Fetishizing Life
When will we stop fetishizing other people's lives, especially when we have no idea what they've been through to get there?
I pride myself on living pretty transparently. But the truth is I haven't shared a whole bunch of things because I just wasn't sure that we were really ready to have those conversations.
Here I am on the brink of 42, working for myself, living in Colombia, free from the stresses of being black in the US. And I'm reflecting on this journey and all the things I get to experience and I can’t help but to think of all the dreams I've had to grieve because I had no idea where my life would head. The truth is that this has been a really really hard journey filled with so much trauma and sadness and loss and grief. Yes I'm resilient. Yes I'm a fighter and strong and all that. But not because I've ever wanted to be...at all. It was the only way for me to survive. There, of course, have been definite bright spots along the way. More lately it seems. But I'm still healing...from a lot. That's why I'm here in Colombia. God sent me here to heal. And apparently that will take a while because I just signed a lease for my apartment.
There's so much to share and sometimes I just don't know where to start. I had story time with my best friend the other day and the consistent look of shock and awe on her face with every story I shared, reminded me that my story isn't quite "normal". It hasn't been a story of a nuclear family filled with love. Or a beautiful partnership with kids and a dog. Nothing I thought of how my life would turn out actually happened. If this isn't a testament to how we definitely aren't in control I don't know what is.
The TLDR (too long didn’t read) of my life is:
Born out of tragedy
Abuse
Didn't have a father, even though one was in the house
Accusations
Labels
Abuse
Escape
Breaking generational cycles
Abandonment
Abuse
Lost myself
Met God for myself
Rebuilding
Meeting me
Finding love
Opening my mind
Trauma
Abandonment
Abuse
Escape
Breaking generational cycles
Healing
Abandoning Abuse
This isn't a pity post and I honestly don't want to hear all the cliches of how it's never too late and God had a perfect plan and God won’t give us more than we can bear and you’ve got this and all the things we say to dismiss people's real feelings and push them into toxic positivity. I don't want to hear it. Because none of that moves the real experience. None of that makes the grieving any easier. It actually hurts the process. Because now you're one less person that can be leaned on for support. We have to learn how to hold space for people. Even when we don’t know what to say. Matter of fact, saying that, “I don’t know what to say” is often more impactful than a “you got this” because it honors that the experience is hard. Allow people to feel. Allow people to be REAL instead of feeling like they always have to dress up their pain for your comfort. Because at the end of the day, that’s what it is. When we are uncomfortable with feelings we demand that others don’t get to acknowledge and express theirs either and that isn’t right…nor is it healthy.
But anyway...I'm people. And right now I need this moment to feel. If that's too much for you then you're not ready to have this conversation. And that's ok. But I'm gonna have it for those of us that are tired of pretending we're ok all the damn time. Knowing full well we've had to grieve hopes and dreams, friendships, partnerships and marriages, careers, hopes to have families and children, hell the whole “American dream” and living in this beautifully melanated skin. That's a lot. It’s heavy. Plain and simple. And sometimes it takes a toll. I’m tired of being strong and trying to “keep it together.” All of those losses leave holes in our hearts that never fully heal. We just grow around it and hope it won't visit at times when we don't have the space to feel it. So anyway...I'm grieving. And God there's so much on the list. As always, I don't know where to start so I'm choosing a random place today.
I left the United States to save my life. I knew I couldn't continue in the toxicity of the country I was born in or I would lose myself, my mind, my peace and my life…literally. The moment that scared me into realizing I had to do something drastic was when I was standing on the top floor of my 3 story loft in Harrisburg, PA looking down into the living room and I thought, "If I were to fall it would be at least a week before anyone knows that I am dead." There wasn't a person that I spoke to often enough or cared enough to sound alarm bells if they didn't hear from me for a few days. It would take at least a week before someone would ask, is she ok. That was a really sobering thought for me. I worked remotely and most of my meetings were with just myself and my schools. Though my schools would think it strange they wouldn't sound an alarm for a month at least. I talked to relatives and friends or people I thought were friends at the time but they had their own lives so we could easily go a few weeks without speaking. So I'd just be there dead. Or hurt so badly that I'd die because no one was there.
Right now, you might be resisting the urge to pull out one of those cliches. Don't do it. I remind you I do not want to hear it. It isn’t helpful. And I clearly didn't die yet. So put it back in your pocket. I just want to take a moment to contextualize what this fetishized life is like. Because no one really knows the extent of how bad things really were.
I share all of this because no one really knows what I've lost to be at this place in life. You all see the smiles and the laughs and the frolicking and the freedom. So, yes I've gained a lot. But today I'm talking about loss. I've lost a lot to get to this point in my life. Let me just name a bit for you:
A relationship with my mother
A relationship with most of my relatives accept for a select few
Myself (though I found me again)
Trust in pastors and spiritual leaders
People who swore they'd be there
Best friends
Friends I thought were best friends
Companionship
Partnership
Dream of having my own children
I'll just stop there because I said a few…
With losses like these comes feelings of inadequacy. Thoughts that something HAS to be wrong with me. Why am I never chosen? Why do people say they’ll stay and then decide to leave? Why do I keep putting people in places of importance in the first place? Why am I so alone? Just WHY??
I do all I can to be a good person despite my life’s influences and experiences. I've done so much work to become the person I am today. Y'all don't even understand who I was raised to be, who I was raised by and how much unlearning I've had to do. It took hella work to get here. Ask the people who have know me since college. I was a damn mess. But I’ve done the work. I continue to do the work. I am a good person. And I know that. But the thoughts remain in the back of my mind. What am I not seeing that deems me unworthy of the things I thought I'd get to experience? Why do my hopes and dreams have asterisks next to them?
Have a mother *well you have one she just won't ever be able to love you in a healthy way
Have a father *well you get one for the 2nd half of your life
Have a family *well you’re related to these people and they technically call themselves family, though they seldom act like it and you get to choose your own because the one you inherited doesn’t value you
Be a Mother *technically you've mothered because you've taught so many children
Partnership *does that technically mean romantic? If we count friendships they can be your partners, right?
See the world *you will, just by yourself
You get the point.
It's a lot.
It’s heavy.
And even though I feel all of this in a deep place I believe that I actually signed up for this. Let me tell you what I mean…
I was watching a podcast that Tabitha Brown, my Big Sister in my head, was on. The hosts asked her a question about how she reconciles her understanding of who God is with tragedies like Uvalde. Tabitha's answer reframed my entire outlook on life. She said:
So basically we signed up for this. We signed up for this life that we are living. The good, the bad, the highs, the lows, the gains, the losses, the peace, the chaos. Each of us read it/watched it/felt it and still signed up for the lives we are living. I signed up for this.
What does that stir in your spirit? I'll tell you what it stirs in mine...
Even though I feel the real feelings of loss and they often break my heart so badly, it hits different to know that my spirit signed up to be the soul that lives in my body. That says a lot about how this story is going to go. Because if I know me, I'm not signing up for no sucker story. I'm here for the big kapow at the end of it all. So that allows me to give myself permission to feel what I feel, when I feel it, knowing that I won't always feel that way. There will be brighter spots as long as I keep showing up from day to day. So I do. I keep showing up and living. Experiencing. Feeling. Loving. Trying. Doing. Knowing that something good will come of it all. Because I trust me. And I know I'm not signing up for anything less than excellence.
