The ebb and flow of something much greater than the sum of all of its tangible parts.
Despite my worthwhile childhood experience in therapy, seeking a therapist as an adult has not been swift action to take.
I am considering how I can honor my empathic nature while shedding the harmful layers of fear of selfishness that have clouded my vision.
If we do not ridicule the landscape which s l o w l y e x p a n d s to allow a tiny stream of water to flow in hope that it may become a strong, running river...
...I am guiding my children towards developing an authentic sense of self, rather than creating an extension of my own self.
This journey includes activating their awareness of the racial intersection of Black and White at which they stand. To be aware of and embrace the beauty of their Blackness. To explore the stories of their cultural heritage through authentic lenses. To be aware of their Whiteness in order to challenge and dismantle structures--both social and systemic--which promote a belief of its superiority over all other identities, including the complexity of their own.
There is a garden for you that does not exist yet. The land is sitting idle and abandoned, but waiting. Sometimes we believe a thing or a person will lead us there, but this is false hope. A job might get us to the city and a love interest might accompany us to the neighborhood, but you must ultimately find your garden on your own.
On any given day, the existence of my body is enough for an officer to follow, harass, and pull me over.
Self-care is not a luxury, but a water source from which we may quench our souls. Okay, so, I've discovered this truth but it doesn't change my situation: I no longer have hours of time to do said soul quenching.
The five of us stood in the ebbing tide of her grief. She took a second glance at our girls. They would perhaps never know the dull sensation of waiting for the company of someone you love deeply, but can't quite recall.