Day 44: Outpour
Life. Life is hard. There is nothing compelling or unheard of in that statement but it’s just so undeniably true that for me it goes unacknowledged. I was raised to be resilient. My daddy and my daddy’s daddy and his before were blue collar. My granny worked in the plant for GM for 20 years. We pull ourselves up by our bootstraps, pray and keep on truckin. While I value the sentiment, the adaptation into my own life has worked to preserve me and divide me. I feel confident navigating life with a sense of invincibility because I understand that no matter what I won’t give up. However, rarely does that state of mind allow the space to just feel the weight of the world and then trail it with relief and confidence. Sometimes “it is what it is” but sometimes what it is, is hurtful, devastating, painful, difficult, suffocating and a myriad of other sensations. And thats okay.
Ancestrally, resilience had to be adapted—Had to. Even now you just won’t make it without being able to be strong. But is strength so limited that it has one definition? I’m embracing the strength of acknowledgment, the strength of vulnerability, the strength of transparency. Out of respect for the complexity of my very existence as human I will continue to grant myself the opportunity to feel— now, they don’t get to stay, all emotions come and go — if you let them. No matter the feeling its just passing through until next time. I have always felt bad for black men. To have so much value placed on your masculinity and then that be able to be compromised by the nature of your species, it must be hard. Who told you it wasn’t okay to cry? Let the healing water flow, they always dry up.
I hate when a man tells me to “stop crying”. Like no, fuck you. You’re not going to push that virulence on me. In recent times my father has told me to stop crying and it broke me even more because it only feels like assassination of my inner child. She’s the one who’s crying. I’m still her. I refuse to let her die. She’s my baby. If I kill her then who am I anymore? Thinking deeper about that I immediately can see how the reality of that mindset is a coping mechanism for having lost my mommy. I’m looking at her now— what parts of her remain. What parts could be scorched and returned to me in a little black box. Tonight I held that box and cried and cried and cried. I embraced it like she could feel the hug from beyond the realm. It was prompted out of stress and being overwhelmed. Which are usually the catalyst for my grief to resurface. Right now I am overwhelmed and worn out. My life is energy taxing. Having 60 kids to teach is exhausting. Not having a car is draining. Sleeping on an air mattress prevents my rest from being restorative. I am learning what and how to teach as I do it and the learning curve is steep. Shit skressful bruh. And it was all the perfect storm to release it all. The person that would have an answer for me rests in the confines of a box now. I’m sad at her for leaving me, although I understand the entire picture. Life is hard. It’s not a competition. No one goes without suffering, even the rich and white. How do I let the pain subside if I don’t let it release from my body? — Thank you D for stinng with em and giving me space to emote.
It’s grieving season for me. March 1st is 2 weeks aways. The day my granny said hello, and the day we all said goodbye. I miss her so much. But I trick myself into thinking I don’t, it’s how I stay afloat. Now is the time I sit in it, bask in the pain—knowing it can only cut me so deep now. I’ve built a callus of understanding. An understanding what what I do know and an understanding that that which I don’t I may never but I know who does. But the reality of not having a mommy still a gut-wrenching. Baby Morgan still cries out for her mommy. Adult Morgan still pours out for her mommy. We keep it pushin— but first, we cry.
Day 42: Rest
Right now I find myself between a rock and a hard place. I am nothing without my hands but I struggle daily with them. Today I’m giving them a rest. My profession and my craft do not serve me physically, unfortunately. My last quilt commission did some serious damage and typing daily hasn’t given them the space to heal. Hoping this little break helps a bit. Taking it easy today, I hope you’re doing the same. Sending love.
-M
Day 41: Knocking
I just got home from my first date with myself since I’ve been in Milwaukee. I took myself to see Kanye’s new documentary, “Jeen Yuhs” and dare I say I walked out feeling inspired. Theres a lot that can be said about Kanye and his arrogance, something he said, did, who he married, his mental state.. (whatever).. The film is part 1 of a trilogy and gives an in depth and intimate perspective of Ye as he was trying to break out of the producer box and gain respect as an MC in the early 2000s. I don’t want to say too too much but in short you’re just watching someone with raw talent and ability press towards what they know they’re worth. And I mean PRESS. If you knew you had something to offer why wouldn’t you knock at every door available to you till you get to where you need to be? Seeing Donda West on film and witnessing the sacredness of their bond was cathartic for me. The way she believed in him and how she poured into him from day one. “Kanye” means “only one”, she must’ve known from birth he baby was a star. My mother named me,“Morgan Chandler” for “Great Light”…I wonder what she saw in my eyes the first time we met.
I’ve had words of empowerment, reassurance the promises of God poured over me my entire life. However, my confidence was cut down in middle school and I’m only just now truly shaking off what remains of the poison spat at me (I actually did have a white girl spit on me once, but that was in elementary). I can’t help but wonder how much further along I’d be or how different my life would be if my confidence was unshakable when I walked through the valley back then. Can’t think too much on it because I am where I am now and everything that has ever happened to me has landed me where I’m at now. I’m happy and content now but there is greatness in me that needs to be unleashed. I’ve always known it. I have that thing, something about me I can’t put my finger on but its there. However, I can’t find a more unattractive attribute someone could have then arrogance. It’s a turn off for me when meeting someone. In an effort to not be that way I think I adapted the opposite end of the spectrum but to a fault and it’s time I get out of that. Sabrina Nelson introduced me to “her guy” (thats what she always refers to him as), he’d seen my Detroit Performs set and started to compliment me and speak highly of me and said he wanted to continue conversation at a later time. In an effort to show meekness I shot it down and said, “Oh, I’m just a black girl..”, immediately he pushed back in a stern voice and said “You are not just a black girl.” I don’t even know why I said that, I don’t even believe it, I know it’s not true. But for some reason (that I really need to start investigating) I have always struggled taking compliments that didn’t have to do with my looks. For a long time I centered my worth on what I could be for other people. I’ve crowned myself for knowing how to truly love another person. But I know the most valuable of the treasures that reside within me have yet to come into fruition. These very Journals may be a part of it. I have a voice worth listening to, this I know. But I’m still examining what it was meant to say… (Maybe stop examining and open your damn mouth.)
Say what you want about Kanye the man set out to pave a way and that he did. Confidence truly is the key. Arrogant, I will never be. The type of attention arrogance gets you, even if that be fame, I’m not after. I do not seek to be praised by the masses, but I would like to be able to pour into the masses. All this love I have in my heart wasn’t meant to be reserved for whatever man I’m into in the moment. Truth is I really like myself as a person.. I got that thing and I should walk and talk like I know I do. Officially adding “confidence” to my shortlist of changes to embody this year. My pastor, Steven Furtick, titled his sermon, “Don’t stop knocking”, this week. As in don’t stop seeking the Lord and pressing towards your blessing. It planted a seed in me to submerse myself in my word and not leave God alone until he touch me. Watching the film tonight water another seed planted in me a long time ago, one that I will not reveal in words but will just keep knocking until I find myself at that door. Time will reveal & bring it into fruition.
Thanks Ye.
Day 40: Why I chose to follow Jesus
Today was a seamless day. I’m getting into a new normal. A new healthy normal— one structured and moved about with intention. It feels so good. This week I started spending intentional time with God right after I wake up. I just sit naked on my bed and be as honest with where I’m at as possible.. it feels good to be transparent. I’ve been listening to my bible while I get ready and playing worship music while I prepare breakfast. It’s such a palette cleanser and provides me with sustainable for the day. There is only one reason for this seamless day, this new found joy and the acceptance of self— Jesus.
When meeting new people I never lead with my “Christian” status. I use quotes because the word itself is just so heavy and laden with so many different connotations. It’s a box. I hate boxes. I also feel like the word provokes character assassination. I am Morgan before I am a Christian.. but I am a follower of Jesus of Nazareth before anything else. And although I was born into the church, today it is a conscious choice that I make daily. I take serious issue with the how many who have branded themselves with the label of Christian go about “spreading the good news.” I’ve watched as pressure and judgment have been applied in order to bring people to God.. or not even that but plant fears of Hell to scare them into loving Christ. Which doesn’t make a lick of sense because if its love will you feel it out of fear? That was my introduction to God. And it only further separated me from finding truth for myself and delayed my growth. I was too caught up trying to make sure my actions were perfectly aligned with the shortlist of what not to do (not even commandments). I am human and I fall short daily, how can I ever be saved if the fait of my souls lies on the merit of my actions? If that were the case then we’d all be fucked. Our good deeds are as filthy rags when juxtaposed to that of the heavenly places. For years I struggled with condemnation, fear and shame. It was uncomfortable. I remember being at an alter call some years ago and I was seeking the Holy Spirit. In the church I was raised in the only evidence of having the holy spirit is to speak in tongues [False]. On my knees I cried out, “I’m not worthy! “I’m not worthy!”. As if I were worshiping some far-off God that delighted in my self degradation. FALSE. BACKWARDS. UNTRUE. Thats not love. God doesn’t want anyone to be scared or pressured into loving Him.. would you?
Contrary to popular belief, my favorite thing about having chose to know Jesus for myself was that I get to be myself. When I wanted to experiment with my sexuality and have my “hoe phase”, I consulted with him about it.. Like, look.. This is just where I’m at right now and this is what I want.. I ask you to be there with me. Operative word in that sentence is WITH. I never want to be separate from God, thats scary. When I’m in my mess I take Him with me. I’m supposed to cut a fool and isolate myself from God? How does that work. But I had to truly have it it embedded in my heart what He meant when he said he would never leave or forsake me. That means, we in this thang together, bonded till the world blows and ever after. But to have a genuine love for the almighty means I don’t take that for granted. Grace is not a get out jail free card that you swipe every time you wanna go do you with no intent to change. Thats taking advantage.. not love. When I smoke and tap into Him and it just hits different. Some would say it’s backwards, I would argue that it’s medicine made by His hand. I can’t think of an act that I would want to carryout without divine supervision. It’s not like you aren’t under constant observation as it is. You can’t hide anything from God. The only one getting lied to is yourself.
I know in my heart that I have been separated from all I know and love because He’s been wanting to get alone with me and I Him. And it has been wonderful, illuminating and liberating. Obedience is so crucial, and the thing is its custom. Whats for the next might not be for you and vice versa. To obey instruction is to put the ball into play. The plan has been pre-made for you boo. There is a reason why you are being told to do or not do something, it’s all for your betterment. Engraving it in my heart that God is good and “good” is a noun and not an adjective. All things work for the good of those who love the Lord. That means my house fire in high school worked out for my good. My parents divorce worked out for my good. Being sexually assaulted worked out for my good, my mom passing when she did worked out for my good in a major way. Or it may help some else which is for my good! I don’t have all the answers but my faith is strong and so is my trust for the Lord’s intentions for me.
I don’t care what anybody says Jesus is for everybody. And I say that meaning that Jesus loves everybody. You choose to rock with who you rock with but don’t let any self-righteous, judgmental, ass-backwards, Sister So-and-So convince you that you are unworthy of the love of God and the freedom of truth. Gay, Pansexual, Transexual, Two-Spirit, Queer.. whatever color you bare, Jesus loves you and will take you as you are. I think it’s disgusting how the church has drawn lines that are separating whole souls from connecting to something that might be just what they needed all along. It’s not fair and it’s not right. I had to shake off my judgemental preconceived notions about who was worthy and who wasn’t. I’m no different than anybody else, my shit just stinks differently then yours does.
Another lie I had to conquer was that I needed to do the work to change whatever was needed in me before God would step in..FALSE. I am weak and draw all my strength from Christ. He’s just waiting for you to hand over the wheel. You grow together. Anything in need of changing or releasing, you do it TOGETHER. And guess what it doesn’t happen over night. And guess what.. thats okay. And when you fall short there is no shame but only love. Again, He’s already hip. But submit yourselves to His will and His way and let it flow through you. Ask for him to empty your vessel of impurities and make a dwelling place in your heart and He’ll do it. But you have to be open to it, you have to surrender.
Confess with your mouth and believe in your heart that Jesus is the only begotten son of God who died and rose again so that we may have eternal life and eternity is yours. Of course that is just my take on reality and you may have your own take. You have to respect differences to be able to connect to people. You can’t just shove your truth down another’s throat. Spirituality is a personal journey. But I will say, that making that choice for myself was the BEST decision I have ever made and ever will make. It’s so real to me, I encourage all to give Him a test run. Try Jesus for 30 days and see how your life changes. Theres no subscription fee and you get a eternity long membership— might be nice.. Just sayin.
Day 39: Cut the bullshit
I’ve been in a space of trying to hack my brain and figure out whats “wrong”. And by that I mean identifying the characteristics and patterns about myself that are no longer serving me or have directly contributed to my down fall. It’s like trying to solve a Rubiks Cube— and baby.. I ain’t never been able to solve one of those. As a teenager the perception of my flaws were from a single perspective and they were all physical. I didn’t have the same introspective abilities I have now (for obvious reasons). I remember when my Auntie Peggy told me I was self conscious, and said it as a matter of fact. Inside the words tore whatever image of myself I thought I was masquerading as to bits. What hurt even more was that I wasn’t as good as I thought I was with masking. Then came the insecurities. Insecurities constructed from the pursuit of the unobtainable— perfection.
It is now as I type that I officially accept that I have been a perfectionist for all my life. However, it always went undetected because I drew clear lines of separation between myself and those who claimed that word for themselves or defined themselves by it. “Im not like her at all,” thought in a judgmental tone. But the one who suffered the most judgement by my hand was myself. I have held unattainable expectations for myself across the spectrum of my life.
In my relationships with the opposite sex as much as I love love and to be in love, I shy from intimacy because true intimacy means sharing the rawness held between myself and I. I used to care more about how other perceived how I looked but that has faded some. However, one thing I have safeguarded was my image and my reputation. I never wanted anyone to be able to say anything bad about me. This has caused me to develop habits of remaining neutral (within reason of course) to avoid someone forming an opinion of me. I am non-confrontational by nature but have held judgment for woman who “can’t control their tempers”. I used to always judge other woman and put myself on a pedestal where they fell short. Even if I didn’t realize thats what I was doing, thoughts in the same area as “couldn’t be me” were in abundance. I’ve spread the number of sex partners I’ve had out and kept the number below a certain figure intentionally to prevent labels from being put on me. Morgan has had me under lock and key with expectations and quite frankly its exhausting. And it only leads to a cycle of disappointment and questioning everything I thought I knew about myself followed by another surge of will for change and the repeat.
I have been stuck in a loop of sorts. I make absolute statements over myself and declare I’m done with something in one moment and as that fire dulls down I’m right back where I started. I can’t say how many times I’ve declared that I was done smoking, never gonna talk to (whichever) him again, done eating ___. It’s time for me to just accept that I am not a cold turkey type of person. It’s time for me to accept that I have put unrealistic expectations on myself and have withheld grace, love and understanding when I fall short. Boundaries are golden and discipline is a treasure. For years I haven’t been able to set them or just accepted that I had no discipline. But in fact that isn’t true. I have been out of sync because the decisions of change have not been made in alignment and understanding within my whole being. No full body understanding of why I am doing something but instead shame and judgement followed by yet another snap decision for change. God’s grace is sufficient for a reason— it takes a us a minute to get it right and that is OKAY.
I think I finally got a face of my cube one solid color.. We’ll get there with the rest someday.
God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference.
Are you a perfectionist? — talk about it below
Day 38: Nine Year Journal Archives:“The S. Chronicles”
8/6/13
She sits, she waits, she stops, sits, waits, stops, listens, waits, then stops again. She sits, she wonders, she cries,. She prays. "Why Lord? Why do things in life happen the way they do? Why do I always fall short? Why Lord? Father, do you hear me? It seems like no matter how much I pray no matter how long I'm on my knees, or how many tears go down my cheeks you do not hear me. I'm sorry if I'm being impatient father, but how long?! How long must I sit, wait, sit, wait, pray, think, sit and wait some more? You say ask and you shall receive, but I've been asking Father and yet I still, sick, wait, cry, think, say, wait, listen, wait, wait, wait and wait some more! At least tell me how long. Give me a sign. Are my efforts in vain? Do they go unnoticed? Do I spend my nights and days waiting for nothing to come? The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away but did you have to take this one away Father? Did he have to go? She said thanks and realizes it is not God who is to blame.
8/7/13
Moments turn to seconds, that turn to minutes, that turned two hours in days. Days to weeks to months time is yet a haze. We do not see the future but we live in the present hoping the past will go away. —Life— caught up ever so deeply in an unbalanced love. Balance, equality, equilibrium, actuality, same. A feeling that wants to be shared. My love. Expressed. To you. Given to you. And you alone. It's so not be questioned. We long for someone to love. Someone to call our own. Am I wrong? To give my love to you, to watch you dispose of it, and to react? Am I abnormal for the way that I feel, or am I just, a woman? Tell me, my love. Am I wrong for giving you my love? Am I full? To see such greatness in you and to desire to only add to it. Return it to me! Give it back? …No, no, it's yours. You keep it. But at least have the sincerity of a man and a true lover and give some in return. Make me not a slave. A slave to your false hopes and blind ambitions. Turn me loose, make me a full no longer. Infatuation was never an existence. Melodrama, I think not. Oversensitive am I? Maybe. In love with you. I am. Reality turn reality.
Why do we crave love? Why is it that we long for something to call our own? Why is it that we are not happy until we find a soulmate? Why can't we stand the feeling of being alone? Why is it that the thought of loneliness depressing to us? Love, it gives to the world to keep going on. When life presents you with flips and turns, what do we count on to get us through? Love. But why? What is it? In the world with billions of people and millions of options knowing that you are 1/1,000,000,000 does something for us. Knowing that it's you, you're the one, that strengthens us. You and you alone are in a position but not another person on this earth has. We, as humans are born into the world and complete, hoping, searching, looking for the other half be the one that will make your asshole. We need love. We need to feel love, taste love, touch love and hold love. It is our nature and it is the one thing that keeps us going every day.
It's crazy, the love I once had for you, has yet to dissipate. It's still waits for the love you once had for me. My heart still beats to yours. And although I do not know how you feel about me, or even if you do still love me, I love you. I wake up every morning and you were there. The first thing I think about each day is you. Every night I dream about you. I dream of talking to you again, being held by you again. I dream of our love being revived. Every day I pray "Father, bring him back to me." "Father how long?" "God, I know it was meant to be, how come I wait so long?" Every week I sit back and watch as you "do you", and as selfish as it may seem, it hurts. I desperately wish it didn't, but it does. It leaves me with thoughts like, "Why didn't you ask me?”. "What have I done?” But deep down none of the things you do make a difference in how I feel about you. I still love you. What can I do, but wait? Nothing. I realize the fault in my past doings and have made adjustments. I'm ready to be yours once again. I'm ready, to be your lady again. I want to be your lover, for the first time. To connect with you, to become one. To be your wife, to bury your children and son, “Maison” , "M" for his mother, and a daughter "Sloan”, “S” for her father. I long to grow elderly with you. To be by your side. How long?! Must I lay alone at night begging God to "Please God return my love to me, father please! "I wait growing impatient growing weary, security weakening. Hope, is becoming is lost. No one can ever question my loyalty to you. I am single, however I am not on the market, men, they come in yet I have nothing to offer them. I would be of no use to them. I am taken. Who is ___? I do not know this woman. I don't know a thing about her. However I do know that you are together a great deal of time. Who is she to you? You told me she was your friend, and I suppose those activities you were engaged in together were “friendly”, however her existence in your life annoys me for some reason. I'm probably just jealous. But Holiday Park? That was our spot. Little things like that hurt my feelings, and I really wish they didn't. But you're not doing anything wrong, you have no obligation to me. You don't have to put my feelings into consideration, or even think about me. But you know, it would be really nice if you did. And then again, I'm probably just trippin.
What do I know? I'm just a fool in love.
Y’all. I just can’t with my younger self. God bless.
Day 37: Agency
“I’m trying”. It’s a statement that rolls off my tongue so often and so easily that I don’t realize what I’m really saying when I say it. (Try- “to make an attempt or effort to do something”). I take issue with that statement and how I’ve let it run my mind. I often equate my “trying” to how badly I want something to work out but in reality there has been no ACTION to making it happen. “I’m trying to figure out..”, “I’m trying to get myself together..” “I’m trying to get out of this hole.” I am sick of those words—But what else to you do when you feel powerless? Alone? Isolated? You try.
But are you really doing anything?
“Trying” for me usually means I’m trying to muster the willpower to do it. “Do.” Thats a word I’d like to fully embody this year. “I don’t know, but I’m going to do __ about it.” I feel very alone in my situation. Not even because I’m in Milwaukee but because I don’t have someone feeding me the answers on what to do next. I can’t ask someone what I should do next. And I can’t wait on Morgan to try to figure out what to do next. I spend so much time in my head. So much time in my head. I can’t get out of my head even when I pray. I confuse myself between the voices, convincing myself that the 2 second turn around answer I just heard was God speaking to me. I’m ready to get out of my head and into my body.
My body cracks and pops a lot. I’ve felt stiff from stagnancy in recent times. My brain is active but if the body isn’t responding to those thoughts and ideas.. If they only make it out and onto a note space then how will you ever see them come into fruition. I have “genius moments” where like a lightbulb turning on, boom, there it is.. Thats the idea I’ve been waiting on.. it’s going to change everything. Theres a rush of dopamine followed by a series of visions of a distant future and then.. what? For me mostly nothing. Depends on how obtainable I feel it is and how my insecurities are set up at that time. All my life I’ve hated the ideas of boxes, labels and limitations but I’ve put them on myself. I’ve let the world and my understanding of it limit my own abilities. I seldom dream of becoming famous because when you’re famous you’re famous for something, not everything. You get put in a box, a praised box, but still a box. I don’t seek praises. I seek to have impact. I struggle with how to make it happen. But thats just because I’ve been thinking of it backwards —you don’t try to make an impact.. you be yourself and follow your calling and who its meant for is who its meant for.
Success is so subjective. My only true dream has no clear image but a state of being rather. I want to be at complete peace and understanding of what I was brought here to do, surrounded by love that I created (kids) and able to provide comfort and stability for myself and my family. The specifics I just can’t worry about. I just want the Joy, Peace and Comfort of the Lord. I’m seeking (almost typed trying) that right now. Adulthood is scary. What happens today can affect the 10 years of tomorrow— the reflections of my past this week have shown me that. What I do matters but what I don’t matters even more. If I don’t take action to reflect the changes I seek in my life then I’ll just be sitting here writing about it forever.
I just counted and on my Day One (journaling app) I have 50 different journals. All born from a “lightbulb” moment. Of 50, maybe 5 or 6 were really written in and they’re all labeled for huge chunks of time like “Q1 2020”, “My thoughts” or “My New Life”. Other journals with specific ideas have gone untouched after 1-2 entries or none at all. For example, “Van Life”. After my trip up North to shoot the stars gave me the grand Idea to convert and live in a Van after graduation. My “Music Ideas” journal is empty and so it “Rebranding. I love music and come up with beats and songs often but y’all don’t know that because I’ve put little to no effort into making something of my deepest desires. I have a vision for an app that I know would be helpful and make an impact. Building an app takes time, research and more importantly, getting out of my comfort zone. It’s intimidating, the idea of stepping into a territory I never felt was built for me (tech). But I have to keep in my heart why I do things. Not just for my own betterment or empowerment. Money has never been a motivator for me. I see it has an invaluable-value-less resource that as long as I have what I need when I need it, whether or not I have the money itself is less important. Chasing riches? Not my thing, but stability and simple luxuries are fine by me. But the money has been in the wrong hands for too long. People like me need to have money because all we’d do is figure out how to give it back. Money corrupts they say but my heart already has an owner.
I take so many actions to just make the plan but the plan doesn’t actually become a plan its just a stream of ideas and conversations with people I want to get approval from. Fuck that. Im sick of that. I keep forgetting who I am. What I’m capable of and the shit needs to stop. In this moment there is no dopamine rush. No feeling of “I’ve got it!”. Its time for me to just do. I’ve spent countless hours trying.
Time for change.
Day 36: Clearing my head
I wanted to have this 10 day long “mini-series” where I talked about all the heartbreak I’ve endured. I thought it would be good for me. The hurt that was fueling it was starting to atrophy. I haven’t been able to tap into the men of my past in my heart. When I write, I write freely. Theres an idea and but no real pre-planning. I sit in front of my laptop and let it flow. I wanted to spend 10 days releasing about the men of my past, and I haven’t been able to push past my first love. This process has revealed to me how the nature of my relationship with my first official boyfriend (directly after my first love) was something that fundamentally changed me.. and I didn’t know it. It’s hard to go back there— especially with a fine comb and a magnifying glass. But I developed my blindspots back then. I harnessed my weaknesses against myself back then. At first the hurt wanted 10 days to call these niggas on the carpet. But I must’ve forgotten who I was in that moment. One, I am someone who absolutely cannot maintain a fire. It takes a lot for me to get mad. Negative feelings of any kind are uncomfortable in my body and I try to get them out as fast as possible. I don’t know how I thought I was going to host a slow-burn for 10 straight days. Thats way too much energy for me in a short amount of time. And the truth of it all has to be process in bite size pieces for me. Once the I detail through my memories and the truth is exposed, that truth reveals my blindspots (my brain translates them to errors). Through it all while there was so much I thought would come out about my mistreatment, Its hard to isolate my part in it all and give it any kind of justification. I’m learning not to be so hard on myself. I’ve always been hard on myself. Setting expectations and pre-damning myself If I don’t follow through but then not being fully supportive to see it through. This very collection of Journals is the first time I have been consistent with something with solely the intent to purely benefit myself. That and when I decided to slim down for myself. With that I stuck to it while I was conveniently locked up during quarantine and there was nothing else to do. I release I like to feel good. I think we all do really. I reward myself with my simple pleasures but this year I want to reward myself with consistency. My auntie said that to me as we were crossing into the New Year and it was what I needed to hear. “The gift of consistency”. I have only been consistent in my blind pursuits of love. Those things must be addressed. But the areas around them are so very layered, but they need to be explored. A look through my journals from 2013-2015 and from front to cover all about love and a boy. I think I may transcribe them here if I can stomach it. It’s just so hard to believe that I was that girl. The one who surrounded herself with guy friends and loved boys unconditionally passed the point of a broken heart until it was shattered. The girl who sees red flags and bypasses them. This might be the first year ever where that doesn’t happen. Within the caliber of men I’ve concerned myself with, I’ve seen and felt enough. It’s always their own emotional damage that renders the torment in the relationship. But emotions are so fleeting. They are damaged and I am forgiving. They are damaged and I think I can fix them (subconsciously). Or, they are damaged and I call myself too good a woman for someone to hurt me intentionally—silly rabbit. It’s such a hard thing to do and look at, because I really only wanted love, nothing more. But now love is multi-faceted. Now love has a new depth, a new color, a new smell. Self-love is an acquired taste. It’s so easy to give to someone else. Love wells up in me and has to be poured out. Its hard to explain in a way that I think will translate but sometimes I get this urge where I have to tell someone I love them. If I sit with it too long then that unspread love turns to sadness and loneliness. I need a therapist but this journal is what I can afford right now. This is my echo chamber, but I’m letting the truth reverberate off the walls. The truth is hard. The truth will set you free. But healing is a consistent journey. It’s an energy sucking journey but it renders life back into you. So no matter what comes out of me when I write I’m just clinging to the love I have myself and just holding my hand through this shit. Trying to not let go and run when I get scared or stuck when I get tired. I need to push this shit through my system but force will not work in my favor. I think I fell into my trap again where I found an eye catching topic to write about but as soon as it began to feel unnatural I had to stop. I may write about S.A.R. tomorrow. I might not. We’ll see how I feel when I wake up in the morning.