Hello, it's been awhile.
I’ll never forget the night of and day after the news, roughly two hours of sleep, taking 12 hours to barely finish what seemed like the grueling task of eating, one half cup of steel cut oatmeal and 9 or 10 blueberries. Spent the first 48 hours drowning in tears I wasn't familiar with that were birthed from the pit of my stomach, the deepest part of my heart (eerily similar to Angie's cry in that episode of "Power" when Ghost ended their relationship- ouch), questioning everything about myself and everyone around me, what did I miss AGAIN (shame on me) and why was I so devastatingly surprised that things ended the way that they did? Jasmaine asked me for the permission to speak freely, permission granted of course, as she told me that all along, I already knew. And she was right. So, NOPE... at first I could care LESS about the light at the end of any damn tunnel or some glass half full, optimism type shit and the like. I wasn't trying to hear or see anything about how I need to "just pray about it" or about karma or how I dodged many bullets or any other cliche phrase people are conditioned to say to make you kinda sorta but not really feel better in the moment.
A week in, I decided that I could not afford to lose my mind because the world kept spinning, life kept going. And I had to keep going. I listened to Kehlani “Niggas” on repeat 560 times (#whoa) within a 42 day time span (that’s an average of 13 times a day) to keep me from snappin to make sense out of non-sense until I was over the "over" part. Decided to keep my "crazy" to myself. Busted my ass in the gym NO MATTER WHAT WAS GOING ON INSIDE OF ME (even on days where there wasn't a damn thing there) for 4-6 days out of EVERY single week. That's distraction and keeping myself busy. Fell apart on my therapist’s couch as she looked me dead in the eyes and said, "You're used to being mistreated, abused, and taken advantage of... Stop it." I love her for that. You ever been addicted to being hurt or hurting others? That's conditioning. And my apologies to those I hurt along the way, while I hurt and sorted out my shit.
Finished up a 9 page letter of personal closure to a man I loved. Bruised my soul in a way that I had never experienced before, deeply. There was a healing that had no choice but to take place in the middle of those four eggshell colored walls of my work office that afternoon as I locked my door, cancelled all of my scheduled appointments with clients, and felt my heartache almost instantly shift to rage. Pitter affirmed that I needed to feel each and every feeling. Drove home that day and cordially welcomed the necessity and power of self-medication that provided clarity and comfort that night and for weeks to follow amid thick clouds of smoke, drowned in popped corks to bottles of red wine. I wasn't hurting anyone else, so that was coping to me. That's also what maladjustment, depressive episodes, and darkness can look like. That was what the lyrics to songs on a Bryson Tiller album looked like in real life. Anyway, ended up with 6,450 words in that letter that took me 24 days to type. Held all the shit I'd want to say and felt inside on those 8.5"x11" white sheets of paper with liquid black ink, size 12 Calibri font, straight through, no paragraphs or grammar or punctuation edits, without the desire to or intention of ever giving it to him. And for what? It was like we never happened, at all.
Lit that shit on fire with Jessica at the lake, watched it burn as I let it all most all go. I was ready to vibrate and elevate higher. Can't say exactly how long, but for a good while, it hurt to see friends, family, linesisters or strangers carrying life or sonogram, pregnancy, and newborn photos or purchasing baby gifts for others or seeing "expectant mothers" parking spots or the coming and going of Mother's and Father's Day, as I was reminded of the disappointment that flushed over me that Saturday morning it was confirmed that I was not expecting and the late Sunday night I was told that she was, despite our plans. Held on for dear life to false hope as I fought urges to "fix it." Disappointed in myself that I even still gave a damn. Tried to heal the part of me that felt I still needed him. And old shit I just knew I had already worked out a hundred times before. Took a shot at finding the good in the situation, the good that didn't exist. Courtney reminded me of the lyrics to Erykah Badu "Bag Lady", as the last of tears flowed while sitting on my living room floor with her one night. And I played it, for a week straight. One Super Soul Sunday, heard Oprah say that forgiveness is letting go of the hope that the past could have been any different. Carefully selected the battles I'd entertain as I chose peace over being right or reactive. I chose the latter, I forgave. I got in my bag. I cut the bullshit.
63 long days passed before I genuinely smiled and kinda felt like my true self again. That's 1,512 hours, 90,720 minutes, and 5,443,200 seconds of God's precious time (but who's counting) as my heart was reconstructed and I reinstalled. True Cancers, I was reminded by Matt and Lei on separate occasions, verbatim, to take my time getting back to me and to nurture myself until I felt like myself again. So I healed up, focused on myself fully and with certainty. Relinquished the control I thought I had or had given to others to the Father of Time. God made no mistakes. Learned a tough reality about life (aside from the fact that life and people simply suck sometimes) in situations that seem messed up on one end or the other where it appears that someone else is “given what we had” or that they get to "reap the benefits" of that which I was collateral damage or a war casualty,
“The universe ALWAYS has its way of making sure that we all learn invaluable life lessons coming out and end up better off than we were going in. And that from one-sided pain emerges dual blessings, even when we don’t expect nor deserve it. That’s grace. ”
...And also a perspective check. Wrote and talked to myself and God, on some real shit. Declined bad advice to "move on and get over it" by prematurely engaging in relations or relationships with others. Real good woman, real bad attitude, mean as I can be at times, Nita reminded me to stop giving people all of these chances that they don't deserve. So I made no more exceptions or excuses. I decided that in my personal friendships and relationships, I AM NOT YOUR THERAPIST. Redefined my boundaries.
That’s what light and healing looks like. That's what it looks like to save the best and sweetest of love for yourself after YEARS of taking on other people's shit as your own and pouring so much into everyone else and little to nothing in return. You can't pour from an empty pitcher. That's something I forgot. I recall looking forward to nothing more than going home and straight to sleep for days, but not before calling my mama to tell her I love her infinitely for dropping everything she had going on in her life to be with me then and always. And the select and solid few who poured into me, kept me LIFTED and ANCHORED in lovingly painful truths throughout the process, being patient with and protecting me, going beyond their minimum due diligence as a friend, deepening their love and concern as a brother and sister- you know who you are. And knowing now for sure of those who are not. I’ll never forget that, either.
The truth is, you can be the most amazing person in the world to yourself and others and still, that will never be enough when given to the wrong person. You may never, ever get an apology or anything in return because people can only give to others as much of and as deeply as they understand themselves and through the lenses of that which THEY see love, loss, and everything in between (not your lenses). Mommy always reminds me that people (self included) are going to do what makes sense to them and as they so choose to. I wouldn't call that "fair" or "right", but shit, that's life. And if you're looking for a pain free one, guess what? It doesn't exist. The truth is, I am not perfect and never desire to be. I also don't have all of the answers and would never want to. The truth is that I am human and though I am who I am, being human does not excuse subsequent behavior nor does it make anything right with the world. Instead, it's a reminder that we still have work to do within ourselves. So, do the work within yourself. I'd rather let go than to make my problems within, anyone else's problems or live in toxicity or lead anyone on if I am unwilling to or incapable of reciprocating a love to others that I had not welcomed or become well-acquainted with, within myself, first. But, that's just me. We have to get better at how we treat OURSELVES and one another and do so intentionally, with purpose and with privilege.
The truth is, I am proud of having experienced so much ugly and never becoming it. We are not the who, what, where, when, why, and how of what we go through. Who we BECOME is what matters. Not unscathed, I wear scars that you won't see by looking at me, scars that will forever remind me of growth and to never return to that space again. But broken? Never that. And that's lit. Everything we're going through is preparing us for everything that we've ever asked for, everything we've ever expected. Isn't that special? We get what we expect you know, not necessarily what we deserve. I dedicate the first day of the last of my 20s to healing as my gift to you. To make for an easier existence- not to be confused with an easy existence (because it's never going to be easy)- and to make pushing through hurt and pain somewhat more bearable because it takes a little hurt to motivate cha... On day one of any journey from darkness to light, I always say to myself and others that one day- and there's no telling for sure when that day will be- we’ll laugh at all that we’ve endured, all the physical, financial, social, psychological, spiritual, and emotional costs that we’ve had to pay and bullshit we've undergone over all these beautiful years. BUT today, we'll heal.
I'm here. You're almost there. It gets easier, I promise. :)