I decided that in 2019, I would spend more time focusing on my writing and my blog. See, that's one of the things I have been doing as the year is quickly coming to a close. (Yes bih, I said coming to a close. Can you believe it's already November? Macy's already has their Christmas display up? I'm already planning my Thanksgiving menu? WTF??) Planning what is important to me and what I want to accomplish in the new year.
But why? Why am I planning for 2019 when I have an entire 2 months left of 2018? 60 days to get closer to my wants, goals and desires? 1460 hours to make shit happen! 87,600 minutes to get it poppin'! LET'S GO! *Diddy voice* Ok, I got a little too excited, but you get the picture.
We need to re-contextualize strength. Like, what does it even mean to be “the strong one”?
Because it is NOT the absence of fear or pain or desire or disappointment. I believe that we have, in error, taken a patriarchal view of strength and applied it to our emotional sensibilities in an effort to make us appear less weak. They told us that strength and weakness cannot dwell in the same space. Men, for too long, set the expectation for tolerable behavior for women. Women are killing themselves to meet it. And women are cosigning this behavior. It must stop.
I am trying to negotiate an understanding of literal strength, figurative strength and the reality of my actual strength. What does it look like? What does it feel like? How have I previously misunderstood and in turn misrepresented strength. I am currently being forced to confront these feelings of wanting to be strong, solvent and also having to embrace that pieces of me breaking.
I will discuss shame and guilt often during our walk together. I see shame and guilt together as one dangerous pandemic… heart disease. The implications are far-reaching and catastrophic in their impact. Guilt and shame affect our worthiness… the essence of who we are as individuals. They tell us that we were complicit in what happened and in the manner in which it occurred. As such, we should be forever enslaved by the choices of our past. We don’t deserve joy. We don’t deserve peace. We don’t deserve restoration.
Of course those are all lies. Unfortunately, not enough people know this.
I was pretty rough and tumble as a child. I played with my brother and his friends all the time and wore my tomboy title like a badge of honor. I even earned a few bumps and bruises along the way. So, the scab didn’t concern me at all. I'm not a free range parent, but I'm also miles away from helicopter parenting. I mostly let children being children. They run, they play, they fall. The end.
My boy was up in his Nana's lap when she noticed the atrocity on his knee."What happened to my baby’s knee!?!” If your children have a Nana like my children; you know she acted like the boy had staples in his knee. She was appalled. So, I quickly told her what happened according to his father who was his caretaker at the time in question *snicker. At the end of my explanation, I gratuitously added, “And he didn’t even cry.” *insert my proud face
I’ve said it many times and I’ll say it again today. You are your only competition. The moment you start competing with other people; you've already lost. The only person I want to be better than is the woman I was yesterday. And listen, I think the woman I was yesterday is pretty dope, but I know on this journey there’s always room for growth. I cannot compare the today me against the today you because it is impossible to do and it just doesn’t make sense.
In scientific terms, when doing an experiment, to see the similarities and differences in something you would have to watch those things exclusively from start to finish; recording everything. You would need to know all variables or things effecting the subjects of the experiment. And therein lies the problem with social media. You can not see all the variables in the life of someone else.
Having a calendar for children teaches them responsibility and time management. If you get off the bus at 4 o'clock and dance begins at 5 o'clock, you know you have less than one hour to get a snack and start your homework or decompress. If it's time to go and they didn't get a snack that’s on them. They will quickly learn how to consider the calendar and their available time.
I am in my feelings today. In my feelings: An indirect acknowledgement of sadness, regret or some other negative emotion... Usually inexplicable. It's in the same nonsensical family as when you're feeling "some type of way". Other people have no idea what you're talking about when you use these phrases, but you do... even if you can't explain it. That is me right now-- Simultaneously in my feelings and feeling some type of way. I want to understand this space I'm in badly so I can fix it. Is this hormones? Menopause, maybe?
Perfection lacks flexibility. It forces us to BE without movement or allowances. What happens when you stretch a rubber band that has no elasticity? It breaks... And so will you. Perfection is also an animal birthed from the expectations of others. Which is a major reason that it is unattainable.
To be clear, social media doesn’t really make anyone hate their life. You hate your life because you hate your life. You continue to make the same choices, revisit the same places, roll around with the same individual and wonder why nothing in your life is different. I believe Einstein had words to say about that kind of behavior. He called it insanity. Einstein was correct. Imagine that. Unfortunately, you haven’t heard the wise words of the late great Einstein. So, you stay on the ferris wheel. Professing to hate every minute of it. Screaming to get off. Yet, never removing your safety belt. Never standing. Never being miserable enough to stop the revolutions.
I have learned that true restoration comes from being mature enough to hold yourself accountable without attempting to buy or overlook the healing process. Healing can’t be bought and overlooking only suppresses the pain. Shout out to my mama for always loving me!
I am fighting with all my might to dodge the grumpy old man in me, but he’s a feisty son of a gun. I tried to use one of my strategies to avoid negative engagement. I cooked dinner for these people. I retired to my room. I didn’t even eat. Guess what my wonderful, loving husband did? He devoured his food at lightening speed and followed me upstairs. I am intently working. I would like to finish writing. Perhaps then I could enjoy a bath and maybe an adult beverage. He entered the room, walked over to the television and turned it on. Then, he started talking to me.
I know the heart wrenching impact of suicide and the extreme, desperate heart and mind space one has to be in to make that choice. I also have friends who suffer from depression, anxiety, bipolar disorder and perhaps other mental illnesses I know nothing about. I worry about them. I worry when they get to quiet and when they stay away too long. I wonder if my phone is gonna ring with the grief of a parent or sibling telling me they’ve chosen their own final act on the stage of life— I am sometimes terrified by the knowing… the knowing that no matter how beautiful, intelligent, witty and resourceful I find you— that if you don’t see it in yourself what I think doesn’t matter.
You know…. I almost posted a different blogpost, but then that would be compromising my entire purpose and mission. I don’t want to look or sound a particular way to those of you who read my words and keep up with me. I don’t want to portray a woman who always has perfect brows and hair with a fully beat face. I refuse to act like every day of my life is rainbows, glitter and baby giggles. I’m not playing a character on this blog or other social media platforms and I don’t want to. I want to BE who I say I am. And sometimes I’m a mess.
Women are so accustomed to taking care of others. We get taught this from a very young age in a way in which our male counterparts are not. It’s that dangblasted patriarchal society that conditions us. Girls take care of everyone. Not because it makes them happy, but because that’s what womenfolk are for. *chuckle Anyway, we really need to figure out how to carve out time and resources for the expressed purpose of bringing ourselves joy and relaxation.
When people we know, like and or love behave badly we want answers. I honestly think it’s a natural response. Inquiry and curiosity are tools we use to acquire information and keep ourselves safe. We assess situations and people and leverage a judgement based on what we know. BUT… How can we do that if we don’t know what happened and why?
I thought I had somehow been cheated. I’m supposed to be in charge of everybody for the purpose of making life perfect. My thinking was unreasonable, unattainable and unfair to everyone, especially me. If you say you want to be happy, but can’t seem get happy and stay in that space; it’s probably because you are pursuing something other than happiness. For me, it was the ideals of marriage and motherhood; not the reality. I, with all my intellectual prowess, managed to confuse perfection with happiness. Too many make the same mistake.
The regular practice of choosing you will be challenging and rewarding . It will be the greatest work of your life. Choosing you will be a study of what really matters to you and a magnifier that shows if you include yourself amongst those things. Some days you will be elated; on other days your heart will break over all the little and big ways you made everything and everybody more important than you. There’s no reward in that. The triumph is in doing better once you know better.
Today I am writing to reach the sensibilities and cognitive capabilities of good White folks. The power to change the status quo lies primarily with you. You need to say something... At your dinner tables, at your school board meetings, at the deli counter. You know racists. Your neighbors, family and friends express racially charged sentiments that apologetically end with, “you know what I mean.” Or “I don’t mean it like that. You know I’m not racist.” You must call them out.
In today’s world folks are very easily agitated. In an age of text based relationships and catching up only through picture walks and casual stalking on social media; it is easy to see how folks can become disconnected. We all need to do a better job of communicating and connecting with the folks we care about. Isn’t that right?
