Skip to main content

Something Beautiful

Yesterday, my anxiety got the best of me.
I missed an event that I had talked myself into looking forward to because I merely didn't want to put up with all of the people. Instead, I ate a late lunch, fixed a cocktail or two, watched a documentary on the Black Panther Party, began reading Huey Newton's Revolutionary Suicide, and went to bed around 7pm. I missed posting and the event.

I don't feel bad about the event. I mostly feel defeated by anxiety. I feel defeated by New York City. I feel defeated by this acute loneliness that comes with this calling on my life. I've come to the conclusion that I'd much rather be alone in my home than to be lonely amongst a crowd of people--to be sheltered and away from than to be bombarded by stimuli.

On days like yesterday, I often wonder about who I am becoming...about who this woman is who has caved in on herself. And I'm not sure I dislike her. She's quiet. She keeps to herself. She minds her business. She has less drama in her life. She reads books before bed instead of scrolling social media feeds. I think I like her. But I worry about her, as well, because she misses events and she doesn't meet new people and she dislikes New York in a way she has never disliked New York and she hides.

I'm trying to be patient with the process of becoming. It feels like a chore some days. But even as I'm riddled with anxiety and anger and alone-ness I didn't choose, I'm forcing myself to believe that there is something beautiful coming--that God is making something beautiful of me and my circumstances.

Something beautiful.

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…

For Colored Girls Who Aren't Afraid to Acknowledge Their Therapist, Pt. 2

A lot of people have read my earlier post (For Colored Girls Who Aren't Afraid to Acknowledge Their Therapist, Pt. 1) about being a strong black woman who unashamedly has a therapist. I've gotten a few comments like:
"Mia! You've always seemed like you had it all together! I'm surprised."
"Mia, this is my life! I've had/I'm having trouble finding a therapist too!"
"I had no idea therapy costs that much! Why won't insurance cover mental health care like they cover everything else?"
1.So, let me say this: I'm grateful to know that I am not alone in this process--that there are friends and colleagues who are doing or want to do work on themselves so that they, too, can be healthy. My generation might be deemed selfish or self-absorbed by older onlookers, but many of us are outchea tryna to cultivate the best version of ourselves--the version our families and communities expect from us. We ain't just outchea overachieving for …