I have worked in corporate America. I have worked in inner city classrooms of Chicago. Being a SAHM is still without question the hardest work I have ever done. This is in part because being a parent is more difficult than anyone lets on. My understanding of parenthood was incomplete… at times I think it still is. Being a stay at home mom is a 24/7 endeavor. From the time I wake up until I close my eyes, I am meeting the needs of someone who is not me.
Please don’t consider this a declaration of my unhappiness or complaint. On the contrary, being a stay at home mom is a gift. But it requires compartmentalization and understanding. There have been many days in this social political climate that I was grateful I didn’t have to go to work. Hell, sometimes I don’t even go to the grocery store because I don’t want to see the world. So, I know I would dread going to the office.
This isn’t complaining. This is me, sharing pertinent information. Also… listen carefully, I am not ignoring or minimizing the plight of working mothers. Most of them do what I do while working outside the home full time. For me, what I noticed and miss most was the drive to and from work. You know? Those small periods of time when I was alone to make uninterrupted phone calls or listen to music that is inappropriate for children who can talk. #JudgeYourOwnSelf
Say what now?!?!?!! Is this really happening? I was simultaneously mortified and totally excited at the same time. Rob… since we calling him that now… Rob wants to talk to me on the phone? On the inside I went into total teenage girl mode. Conflicted, shocked, elated, scared, annoyed and gassed up all at the same damn time. To him I said, “Oh, ok.”
I was shocked because his brother had confirmed what the world wanted to know so badly. R.Kelly and Aaliyah were engaged in a kind of relationship that prevented him from approaching me, another girl, directly. I was conflicted because I was a huge fan of Aaliyah. Was I willing to betray her? Also, does he know how old I am? I mean I'm totally mature, but I'm just wondering. I looked down at my plaid uniform skirt from my single-sex high school and resolved that to him age truly ain't nothing but a number.
I love this platform… this blog I created to share my experiences and express myself. On the surface that’s what this blog is. It’s a tangible conduit for my thoughts. In essence, it’s a journal. A very public journal. Everything I write here is true. Don’t get me wrong, I love creative writing and I have some of that in my repertoire too. Still, the only creative license I take when writing here is the names I change to protect privacy.
I use my life as a catalyst for reflection. I am transparent to influence and impact those who humble me by reading my words. I think it’s funny though… Sometimes, I start writing and I influence and impact my own self #Winning. It can be frustrating because I start writing with the end in mind and then I get in it and reflection takes me somewhere else. I love writing. I love reflection more.
It follows that the time we get to live our best lives for our best selves is also incomplete.
I remember when Aaliyah died. I was so hurt. I met her once, but I didn’t know her. Still, I cried and lamented on a life lost way too soon. She felt like a friend. Her swag was ridiculous, we were close in age, and everyone loved her. Her death felt… close.
The one thing that made me feel better after her death was the life she led. She came from a wonderful family. She experienced great love and she accomplished so much. Regardless if you liked her singing or acting— She did it all. Aaliyah was a successful, world renowned artist. She was going for it. She was striving to live her best life. I was so proud of her for that then… even as I failed to give myself the same gift.
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.
Women, we need to share our stories. Your friend is smiling every day and is devastated by things she thinks she can’t discuss with you. She’s struggling with something you can’t see. Your daughter thinks she needs to suck it up because you did. Tell her the truth… your truth. Admit you wish you didn’t have to suck it up. Tell your daughter about the mistakes of your youth. Be as specific or as vague as your comfort level will allow, but tell the truth.
Too many of us suffer in pain and silence because of perceived judgment, shame and stigma. When we speak truth by sharing our stories we normalize those things we were once ostracized and isolated by. Do you know how many times I have revealed something and heard… Are you serious, Stephanie??? Me too! Telling the truth helps you reclaim your power. It draws you to women who have yet to secure the footing it takes to stand tall and speak their truth. Truth unifies. Telling the truth says I know I am enough.
My experiences do not minimize me; they elevate me.
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.
Anytime you have the desire to lie you need to stop and reflect. Fear is the only reason we lie. We keep secrets because we don’t want to feel the judgement of others. While no one may ever know the truth; you will always feel the shame.
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.
Isn’t this what often happens between women? Particularly in the workplace. Men pulling strings that shouldn’t exist. As we often say…. It is what it is. I guess I can get with Angela deciding, initially not to work with Nuri. *slight eye roll. The truth is— Angela hit her #ChooseYou dougie on Nuri and I didn’t like it. Her behavior indicated that she was the most beautiful, powerful, worthy person she knows. We MUST fight the urge to begrudge women this right because it does not fall in line with what we believe we deserve. There is enough of everything we desire for all of us. You might just have to wait your turn.
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.
In our current society we are becoming so removed from the people around us. Authentic relationships are suffering because we prefer texts over a five minute conversation to say “I miss you and I love”. Our children are being raised by YouTube and the Disney channel. Some of that is because we need help, but for whatever reason don’t ask for it. Thank God for friends who will come get my children or who bring theirs to me. Your circle of influence extends to your children.
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.
So, first we have to acknowledge the facts. We are plus size. We are overweight. We said we wanted to lead a more healthy lifestyle. We KEEP saying we want to lead a more healthy lifestyle. We had three seasons to get our life together. Fall, Winter and Spring have passed. We didn’t get our life together. To that end, we are still chubby. Is there anything wrong with that? Nope— Unless you want to be something else.
