2021- the year that showed me.
If my life were a cassette. Side A was 2020 and side B was 2021. These mfers coincided and could not exist without one another to make this masterpiece of my self titled debut “me by me”.
Earlier this year I felt like I was at a standstill. The old version of me was no longer serving it’s purpose, but the current me couldn’t quite let that “me” go. I could feel the me I was destined to be, but once again, old me prohibited me from authentically being that grown ass Black woman.
I was bounded by my titles. A mother. A friend. A business woman. A daughter. But girl- who was I really?
If I’m being honest I knew parts of what I thought was “me” - habits, environments, thought patterns that I’ve internalized- had to die. And I was scared to let go of what was comfortable- what was familiar- and in essence, what I’ve known me to be for these past 31 years ( obviously I’ve grown but how much of my growth, even trauma was I masking under the sanction of work and keeping busy).
On May 3rd-
One night after talking to my god sister and listening to a sermon from Dharious Daniels, I grabbed my handy daddy journal and wrote the words “ God. . . please show me me”. I feel like he was waiting on this moment cause he soon hit me with “say less”.
Now when you ask god- the universe, your ancestors- for something, please be mindful of what you ask and please be ready to do the work. There were some extreme growing pains but necessary ones to say the least.
There were days, even months, where the thin line between peace and explosion tethered back and forth. I cried, started therapy, journaled, cried even more, journaled even more, and started being honest as hell with myself.
In return, the universe kept confirming that I was on the right track as I’ve never seen 11:11 and 4:44 so many times over and over.
What I realized on this track was :
To be me I have to love my light and shadows. I can’t outsource my love, happiness, or healing. I attract what I am- and that emotionally unavailable shit is dead. I’m actually a simp. I’m soft and I want that in return. I can in-fact trust myself- my intuition- and the God in me to make sound decisions.
I’m not made to consume anything in pieces. I’m a grown woman with a grown appetite. I deserve a three course meal in every capacity- including from and to myself- and if it’s not being offered, I need to reevaluate or take my black ass else where.
May I remind you that:
You can shed your protective layer you used as a child. You’re safe now. It’s okay to release thinking patterns that helped you survive in one period of time cause that’s all you knew. You know better now.
Baby girl do you know who you are, let alone whose you are? May I remind you that you posses the power to literally create the life that you want for yourself. The kids, your mama, the hubby, these n*ggas, these hoes and all the extra bullshit of life- none of that can stop what is for you. Be intentional on what you digest- physically, spiritually, and emotionally.
If any of this shit here resonated with you; What it means to be a black woman, a grown(ing) woman, navigating life while committed to constantly unfolding-then just think of this as the pages in your diary *cues Alicia Keys*.