Skip to main content

Living My Best Life Pt. 2

[Read: Living My Best Life Pt. 1]

Day 2 of Fasting...

A few hours after publishing my last post, I was confronted by the despicable news of the Alton Sterling assassination by cops in Baton Rouge, LA. If you haven't been living under a rock and actually care about the state of humanity, you'll understand why this heartbreaking and gut-wrenching event halted my writing. I still prayed today, and meditated, and continued being intentional about declaring my expectations during this time of sacrifice and abstinence; however, it felt incredibly selfish and challenged my perception of self-preservation during times of national crisis.  I walked past a bottle of bourbon in my kitchen several times as I considered taking a shot or six to numb the lack of pain I felt regarding the most recent assassination. I felt kinda bad for not shedding a tear--that my heart, as much as I wanted it to, did not skip a beat while watching somebody's black father/husband/son/brother/neighbor get shot at close range. I know that my ability to not cry in horrific situations does not decrease the validity of my feelings. All day, I felt dry and thirsty for answers and action plans, unable to quench the thirst with wine because I'm fasting, after all, and all of my vices are gone. So I've had the tedious task of facing my emotions, or the lack thereof, head on. That's weird, always. I press forward, however, even on the rough days, because I'm determined to live my very best, most passionate, most purposeful life

I digress. Whew!

Expectations.

7/5/16 - Today, I am expecting a bridge. I am expecting a bridge to carry me from where I am to where I desire to be. I'll even build it myself. I expect to obtain or recognize the tools that will allow me to build a bridge...to build my breakthrough.

7/6/16 - Today, I am expecting an action plan. I am expecting to discover or create a plan for building, for creating, for fighting, for healing. In moments like these, I struggle to find my place in the movement towards justice and healing. I'm learning that my placement in the movement/in life will be connected to my passion . I am anticipating an action plan that will get me from my passion to my placement.

I am expecting to build a bridge that will carry me from my passion to my placement.

Plan: Passion. Bridge. Placement.






Comments

Popular posts from this blog

I'm A Quitter...So What!?

When I was 8, I went to a cousin's wedding in Lansing, Michigan. My mom and I stayed after the wedding festivities to sight-see. One afternoon, we were walking to the public bus and it flew passed us to the bus stop, a good distance away. My mom told me to run! I took off jogging, casually. Frustrated and annoyed, I stopped running. I turned around and proclaimed that I was tired and our efforts were futile. She told me to keep running. Rolling my eyes, I took off in a light sprint and the bus driver was gracious enough to wait for us to catch up (this clearly wasn't anything like the brutal NYC transit operators who could care less about you). We winded-ly climbed on the bus and to this day, my mother uses this story to lecture me about the benefits of not giving up--of not quitting.
Although my mother would never want me to stay in a toxic situation, that experience has shaped the narrative around my vigorous fight against being labeled "quitter."

I'm an overa…

Finding Love after Sexual Assault

Disclaimer: For mature audiences only
I was sexually assaulted on a first date when I was 24. The events of that evening landed me in Harlem Hospital at 2 am with a concussion and a bruise on my forehead (among other things). During the hours in which I took up residence in a private emergency room, I was coached by a nurse on how to proceed--to take legal action immediately or to not take legal action...to complete a rape kit or to not complete a rape kit. It was overwhelming. I also had to take 17 pills, mostly anti-viral meds. It was intense. There was a moment when I looked up to the ceiling and silently bemoaned. "Really God?" I said, as the quick air from a painful chuckle slipped through my lips. I felt like I was in an episode of Law & Order: SVU. I felt defeated. I felt stupid. I felt isolated. And all because I said, "yes." The details of what transpired that evening are not important to this post. What is important, however, is how the lingering trau…

"We Thought You'd Be Next." πŸ’πŸ‘°πŸΎπŸ€ͺ

Recently, my little brother got engaged. πŸŽ‰ But can I just say, Hashtag Triggered?! πŸ˜‘
I was very thrilled that he finally proposed to his now fiance and that I absolutely love her. She is so sweet and brings goodness into his world. I'm so excited for them. However, during my last trip home to New Orleans, a family member was chatting with me about it and asked about my relationship, and then proceeded to say,
"I thought you'd be next." 😣
B*TCH, ME TOO! DAMN!
I did not say this aloud as I was in my father's house (#shondo #imchurchy), but everything in my body tensed up. Every hair stood up on my boiling skin and my heart began palpitating as I attempted to calmly explain why I wouldn't "be next" while simultaneously trying not to burst into tears in front of company. I started rambling about my burgeoning career--about "our" careers--and attempting to refocus the conversation while wanting to jump into the large pot of red beans simmer…