My mother worked gruesome hours as a cosmetologist while raising two children, doing her damndest to have a dating life, and battling arthritis/lupus. The photos I attached to this article hold a special place in my heart, because at 27, only 5 years shy of the age my mother was when she transcended, I finally see an image of me that reflects her. It shows me in my mother's likeness, and my expression reeks of her joy. It's typically a non-negotiable that I'm a spitting image of my father. However, this photo serves as proof of what I had yet to realize: as I am constantly shape shifting, my face is forming into my mothers.
Viewing entries in
Today my student's mother died. My biggest concern was making sure he was able to grieve like a child. Because Black boys don't often get that. Considering his experience inspired me to write a long overdue poem for Black boys.
When I sit for a second... when I allow myself to actually feel all that I am feeling, it hurts. So, I reroute the pain, and I cry watching Grey's Anatomy. And I cry on my grandmother's lap til' I unknowingly fall asleep. I cry listening to music that reminds me I'm still feeling. I unfollow friends as means of maintaining mental sanity. I lean into my husband, who caused some of that hurt, and I fall apart. And it's still okay, because it's all temporary if only I make the time to tend to it.
Watching Bishop TD Jakes preach this morning reminded me that we often look for confirmation from other people to affirm our greatness. We forget our ability to proclaim life over ourselves. Today, I'm doing away with that thought pattern and affirming that I am enough. In the fullness of me and in all my faults, I am enough.
As someone born with a nurturing spirit, I've wanted to be a mom since as far back as I can remember. I also wanted to be married. Chris and I were nowhere near ready for the load we took on in committing to both of those visions, and my first trimester was hellish proof.