“Where have you been?”- the question that my fives of tens of readers may have been asking themselves since my last post. The best I can tell you is that I’ve been. I’ve been working through my shadows. I’ve been cooking things I never thought I would. I’ve been engaged in my son’s maturation, reading old journals, and embracing myself.
In my progress, I’ve come back to writing. Truth is, the last time I started writing I set myself up for failure. Earlier on in life, I wrote with fluidity and transparency. As time went on I changed. Without my realization, so did my voice. I noticed that it leaned toward an undefined spirituality, even though it was not my intention. I was a stranger to myself, existing in the dark space between the familiar (who I was) and the unknown (who I was becoming).
Who is this person? Why was this voice so focused on resolving inner conflicts? It wasn’t clear to me if I was really hurting or helping myself with my words so I stopped writing. For the first time in life, without my knowledge, I was “being”. In my being I had to shut the eff up.
Shut up- be silent.
Shut up- observe.
Be silent and observe during a time when everyone had something to say- and media gave everyone plenty to talk about. I was silent when people who weren’t Black tried to justify All Lives Matter. Silent when the killing of Black brothers and sisters became America’s most watched reality TV program. The energy influx of left over Blaxploitation from the 70’s, newly labeled as “appropriation” . I was silent when feminism and lesbianism somehow became intertwined (again) and when my coif was perceived as an enigma. “It’s just hair” is all I could say. In short, I felt that I was being forced to define my existence based on what everyone else could see and who they thought I should be. Let’s be real- that ain’t never been my steeze. I’ve always been keen on observing the world around me but never considered the universe within.
To clarify, I didn’t ask for any of this- at least not outright… I don’t think. I guess the line between desire and necessity started to become more defined. I knew what I wanted; however, there were instances where desire and necessity were not the same. So, what happens? I fought within myself a lot. I pulled people in and pushed them away. I glorified the people in life that I had to walk away from because I outgrew them. I didn’t understand that growth could be painful. When my son was a youngin’, he would have growing pains; he could feel himself growing and it showed. His knobbed knees would swell before he grew another inch.
I guess my experience is like my son’s, except Absorbine Jr. doesn’t do much to help me. I read a lot about letting go, the power of forgiveness, etc. and learned a lot but questioned more. Isn’t that what your 30s are about…questioning everything? Accepting what’s really important in life? Appreciating that you didn’t OD on Prozac, or Lexapro, or Zoloft because you just “couldn’t cope with reality”? I’m not mocking depression, but laughing at my own ignorance. I had a long-term relationship with Prozzie and Lexie. Truth be told, I didn’t care for either one of them hoes. All I had to do was open myself up to the possibility that maybe- just maybe- I didn’t know shit and everything I thought I knew was wrong. Funny, when I thought I had answers I was also an insomniac. Accepting my ignorance helps me sleep like the dead.
My new voice speaks from time spent in the meantime. Walk and talk with me as I do my best to change for the best.
Such an adjustment will come with many awkward beginnings and endings.