Good God.
I, eh.
I get so frustrated when I’m not able to write, or rather when I don’t have the wherewithal to write. Like… I always have… hold on, ya’ll, I’m sorry.
*loud exhale*
Before I start my yap, are ya’ll cool? ARE YOU OKAY?! I didn’t even ask, how inconsiderate.
Anyways, I always try to keep a journal or some sort of writing mechanism near me, because my brain is constantly on go. If I had a full day, beverages (with my electroloodees), and a fully charged laptop… ya’ll are getting at least 3 books out of me, guaranteed.
I just enjoy telling my stories, which is a very new thing for me. Why? Because I didn’t think anybody wanted to hear them, and I certainly didn’t think that they mattered.
I have been guilty of being in my head, causing myself to doubt my worth, ability, or purpose… Idk if that makes sense to you, but yeah. That’s my truth.
You wanna know what I’ve realized though? Anytime that I can’t lock-in on my writing, typically its because of distractions.
Distractions can be from life happenings, emergencies, inconveniences, relationship issues, or anything that distorts a plan, or route that was established.
My distraction for the week? Sudden grief.
LUH DHET FUH MEEEEEE.
So, storytime. Last Monday, I spent the day resting after successfully executing a women’s event. (We’ll talk about that next week, its already queued up I swear)
I needed to sleep, I needed to eat, and turn my brain off.
The only thing I knew I wanted to do was write. I knew I wanted to spend some time with my laptop, not only to write the blog, but to work on some personal writings
that are OVERDUE. Anywhow, by the evening I was hungry, and decided to take myself out for a late dinner. I said, “Alright, I’ll go get food and once I’m done, I’ll
get back in front of my laptop to knock out some thoughts.”. Easy, right? I chose my dinner location, and settled in pretty quickly.
BABY DO YOU KNOW?!?! Tuh.
*louder exhale*
As soon as I sat my thick (hair tuck) self down at the dinner table, I got an emergency text from my family.
My aunt was in the hospital, and essentially I was being told that we were at the end. Now… a death in the family was just not on my bingo card, especially not after such a celebratory weekend.. but such is life right?
For the next hour, in between bites, I was getting play by plays of my aunt’s status. I quickly alerted my circle on the happenings, because I didn’t know how I was going to respond, and I knew I would need prayer. (For my family as well) By the time I made it to my car, she was gone. Just like that.
I sat in silence for a moment, trying to hone in on one thought, but that didn’t really work; I was officially overwhelmed.
I decided to call the one person who I could say anything to, without a filter, and by the time the call disconnected I was breathing… just a little.
By the next morning, the reality of grief was settling in, and I was hurt. Hurt not only for myself, but for my mom; this was her sister. By noon, tears were falling and I was doing my best to keep it in a row. I longed for safe arms to fall a part in, and since that was not a reality at the moment, I just remained as calm as humanly possible.
*Sighs*
I just feel like there’s always another transition, another wave, a new reality to come to terms with, and I just want to be still. Hear me, not stagnant… still enough to breathe without interruption.
One of my girls texted me the other day to check on me, and she lovingly said to me, “find pockets of joy”. Which let me know that I may not have the luxury of a seemingly perfect day, but I can find pockets throughout the day to laugh, to breathe, and to be grateful.
Because it could be worse, right?
Shew.
I love ya’ll bad.
Talk soon,
Racq