When You Know You're a Boss, But the World Can't See It
- lewaubunifu
- Apr 21, 2025
- 3 min read
When You Know You're a Boss, But the World Can't See It
April 18, 2025
Sometimes, I feel inferior. Not because I don’t know my worth—but because people treat me like I don’t matter, even when I show up as the boss I know I am. Talking to people in power can be intimidating. Even though I have the talent, the vision, and the skill to be a multi-billion-dollar mogul, it often feels like I'm invisible in rooms I should be leading.
Sometimes, it’s not about what you can do. It’s not about your resume, your grind, or your brilliance. It’s about who you know. And while others are handed opportunities on silver platters, people like me—people who’ve earned it—are left waiting for the world to notice.
I’ve often felt overlooked here in the Pacific Northwest. Even back on the East Coast, it was like people never really saw me. But there was one woman—just one—who did. I was in one of my first group homes when she encouraged me to write. That simple invitation led to three published poems in three different books, and by 2012, I released my first book. That was the spark. My creativity found its first flame.
My imagination? It’s next level. I'm talking Kenny Ortega meets Tyler Perry. My ideas are rich, bold, cinematic, and layered. But when trauma sits in your brain, it can cloud your clarity. Some days, I can work for 24–48 hours straight, riding the wave of inspiration. Other days, my mind or body forces me to shut down. The weight of mental health doesn't ask for permission. It just arrives.
And here I am—over 40, still striving, still dreaming. They say God has us where He wants us. Bishop Teejay3k once said, “Being a Christian is lonely. God is a jealous God.” And I felt that. But if God created us as social beings, then why does connection feel so distant? I’m naturally extroverted, but life in the Pacific Northwest has made me more introverted. Not by choice—by circumstance. This place can be cold in spirit, emotionally distant, and socially uninviting.
I’ve always dreamed of being the fun, outgoing soccer mom. Of having friendships like the ones in Sex and the City. But I’ve never had that. I’ve never had a tribe. Not as a kid—where I got beat up for being “too proper” for Black kids and “too Black” for white ones—and not now. It’s always been like I’m floating between worlds.
After a while, it chips away at your soul. People keep saying something’s wrong with me. But I know who I am. I’m friendly. I’m a Virgo. I would make a phenomenal wife, a beautiful friend, and an amazing mom to a big family. I have kids now—not necessarily by design—but I love them with my whole heart, even when it feels like that love isn't always returned.
The truth? I get sad. A lot. But I still dare to dream. My dreams are vibrant—3D, VR, cinematic masterpieces in my mind. I see art in everything. That’s my gift.
As a Virgo—an Earth sign—my peace comes from nature, order, and creativity. When I don’t have access to those things, it shows. Disconnection brings anxiety, burnout, and even physical illness. Earth signs thrive when they can build, create, and stabilize. Without that, we overwork, we get sick, and we crumble under the pressure of perfectionism.
But still—we rise.
Virgos, Taurus, Capricorns—we are the builders, the creators, the peaceful architects of beauty in this world. We seek facts, stability, and truth. We crave order in chaos. And even though we don’t always get the recognition we deserve, we continue to work behind the scenes, making magic out of the mundane.
I may not be where I want to be yet, but I haven’t stopped dreaming. I haven’t stopped building. Because even when the world can’t see my crown—I still wear it.
If you’re an Earth sign or someone who feels unseen, unappreciated, or unheard—keep going. The world needs your creativity. It needs your magic. And most of all, it needs you.
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