From her earliest years in Alabama, Arlinda absorbed a conviction that love was conditional. Her mother's departure and the grandparents who raised her in her absence helped to shape that belief. Arlinda reinforced it through achievement, performance, and the relentless demonstration of her worth. By the end of her life, Arlinda confronted the question, "Who determines the value of oneself."

Arlinda went through life believing herself to be an outsider. In Alabama, she was raised by her grandparents, not her parents. During the family gatherings, she felt included, as she had grown up with them from day 1. However, venturing past the racial boundaries brought on a sense of dread that something awful could happen. She was never allowed to be truly herself.

When she was reunited with her mother in Cleveland, she had difficulty integrating into the family. She viewed her mother's trek north without her as abandonment, like she was unwanted. Arlinda sought out achievement to gain the affection of her mother. If she could dance enough, perform well, become famous, then maybe her mother would not leave her again. It took many years for Arlinda to reconcile that fear she held. Before anyone could abandon her, she took the opportunity to leave for San Francisco.

Continuing her upward climb in the ranks of Eastman-Kodak, Arlinda found herself valued as a customer-facing rep to the clients of Kodak's printers. But her trajectory faltered, and Arlinda jumped to a dead-end job until she found an administrative assistant position at a large law firm, Thelen. Law firms are notorious meritocracies. The more you give them, the more they take, and the more rewards they bestow their "valued" employees. It is no wonder Arlinda stayed with them for 20 years. The two partners she worked for were magnanimous with their praise of her. She was a vital element to their success as attorneys. And she kept proving their high esteem of her.

In this co-dependent work relationship of meritocracy, Arlinda valued herself through the approval of others. It generated a cyclical movement of Arlinda gaining confidence to become even more integral with the law firm to show how valuable she was.

Arlinda had learned over her lifetime that each promotion, compliment, stage, and trophy was another attempt to answer the question she had carried since childhood: Am I worth keeping? The law firm gave her the loudest affirmation she had heard, and it never lasted past the next day’s work. It would take illness, and a love she could not earn, to show her that the answer was never going to come from outside, anyway. That is the question at the center of For Once in My Life. I suspect many of its readers are pondering: Who determines the value of oneself?