First of all…
Ya’ll are really about to get unloaded on over the next few weeks, this is your warning.
Anyways. I need to talk about my weekend, and we’ll just cry through this together. Deal?
*exhale*
So backstory, about a week ago I expressed to one of my good girlies that I needed a date soon, just us.
Let’s pause there for just a moment. Because I had a desire in my heart, and instead of just sitting on it, I expressed the said desire to the person it was intended for. That allowed them to make room or adjustments to meet said need whenever they had the capacity. We’ll go there another day.
Point is, a few days later she texted me letting me know she'd be available on certain days and we set aside a day just for us. Now the gag was, SHE was in charge of planning, so I was supposed to be ready at a certain time for whatever she had up her sleeve.
Whew, working out that control freak muscle, hallelujah you're worthy.
Anyhow, she picked me up with a new tumbler and a portable fan so we were fully equipped for our outdoor adventure! (My friends love me so well, and they set the standard. So any man that steps… alright.)
We headed downtown to one of my favorite areas by the water and walked over to an area that had a sign that read “Sing It, Memphis!”. Now, everybody who knows me, knows that singing publicly is something that I’m working through; I’m highly insecure about it. AND WE AT A SING-A-LONG?!?! GIRL. But this friend has vowed to push me out of my comfort zone, and she
wouldn’t put me in danger so I yielded. (Whew.) As we’re sitting waiting on the event to start, I am instantly overcome with emotions. Why? Because I’m in a place where I find peace, a park. I’m doing something that may rattle me a little bit, but I know it’ll be fun. And I’m with someone who is a safe space, I knew I was okay.
*Exhales again*
So, the event begins. The host asks who wanted to volunteer to start the first song, and ya’ll KNOW I wasn’t going first. But you know who did raise their hand and say “ME!”? A 7 year-old brown-skinned princess named, Kennedy. She got right up, grabbed the mic, and her mom held the lyrics sheet while
this Babygirl belted out the words with everything she had. She spread her arms, sang from her heart, and every once in awhile she looked straight at me while she was singing. She looked at me so intently at one point that I couldn’t turn away, and tears began to fall. Because suddenly, I was no longer
looking at Kennedy… I was looking at “Little Racqui”.
I began to think about the fearless little girl I once was, the one who didn’t care about what others thought, the one who performed any chance she got, the one who was bold unapologetically. Tears continued to fall behind my sunglasses. And I started an internal conversation with myself and
the Lord that started with, “What happened to her?”. Racq, at what point did you shrink back? When did you go silent? When did you stop singing? Who convinced you that your voice didn’t matter? Who told you that you were too much?
And the conclusion that I’ve come to is that somewhere between childhood and adulthood, every interaction, every engagement, every conversation, every piece of trauma reshapes your identity. Every single moment reshapes who you are, and how you view yourself. Suddenly, you don’t even recognize yourself. You’re just existing, you’re not even living, because you’re not happy. You’re operating as whomever you’ve become, just a shell… no life; your very essence has been sifted out of you.
I know, let’s take a breath.
*Loud exhale*
So, here we go… healing in waves again. Another layer hasbeen revealed, and I have to go back and hold the little princess that lives in
my soul; I owe her that.
I told ya’ll these may get a little more in depth.
Shew.
Talk soon,
Racq