The Internet can be a cruel and unusual abyss of half-cocked opinions and bargain basement analysis, especially when it comes to Black wom...
Choked By My Cape & Tryna Breathe Again
More than once I've mentioned that it's really real over in my fields these days. I'm trying to process all that's happening & maintain my sanity at the same time & I have to honestly say that I've thrown more fits recently than I probably ever did as a child. These fits do 2 things: they sneak up on me & catch me all unaware & they really do help to relieve some of the pressure. I have occasions when I feel so bottled that I can't think logically from 1 moment to the next, reduced to what feels like an inarticulate idiot. Essentially...something I'm not. That amounts to being taken outside of myself. My mother would say I've given my power away, & perhaps I have, but my grip feels mighty loose right now & I'm never quite sure if I've gotten it back or if I can hang onto it in the face of...
I had another fit last night. It was sparked by & granted permission by the surprise escape of some emotions I hadn't even intended to address in a discussion I'm not even sure was related. That's the surprise factor. Well, once it was officially on my conscious mind, I couldn't shake it & that led to the tantrum. On the phone with The Beau, I shouted & cried in varying tones of desperation, torment, & betrayal. Don't get it confused--while I'm not giving a lot of disclosure (because the what isn't entirely important to you) just know that the feeling of betrayal is NOT related to The Beau. I don't need any unwarranted Beau bashing. Anywho.... In the throes of my fit, I could hear myself moving toward banshee status & wondered how to turn off this emotional faucet. I was completely disgusted by the way I sounded to ME, but also felt completely unable to block the fissure that my mouth had become. As I screamed on the phone, I felt like I needed a regular outlet that involved screaming & violence of some sort. This Grace Under Fire trait that I have really has molded me into much more of a composed woman than I'd like to be right now. I do a good job of hiding my tears from others--except that 1 time--& making sure my face still looks the part of Super Woman when in the company of others. I don't do any cussing & screaming where anyone else might catch wind of it. I'm sparing others from my experience. I guess that means that I have not crossed the line that I'm discovering has lured friends across into the Twilight Zone. Where's that? It's when your mind breaks apart from the rest of you & you get introduced to the term nervous breakdown & folks start watching over you like parents trying to protect from crib deaths. Some of my friends have actually dealt with what I'm currently dealing with & found that their shoulders couldn't support the weight. SCARY!! Why the hell do Black women feel like we have to be so goddamn strong all the time? Built Ford tough really should just be for trucks. Anyway, me being able to protect others from my ugly truth makes me feel like I'm doing more of this:
The dumb shit is that concept even makes me feel a little better. The reality on the other side of the wall my emotions have erected is that I'm scared to death of what to do or not to do. Honest sharing, however, has made me reconsider this concept of fear. Beyond the hurt & bitterness that is spreading like an ink spot, I have to take some time to reflect on what I DO HAVE & my true worth. I'm being reminded that stepping out on faith is liberating & that things will fall into place as they should & that it's OK to get creative with my approach to how I live my own Life. It's time I scroll back through some of these posts, get reacquainted with my goals for 2012 & get back on my pony so I can be riding in that direction ONLY!!
We often spend time having pointless conversations. I'm very thankful for the truths shared with me today, especially, & the realistic guidance provided by women telling the truth about their trials. These conversations were pointed & pointing me in the right direction. They make a lot more sense to me than the trendy sounding advice that seems to discount real feelings. Now maybe I'll be able to see some of that "Cumbaya" stuff because my head's been cleared by real Life experiences in real time that I can realistically relate to. So, this is where I'm at now, remembering that:
Imma get myself together. Just you wait &...
Watch me move.