I don’t do tough love. I hate it. I don’t respond well to it. It just makes me feel worse and I either want to fight you or shut down completely. More often than not, I shut down completely. It’s my kryptonite. No. It’s my battery drain. Okay, let’s go back to kryptonite.
The last few months have been difficult. I’m not even going to pretend. It’s money. It’s work. It’s writing. It’s not wanting to write anymore. It’s whether or not I’m parenting properly. It’s whether or not I’m being a good daughter or sibling. It’s whether or not things are going to suddenly click and just make sense. And then after they make sense, will there be a magical list of instructions and directions that appears to me in a burning bush? or however that story goes. I haven’t read the Bible in years. I’ll wait while someone posts in the comments section that my problem is that I haven’t read the Bible in years.
Anyway, I have ideas. I have lots of ideas. I have things that I want to accomplish. I have projects that I want to work on. I have all kinds of things that could lift me from this rut but the truth of the matter is that I’m scared. I’m scared of failing. I feel like I’m running out of chances. I know every journey begins with one step and that’s true but meanwhile, I’m in my closet staring at my shoes trying to figure out what pair to wear to make the first step. They have to be the right pair of shoes. Don’t tell me they don’t. They do!
I wish sometimes that I could wake up in the morning and be in the middle of things. The starting up has always left me full of self doubt. I wonder if I’m capable. If I can be trusted with it. If other people think I”m capable. On twitter the other day, I spoke about how weird I am with compliments. I think I’m awesome. I really do. I have the best time with myself. I make myself laugh. I choreograph amazing drag routines to Beyonce songs. I sit around most of the time in my pajamas and a pair of stilettos because I can. I’m a good person. I mess up but I mean well. My heart is in the right place and often that place is somewhere in my belly. I’m an empath. I feel things strongly and deeply. Not just my things. Your things. Your moms things. Does your dad have things? I feel those too. Pause.
I think I’m amazing. I’m just not sure why you think I’m amazing. And that is what usually keeps me grounded. When I lived in New York, I was given all these amazing opportunities that I didn’t earn and I didn’t really capitalize on. Let’s be honest. I was in the right place at the right time and a bunch of really cool shit happened. I was lucky. I was talented and personable and kind and sincere but so were a lot of people who didn’t have those opportunities. I’m grateful for them but I keep them in perspective.
The truth about the acorn is the tree.-Hegel
It’s not even about regret. It’s about wishing I had made different choices. Not gone left when I should have gone right but maybe slowed down when I made the turn. It is what it is. There’s no Back To The Future IV: Bassey Strikes Back in the future. I’m not wallowing in regret. If there’s nothing else in the world for me, I’m proud of Boogie boy. He’s an amazing child. And growing into a good person. Last week in the car, he told me about this bad dream he had about this giant that was chasing him. I listened intently as he spoke but he went from typical tot to baby Buddha in 4 seconds flat. I wrote about it on his blog so I won’t recap it here but what I walked away from it is “Make friends with giants” or find away to make peace with the things that frighten you. You need those fears to help you grow. The fears aren’t there to keep you stagnant. They’re too push you forward. I’m editorializing his original comment but it’s not too far from the truth. Seriously. go see for yourself.
I told you. He’s amazing. And I’m trying to listen. I’m starting a new writing project soon called Making Friends With Giants. It’s about conquering fears. Silly things that I’m afraid to do, I have to do at least one thing a week that scares me for a year. That’s 52 fears. I’ve already started and I’m working my way up to the giants. Right now, I’m making friends with Smurfs but you gotta start somewhere, right?
Every day is another day for me to try again. My birthday is in 2 weeks. I’m not where I thought I would be at 35.Ten years ago, if you would have asked me where I would be, I would be in Brooklyn. That’s the only answer I could have given you. Ten years later, I haven’t seen Brooklyn in months and I don’t miss her like I used to. I don’t feel like she looks like me anymore.
But my books are still in boxes here. And there’s a bag in the corner that I haven’t unpacked in 4 years. I know what’s in it. It’s for home. Soon as I find home, I’ll unpack. Until then…
I’m not sure what the point of this blog is. I didn’t want Siwe’s death to be the last thing that touched this space. She was too much love and light for that. In her honor, I’m creating spaces for girls like her and me (and you) to heal a bit and feel safe and heard.
I just gotta figure out what shoes I’m going to wear.
PS. 1000 words