Black womanhood

Don’t Regift Misery

Yesterday I posted about people in my life who are joy bringers. And as if the universe has an odd sense of humor, today I was in the worst mood. I got more sad news, I am having some weird allergic reaction so I have what I think are hives, and folks were tap dancing on my very last nerve ALL day long. On days like this I have to be careful about my own energy. On days like this I have to monitor myself so that I don’t leak on folks who didn’t cut me. Don’t get me wrong, languishing in my bad mood is tempting but I know that if I don’t get a grip on it, it will get a grip on me. And that is not a part of my journey. So today, I did some things to minimize the risk of me regifting misery. I did some things that bring me joy. First I prayed, because I needed to lean on my faith to get through the day. I ate something delicious. Good tasting food can definitely improve my mood. Don’t judge me. I hung the new art prints that came earlier this week. I am lying, I didn’t hang anything. I supervised the hanging of the prints. I got joy from watching them be hung. I made sure that I found ways to laugh today. I complimented folks today. I also fussed a bit today. I am not one of those folks who try to pretend that I don’t get fussy. I do. And I did today. I needed to let off some steam and one of my joy bringers gave me the space I needed to do that. I am about to sign off for the day and listen to some music, cook and eat some good food, and maybe watch a show that will soothe my soul. If the weather holds up go catch a sunset. I am taking these intentional steps because I am committed to living a life of joy Do me a favor, don’t regift misery. Monitor your own energy. The things you go through are not necessarily gifts that you need to pass on to others. My grandmother used to say you don’t have to look like what you’ve been through. The same goes for the way you behave. Just cause you’re going through some thing it doesn’t mean others want to join you in it. If you have to pass something on, let it be positive energy. So in that vein, here is a shot of the sunset that I took last night. How do you keep yourself from leaking on others when events of your day aren’t feeding your soul? How do you avoid regifting misery? Please enjoy the rest of your day.

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Joy Bringers

I have heard it said on many occasions that we should be careful who we let into our spaces, – physical, emotional, social, etc – to protect our energy. There are some folks who have positive outlooks on life, who energize other. I don’t mean the folks who are inauthentically joyful all the time. I am talking about the folks who can see you going off the rails and honestly and kindly get you back on track without judgement. Folks who can see when life is kicking you in the teeth, acknowledge it, and remind you that you will get through it even if its hard right now. Folks who remind you of how dope you are when the world tries to make you believe otherwise. I have a crew of folks like that in my life, I call them joy bringers. They are folks who will help me find my glasses for the hundredth time but never judge me. Folks who ask what can I do to help when I am having a bad day. Folks who remind me that I can when insecurities are flaring. Folks who make me laugh at myself when I am getting flustered. Folks who tell me bad jokes and make me laugh at the end of tough workouts or meetings. I am fortunate that they are in my life. I cherish them. Today I was talking to one of them about doing a new thing and she said to me, ‘I get that you’re scared but where is your faith?’. Y’all, when I tell you that snapped me to attention. It ministered to my soul. I am still afraid but she reminded me that my fear, cannot be greater than my faith. My joy bringers keep it real. They tell me the truth in a loving way. They hold me accountable without judging me. They laugh a lot and make me laugh. They are pursuing their own goals while cheering me on as I pursue mine. They are so busy focusing on their own goals that they don’t have time to focus on negativity. The thing about having a crew of joy bringers is that you have to become one yourself. You have to do your own work so that as another one of my joy bringers said, ‘you don’t leak your stuff on folks who didn’t cut you.’ It was such a good way to encapsulate the importance of healing yourself. Cause joy bringers will kindly excuse themselves from your presence if you leak on them. I wasn’t always a joy bringer. I was hurting and leaking my hurt on anyone who came too close. As I healed, I was able to set and stick to boundaries, which allowed me to open up more, which allowed me to become a joy bringer, which allowed me to attract joy bringers – it was a chain reaction. Having joy bringers and being a joy bringer has changed my life. I feel like I have become the me that I was intended to be. If you don’t have a crew of joy bringers, you can assemble one by being a joy bringer, it’s the most fulfilling thing you can do. Focus on healing from whatever hurts and traumas you have experienced. Pick 5 people who energize you to check on and say hello to regularly. Take time to focus on what you are thankful for and if it involves people, let them know how they impacted you. Find opportunities to laugh. When folks need you, start by really listening to understand. Most folks are so happy to have someone listen just for the sake of listening it will bring them joy. Generally folks can solve their own problems. Practice just listening to understand what they are feeling. I am grateful that I am now in an emotional space where I can accept joy and give joy. It has definitely been a game changer in my life. Who are your joy bringers? Have you told them lately that you appreciate them?

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Loss

I have not found a way to process loss, yet it arrives unannounced like an unwelcome house guest arriving at an inopportune time.

At times it causes my knees to buckle, my lungs to lose air. At other times I dig deep and power through, trying my best to ignore the piercing that pricks me, and causes my chest to heave, and tears to march out of my eyes.

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Reclaiming My Joy

As a child, words always intrigued me. I loved reading and writing. I grew up in a country where a television in the household was not a staple, and at a time when Disney didn’t produce a new movie every week (insert eyeroll). So words were the foundation for my imagination. Whether I was listening to them on the radio during Sunshine Corner – my favorite radio show growing up, reading them in Nancy Drew or Hardy Boys mysteries, or writing them in my own made up stories, words were my safe space. In spite of being made to read Beowulf and Chaucer in high school (insert second eyeroll), I still enjoyed English so much that I chose it as my college major. And in college, I chose to study Black women writers. I immersed myself in bell hooks, Alice Walker, Gloria Naylor and Audre Lorde to name a few. There, in the midst of their writing, words affirmed me. The cadence of the words on the pages were familiar and validating and my love for words deepened. I wrote more, and me and words enjoyed a long relationship. And then grad school happened. In grad school, words were no longer affirming. They became poly-syllabic and pretentious and instead of being an invitation to another world, words became a hurdle that I was constantly trying to clear. They felt stiff in my mouth, and appeared unpleasant to my eyes. I was forced to read academic writing and worse – I had to produce it. Oh how my fingers and my brain protested at the thought of using a poly-syllabic word when a simple word would do. And if that wasn’t bad enough APA formatting made the experience all the more arduous. There were rules that made no sense to me, fonts I had to use, space recommendations I had to adhere to, and references that must be attached to every one of my thoughts because if someone else had not thought or said it before me it didn’t matter. Words were no longer a safe space. So I relegated myself to my journal. At least in my journal I didn’t have to edit myself. I could write in any color I wanted and ignore every single rule and although it felt confining to limit the words that often came dancing out of my head to my journal, at least I had a space. But one day, someone read my journals without my permission. All of my private thoughts and my precious words were no longer just mine. The betrayal was deep. And try as I might, I could no longer trust the page with my words. So I wrote for work, wrote for degrees, wrote for specific purposes but no longer for pleasure. It was not a great time for me. Without the lilting and melodious words that had been my safe space for so long, I felt like a flat piece of cardboard. I was functional, but I was definitely not the technicolor three dimensional version of myself that I was created to be. The thing is I love writing and reading, I just don’t like academic reading and writing. I don’t want to force my precious words into APA format. I don’t want to validate everything I have to say to someone else’s thought. I want to be free to just be with my words as they pour out of my mouth and fingers. Black women have a history of being confined and restricted, I want to connect back to what gives me peace and joy. I want some Chocolate Serenity. Words are just one part of it, there are so many things I revel in, my blackness, womanhood, sunrises, sunsets, good food, authenticity, healthy relationships and so much more. The chronicle of the journey begins today.

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