When I got my first “big girl” design job, I thought I was on top of the world. This is it, I am on top of the world. I run shit now. I found my rhythm, I found my groove, I was so happy. I had my dream job.

Then… COVID.

What the hell, man?? What is this crap? Sam and I made it work, and the dream job, to our surprise, was basically made to survive a global pandemic. Okay, on a business level, probably not. But on a philosophical level, it really was.. We had a ” do what you need to get your shit done” model and most of the time, we were left to our own devices, created our own schedules, we brought in our own leads, made our own magic happen and reaped the benefits when it made sense. I’m grateful to have had the dream job during the nightmare of COVID-19, because I know not everyone experienced that sort of ease. Lockdown is over. I’m back on top of the world, I have a pep in my step again. I feel really damn good.

And then… CRASH.

WHAT THE HELL, UNIVERSE? What’s up with this? Right when I’m feeling good, you throw this shit covered fire ball at my gut….Er, Face.

I’m sitting at my desk, in my freezing cold office. it’s winter. My office doesn’t have any registers, so I don’t get any heat. The person responsible for designing this house is an idiot.  My friend and manager has to deliver the news. I can’t keep working. It’s only been two months since the accident, I barely just got home. I still have the bright blue helmet on my head, protecting my squishy head from further damage. My mind is very slow, I’ve got major cognitive deficits at this point. Somehow I believed I could go back to work, but in all reality, there’s absolutely no way it would have been possible, or safe, for that matter. COVID was still out there, I’m completely immunocompromised, my brain is spilling out of my skull, only protected by a dinky blue foam helmet covered in stickers and a single layer of skin, I can barely form complete sentences, I can’t walk, I most certainly can’t drive. Im officially unemployed. I wiped away the tears and said to myself, “i’m not going to design anymore. This is it.” 

And this day will be known as the day Christa Lewis Moritz gave up.

Pause, for dramatic affect. Hold, for audience reaction.

HA! I got you, didn’t I? Come on, You should know by now that those words aren’t even in my vocabulary anymore! I don’t do this “give up” crap.

Fast forward a year. I stepped foot into a fancy commercial firm. It was so scary and intimidating, though the people working there were very welcoming and kind. I think I’ll always consider many of them like family to this day. l quickly learned that, no matter how much a company touts how inclusive they are, it doesn’t mean a thing if you or the targeted “diverse” employees don’t feel a sense of belonging. I don’t know if it’s my reclusive introvert personality, but there was something that made me feel like a super outsider. It was no ones fault, nothing I can pin point, just a strange and indescribable feeling of not belonging there. I had the imposter syndrome of all imposter syndromes and I didn’t know what to do about it. I tried to overcompensate, I masked like crazy, tried to cover up both my cognitive and physical disabilities- which was both stupid and impossible and probably unnecessary, I tried to involve myself in projects, and participate in silly banter with the team but I think in the end it all came out terribly wrong and neurologically exhausted me to a point of making way too many mistakes. I was let go just before the holiday vacations began, and it shattered my heart just as much as being let go from my dream job the year before. Why does this keep happening? Maybe I’m not supposed to be a designer after all. Maybe I’m not cut out for this. Maybe I’m more injured than I realized and I really don’t fit in.

Rejections are tough. And after living in LA for 5 years pursuing a nearly impossible dance and modeling career, I can confidently say they really do make you stronger, but your heart can only take so much, especially as a person with a disability. I feel a little more fragile these days, and not as confident in my abilities, especially after the last design experience. I’ve applied for endless jobs, and even expanded my search beyond design. My confidence sinks only a few points with every rejection I receive, but I don’t give up hope, and I don’t think I ever will. The terrible advice, ” Maybe design isn’t the right path for you” will never be listened to, so save your breath. The right opportunity is around the corner, and I can feel it deep in my soul.

After paying out of pocket (Thanks for absolutely nothing, insurance.) for two brain surgeries among other fun and exciting bills, Sam and I just decided to figure it out, again. we’re good at this. we’re a good team… we can do this! I’ve always leaned on the hospitality industry when money was tight- when in doubt, give the people what they want! caffeine, food, or alcohol! I was scared of my disability, once again. I’ve already been discharged twice because of it. How can I manage a freakin’ hospitality gig as a hemipeligic???

What’s my motto, again?

I CAN DO ANYTHING! IT’S JUST, DIFFERENT THAN YOU.

I stepped foot behind the bar. my stomach in knots.

Customer.

oh, crap. Heeyy. How’s it going? Trying to revert to the old script from 2012.

INSTANT SUPPORT. New Homie on my right takes the pen cap off for me.

“I’ll do a lemon poppy seed muffin to go and a latte.”

takes cup: O L  i’m a one handed boss babe.

easy. like riding a bike!

Panic. muffin in bag with one hand???? HOWWW.

homie on the right: i’ll hold the bag! SUPER SUPPORT!

customer notices my left arm: “I’ll just take the muffin too. i don’t even need a bag.” smiles. swipes card. leaves generous tip. customer support. bonus points.

how nice.

the world really is kind, ya’ll.

I think I belong here. What does that mean? I have something positive to contribute to this cafe’. This community. This neighborhood. I feel supported to be exactly who I am here. Masking and overcompensating is not necessary here. I don’t need to fake it til I make it, I don’t have to put on an exhausting show. I feel at home and I’m so grateful to have finally found my way. No, it’s not design… YET, but it’s a safe community in the interim. It feels good to Belong, finally.