Today’s cocktail: Zombie.
My Resume Is Starting to Look Like Trauma Dressed Up in Business Casual
Every few years actually, scratch that every few months, my life hits a sharp left turn and suddenly I’m reinventing myself again.
Sometimes it’s intentional.
Sometimes it’s panic.
Sometimes it’s boredom masquerading as destiny.
Sometimes it’s me thinking, “If I just become a new person, maybe this time life won’t hurt as much.”
So yeah… I’ve had a few careers.
Trucker.
Budding entrepreneur.
Brand ambassador.
Digital marketer.
Nonprofit worker.
Content creator.
Author.
Social-media-whatever-you-call-it.
And every time, I tell myself, This is the one.
This is the path that’s going to save me from instability, from shame, from feeling like I’m always ten steps behind everyone else who somehow “got it together” by 23.
And honestly?
Sometimes the pivot is survival… and sometimes it’s chaos management.
Because when you’ve lived through trauma real, bone-deep, identity-shaping trauma standing still feels like death.
Stability feels suspicious.
Routine feels like a trap.
Predictability feels fake.
So you chase movement.
Evolution.
Transformation.
New hats, new titles, new dreams.
And the world applauds it until it doesn’t.
Suddenly you’re not “adventurous” or “multi-passionate.”
You’re “inconsistent.”
“Chaotic.”
“Scattered.”
Nobody claps for reinvention when it looks like coping or scatterbrained all over the place. Everyone celebrates your success and enjoys the soils of it but not the journey it took to get there.
But the truth is, every career shift I’ve made came from a real place inside me even when it looked wild from the outside.
I became a trucker because I wanted escape.
The open road, no expectations, nobody breathing down my neck asking hard questions like, “How are you really?” Just asphalt, diesel, and maybe a gas station hot dog that probably violated FDA code.
I became a creator because I was tired of being silent.
Tired of people telling me who I was, who I should be, and how I should show up.
I chased business because I’m trying to break generational curses, become indespensible, but also because being broke is its own curse and I’ve done my time.
I started a nonprofit that feeds the homeless and hungry because I wanted to help people and change the world and I truly believe no one should have to go to bed hungry at night. So maybe I wanted to be the person who would show up for those who need it the most. Even if some days I can barely show up for myself. And now, every pivot exists like a bead on a single string one long story about a person trying to outgrow their pain.
Some people reinvent to impress others.
I reinvent to survive.
Because sometimes you wake up and realize the version of yourself you’ve been wearing is too heavy, too broken, too small.
And the only way forward is to shed another layer, even if you don’t know what’s underneath.
Do I want stability?
Yes.
Desperately.
But I want authenticity more.
I want a life that fits.
Not one that suffocates.
Maybe all my pivots aren’t failures maybe they’re breadcrumbs.
Maybe each chapter is leading me toward the version of myself that feels like home.
A person who isn’t running from their past…
but running toward their future.
So if my resume looks confused?
It’s just because I’ve lived many lives already.
I’ve tried on the selves I needed for each season.
And I’m not ashamed.
Call it instability.
Call it discovery.
Call it PTSD with a LinkedIn profile.
But I call it growth.
And honestly?
I’m proud.
Because at least I never stop trying.
Even when it felt like my identity was a pile of ashes.
I keep rising.
Awkwardly.
Messily.
Uniquely.
And maybe just maybe that’s the point.
Cocktail please?
Gia Beasley,
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