A Daily Dose of Freedom

"You can't "prop up" a person that refuses to stand ."-me Recently, I asked one of my " homeboys " to read a few of my blog posts and help " plug the gap " where my feet often stumbled. He didn't read one, but he read all of them! After a gut-wrenching, " throat punch of truth ," he unleashed the dragon. I was knee-deep in the swamp of hot ashes. Needless to say, I had allowed fear to become my glass ceiling ! Each time, I took off running for the hills , I looked back to the valley for "familiar hands." The " child within " had learned to go without the things needed most; so as an adult, I counseled my fears. I nursed my vulnerabilities. I coached my failures. However, my hands kept reaching for the " mentor within " that the younger version of me survived without. Let's face it! Kids learn what they live, even inherited dysfunction. Grown-up habits can resurf...

" Don't let doubt make you a slave to fear " My friends keep trying to talk me off the ledge... B-U-T ... Some days, I am afraid to jump! Some days, I give a slight pivot but retreat ! Some days, pitiful outweighs powerful. However today, I am " crip walking " blindly on faith. I am out here in " these streets " without: life support , a respirato r , mechanical ventilator , or back up plan . Don't bother asking for further clarification, cause I can't explain what I don't understand. ( inserts nervous laugh ). All I know ( for certain ) is my 2020 vision got downsized by the " survival of settling" and I had been sulking in bondage every since. This morning, I intentionally crawled out of my " woman cave of darkness " and declared that I'm not " finna " waste one more tear on anything left behind. I refused to yell to the masses that refused to acknowledge my wo...

Sometimes the " pain of remembering " is just way too overwhelming...   I opted out of the traditional Father's Day this year. I did not make my annual graveside visit. I did not make a social media post honoring my dad. I did not celebrate the legacy seeds that he deposited on the inside of me. I did not share the memories. Sunday, June 21st popped up ( on me ) like spam with a virus attached--my dad was not physically present! So, I could either cram my face with carbs, cry my eyeballs out, or retreat to the confines of my bed. Somehow, I  mustered up enough strength to step out of the pain and into a garment of praise. I met my responsibility with accountability,  because I had " eyes on me ." My grandson was starting to show signs of distress, due to the overwhelming nature of surrounding events and I could not allow my grief to take root in his heart. I knew dad would want me to take care of him... to be bold , coura...

" Grief is love unfinished ." -author unknown Yesterday, I intentionally chose to ignore the cardboard trail of boxes that disrupted my path of productivity. I snoozed on the to-do-list! I really didn't care to entertain the emotions of " unpacking ;" because then, " moving " would become an immediate reality. Somehow, I just knew that God was about to flip my world upside down, but I watered the " adrenaline rush " down with a cocktail of hesitation and insisted on a splash of doubt. What if things went left? What if my ambition was " overstepping " God's plans? What if my expectations exceeded what was available ( for me )? As my eyes scanned the piles of excess, tension erupted into an aggressive, fire blazing migraine. I felt flushed and consumed by the ashes of despair. However, my agitation was interrupted by a quote from Alphonse Karr, " The more things change, the more they remain the same. ...

In due season , you shall reap a harvest ... Over the past weekend, my family and friends cleared their hectic schedules and helped empty my cluttered apartment. According to the 2020 vision , my time had expired in that temporary space, but closing doors ALWAYS created a veil of doubt, anxiety, and FEAR. My lack of formal planning had unintentionally created all sorts of challenges for my help and the future uncertainty of those cardboard boxes flooded my heart with waves of uneasiness. I had buried my head in the sand of chaos for months and " my indecision " had become a landfill of never-ending complaints that sheltered my inconspicuous agitation and heaviness. Sadly enough, I had perfected " good-bye's " a long time ago. ( Leaving was familiar) . It was like breathing--necessary for survival and required little effort on my part. In fact, I was ALWAYS the first to Q-U-I-T , because staying required the courage to ENDURE unwelcomed rejection! ...

Seems like the " outside world " had finally caught up to the unfiltered chaos that had been churning in my belly for months. In the midst of all the madness, COVID-19 came like a " thief in the night " and interrupted my trajectory. My optimism faded into the backdrop of forest fires caused by consuming racial tensions. My faith wavered on the mountains of constant criticism of the "judge & jury" trying my every move. My hope became overshadowed in the valley of contagious helplessness. Social injustices claimed my attention: on the news, in the workplace, and even in my own backyard. The roses wilted. The gardenias lost their fragrance. The lilies surrendered their petals. Everything that I had prayed for last season became an eyesore in this season. I missed the " calm in the storm " days of: watching my grandson, stand up on the couch and play in my grandmother's silky, black tresses. having morning coffee...