Over the past few months, I have strayed away from the things that bring me peace. I have NOT been practicing the self-love, self-care that I preach.
So, I'm going to take a moment to write out out and bring myself to the peace that I deserve and desire.
Let's start with how I used to wake up as opposed to how I wake up now.
I used to get up an hour or so before anyone else. Clean the common areas, drink coffee, sit outside, and just breathe and listen to nature (the ritual was more condensed when I worked for the school system).
Now, I lay in bed a little longer and just sit and stare. I allow negative thoughts to meander their way in. Sometimes they fester and cause tears. When, I'm weak, the tears turn into sobs.
The thing is, I constantly have to shake myself out of those moments.
The universe has it's ways of helping with that.
There's always a customer 😊.
Someone that needs me to touch my light to theirs.
Unknowingly, that has been the calling on my whole life.
🚨Hold on, this is about to get a lil rough.🚨
The biggest, most difficult job I ever had was at the age of 8 on 1/6/1990. I had to ride with police officers, alone, to tell my uncle that his sister, my mama had died.
A time before cell phones. My grandmother was unable to go, I'm assuming I knew how to get there.
The day she died was so odd. I've replayed it millions of times in 32 years.
At the time my parents were separated and she and I lived with my grandma. My brothers lived with my daddy but were with us on this day.
We were all in my mom's room playing board games, just having a good time. Then, my mom said that she was tired.
Not unusual at all. She was diabetic along with other health issues, and put the needs of others before herself.
I remember her laying down and asking for a sandwich. I made it. A plain bologna sandwich.
I was told to go check on her.
One bite gone from the sandwich and it's beside her and she's asleep.
I ask her if she's ok as I lightly shake her leg.
See, I had seen my mom in a diabetic coma so when I had to check on her, I was terrified.
She told me to open the front door. (It's January, y'all). I did. And those were her last words to me.
My grandma had me to check on her again bc it was getting late. I did as any 8 year old and rushed through it and reported back that she was ok
My grandma must have sensed that it wasn't true.
I blamed myself for my mother's death for many years.
I titled this the Waist Bead Rebirth because that's exactly what's been happening with me
Often times I call my waist beads my best friends. They are so much more than that to me however.
They remind me of the bonds that I'm building with myself.
My commitment to myself.
They hold me accountable.
They are my gentle hugs.
They are love notes to my soul.
They serve as my release.
If I could hold 8 year of Sonji while taking that scary ride in that police car, I would tell her the truth.
It's going to be ok.
It's not going to be easy.
It IS worth it.
You are not alone.
You never have been.
And you never will be.