeated me before I could even try. When new law school graduates entered our field with all the hope and optimism that was already beaten out of me by unemployment, underemployment and lack, I was immediately jealous. They seemed like they had their whole lives ahead of them and were better equipped to succeed than I ever was. The last great thing I accomplished was passing the bar, and that was in 2007. Every year since then had felt like a constant battle of trying to prove that I was not as terrible an attorney as my fears would have me believe.

I cannot say my years were all bad. I did some excellent work. I helped some truly deserving clients and made my own impact here and there. But when I compared my successes to my bottom line, they did not line up to produce a life I would call a success. For so many years, it had been ingrained into me that being a lawyer meant being smart, successfully and rich. I was willing to work to be all of those things. Until my work kept proving to be less than enough. Eventually my ambition got buried deep beneath my fears of failure and success, and I comforted myself with the lie that career success did not matter as long as I was successful in other ways. I spent TEN YEARS hating what I earned (not necessarily what I did, because like I said – I made some impact in lives that will last for generations), but being too afraid to do anything about it. Every idea seemed like a failure waiting to happen. So i shrank into the life I hated, comforted myself with the love of my husband and children and buried my hopes and dreams in the sand. I avoided associations with other lawyers because their successes only testified more boldly of my failures. Conversations with loved ones about my career or chosen path always left me in bitter tears shed in private. This was NOT how my life was supposed to go. Graduate college with honors, go to law school, finish, pass the bar, find the job of my dreams and climb the ladder while finding love and marrying the man of my dreams and building our family. THAT was the plan. Everything that deviated was a constant reminder of my failure.

One day, my husband pushed me and kept pushing me until my comfort zone was a distant memory. I stopped believing or caring whether people were judging me by my lack of career success and decided to pivot my life. Stop getting up every day for a job you hate because it doesn’t pay you, FIND ONE THAT PAYS YOU! It did not matter what job it was. As long as they would have me and they would pay me reasonably for my time. After six months of effort and calling fear a liar, applying for jobs even when I did not feel qualified, going on interviews (first ones in 10 years) even though I felt terrified and ill-prepared, I got a job. Not just a job. A job that pays me in a day what I didn’t earn in a week as a solo attorney. A job that gave me supervisors and colleagues who care about me as a person as well as my work product. A job that finally healed the sense of failure and brokenness that I had been carrying regarding my career for almost 11 years. I love my job. I love the opportunity I have to do it. I love my direct supervisor and I genuinely enjoy the company that employs me. My life was a failure in my eyes because I did not have a job. Getting one, a good one with an ethical, professional and trustworthy employer has healed me in ways that practicing law never did.

These are my confessions.

Thanks to the hardship that comes with practicing law, I am being forced once again to examine my heart at it relates to the success of other attorneys. The truth is a part of me is angry. I am angry at the colleagues who saw me struggling and took advantage of me (shout out to my first commercial landlord). I am angry at the ones who made jokes about who I was and where I worked (being humiliated in court was not fun). I am angry at the people who saw my resume and decided sight unseen that Omowunmi was just too ‘ethnic” of a name for their company. I am angry but it will pass; it always does.

Truth is, I am also grateful. I am grateful to the clients who hired me based off one meetings and met their obligations to pay me. I’m grateful for the countless numbers of people who now have legal status in this country thanks in small part to my role in their story. I am grateful for the countless numbers of juveniles who have avoided a life altering criminal record because they took my advise, both legal and informal, and changed their entire lives. I am grateful for the mentees who entrusted me with their journeys because “she’s a lawyer” and have gone on to graduate college, medical schools and law school and are thriving as productive members of society. I am grateful for everyone who tried to introduce me to one form of employment or another when they heard I was struggling, and I am ESPECIALLY grateful to the colleagues who have become family who sat with me as I poured over new cases, making sure I understood the nuances and could get the best results for my clients. Thank you! I cannot thank you enough.

My life was a failure in my eyes because of the shame of lack and poverty. But God has redeemed my failures and I am happy to report that success feels more familiar than ever. I will not go back. Sometimes you have to fail into the life of your dreams. Because honestly, without my past failures – I would never have had the courage the change my mind and pursue the life of my dreams.

These are my confessions.


Hidden, But Still Treasured


Hidden image

Lately,  I have been focusing very hard on putting work behind my passions. I love writing and producing creative works that others can consume and enjoy. I have been working on a new project, collecting my best thoughts and insights on every area of life and putting them together into a book. If I put the right kind of effort behind this work, I know it can be a great product. I am already proud of the work it has taken to get to this point.

A part of me pictures this being the work that introduces me to the women I hope to reach and connect with – the audience who would find and build community through my writings whether they are blogs or books. The other part of me does not want to worry about “reaching the masses” with my work. I just want to invest my time in doing good work and doing it consistently. At this point, I rather be a great writer than a popular one. One leading to the other would be welcomed.

Recently though, I have been shrinking away from the thought of being known. Over the last ten years, I can credit the majority of my growth to the privilege of making my mistakes in private. I am not sure I am ready to give up that privilege and trade it for a new reality. The ideas in my head and heart are not only meant for my living room. They are designed to benefit as many people as I can impact but reaching the masses means giving up the comfort of knowing that my decisions only affect those in my immediate community. It means being held accountable to the raised standard that comes with public platforms. For someone who has been so focused on putting my best writing out there, it seems I am now rethinking my methods. All year long, I have exerted my best effort in laying the foundation for others to find me (writing more blogs and short stories, revamping my websites, creating new social media pages, paying for online ads, etc). Now, I’m reconsidering and wondering if this season of not being “seen” has been purposefully orchestrated by God to prepare me for the life I hope to have some day.

What if the years of being in the dark and seemingly buried were just my time to be planted until I grew strong and deep roots? What if the ideas that I am so giddy to share with the world are still so tender and vulnerable that they can easily be destroyed by thoughtlessly uttered words from outsiders? What if I am trying to share the things that God is still desiring to perfect? [If you haven’t, please listen to Pastor Michael Todd of Transformation Church and his sermon series for “Planted, Not Buried” and “Marked” – they changed my life].

To allay those fears, I am committed to listening intently for God’s voice and direction in all things. I cannot tell you how many blog posts I have drafted and deleted because although they were easy to write, they did not reflect what God has instructed me to share. I am committed to doing exactly what God asks of me when He asks it of me, and not a moment sooner or later. For too many years, I have let the approval of man replace obedience to God. I thought being celebrated by others would fill the void that was created by a life lived without purpose but now I know better. Knowing and walking in the will of God for my life has been the best antidote for every emptiness I have ever felt. So in this present reality, even when I feel hidden because there are no audiences to speak with, no readers to engage and no groups with whom to share my gifts, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that being hidden does not make me any less treasured.

Being hidden is a blessing. There are less demands on my time. I am able to learn what is relevant and specific for this season of my life as well as prepare for the coming one. Being hidden allows me to rid myself of any part of my soul that still longs for public accolades more than the private approval of God. Being hidden allows me to know my own heart so that my darkness is not being exposed to me and the watching world on a stage. Being hidden gives me the quiet solitude necessary to ask God to hold a mirror to me  and show me who I really am, away from the smoke and lights. Being hidden feels a lot like being forgotten but they are vastly different. Common things get forgotten. But treasure is hidden. And when such treasure is finally unearthed, there is more joy in the discovery than there ever would have been without the adventure and hard work of digging up and unlocking what the world did not even realize was missing. 

You may be hidden, but you are still treasured.


Transparency (My Superpower)

In 2005, I started blogging publicly. Before then, I had been keeping a private online blog for my own amusement. But in 2005, I discovered the ability to make people react just by sharing what was going on in my life. I would often share specific private details to get a reaction (like the time when I was figuratively bleeding out from a recent breakup and decided to share a play by play of my emotions from one day to the next). To have friends and even virtual strangers tuning in and following my shenanigans online gave me a thrill. I felt important. I knew it was dangerous to share so many intimate details of my life and journey but at the time, I did not care. I liked the attention and most of my writings were in revenge of those who have hurt me. I probably gave access to people who did not deserve it and gave ammunition to those who did not mean me well, but I was too hell bent on being heard that I said forget the consequences.

I did not realize that my oversharing was a perverted version of what God intended for me to do. Without proper relationship with God and the wisdom that comes from Him, I thought my gift of writing was just a way for me to get others to see me, and simultaneously give a not-so-friendly finger to the people I considered my enemies. As soon as I came to Christ, the script flipped. There was so much in my heart to share with people about what Christ had done for me. I had this hyper-awareness of feeling so desperately alone in all my past struggles. It seemed there was no one who understood what I had endured. Being in Christ and having found healing, I desperately wanted to be for others what no one had been for me – a transparent example of God’s redemption.

For someone who had been so secretive about her real struggles, coming to Christ and having Him give me the green light to share my heart with others was absolutely freeing. There was no shame attached to anything I had to share with others. The wounds were healed. Anytime I would share another part of my story and it would resonate and give hope to a young woman whose past resembled mine, my heart would flutter. The satisfaction of walking in purpose never gets old. Sharing my life gave me such satisfaction that I knew I would do it forever. Having others connect with me because my words touched them, helped them or gave them hope made me feel like I was exactly where God intended for me to be. After that, I made the most of every opportunity to be transparent with others.

The first time my openness came back to bite me is still the most painful experience of my new life in Christ. I was called everything from a homewrecker to a hypocrite for attempting to write about my life. Telling your truth and being belligerently  misunderstood is traumatizing. It’s been seven years; I am still working through it. The experience was the first time I questioned my gift and my approach to connecting with others, but it will not be the last. After that, I questioned any of my posts that were too transparent. Was I sharing too much? Who was going to misunderstand my intentions and vilify me for speaking about this? Writing, which had always brought me joy, began to make me nervous. I retreated. I went back to locking my writings up away from the public eye. I almost deleted a 200 page manuscript because the fear of being misjudged and misunderstood if it were to get out (be published) was debilitating. It was the closest I have ever came to abandoning writing forever.

Eventually, God reassured me. Being THIS open and THIS vulnerable on a consistent basis takes wisdom. I know my journey helps other women. I have had that confirmation over and over again. But as I mature in Christ, I have learned that all of my truths are not for everyone. There are some truths that I have shared in my text messages or in front of a live group of women that will never make it online or into a book (unless God says otherwise). Those moments of speaking about my darkness were absolutely terrifying in some cases, but they were God-ordained. And because of that, I have never suffered any loss.

Transparency has been a gift to me. It has allowed me to build the community of sisters that I have today. Transparency requires a consistent commitment to examining your own heart and the willingness to have others hold you accountable to the standards of God for your life. Transparency also requires wisdom. You are not meant to bleed all over everyone who crosses your path. There are specific places – sacred spaces, safe places – that God wants us to go when we are hurting and bleeding out. Those spaces are filled with people God has specially equipped to bind up our wounds. Perhaps through their own experiences or maybe just the wisdom that only comes from Heaven, these ones are especially equipped to help us heal, without judgment.

I have found my save spaces (thank you Wives in Waiting, thank you Stephanie and Chloelle, thank you Maude, thank you Jessica my one and only Beauti Therapist, thank you Tierra Lebbie, thank you to every woman in my church, small group, community and even ONLINE who consistently lend me your ear and your shoulder). When a truth is too raw to be spoken without tears, it goes to my sisters’ inboxes before it goes public. When I have found a semblance of healing or God gives me something to share about my process, then it is my joy to transparently share it with the world around me. It has been a journey getting to a place where my desire to connect with others does not undermine the work that God wants me to do, but I am eternally grateful to be here now- writing, speaking and sharing – and suffering absolutely no losses because of it.

Transparency is my superpower. What is yours?