When I think about the events of last week, it felt like the straw that broke the camel's back in a 2016 that has been rather shitty, to state it plainly. It's been traumatic in a hell of a lot more ways, especially for people with skin like mine. It's a blessing that people try to twist into a curse, but I'm not with it. I do not allow it.
Things happen to us everyday that force us to make space for cleansing the mind and the spirit from the invisible weapons of malice and hate try to mar us with in the form of very real wounds, not knowing that we were built to endure. I know that twice - not just as a woman, but as a black woman.
I endure. We endure.
And I know that resilience is a beautiful strength, but I hope they know that we do get weary of carrying the weight of it all. Our ancestors didn't want this for us and just because we can endure doesn't mean we should always have to endure. When is enough, enough? I can only have faith that we will keep moving forward in a progressive manner, no matter what obstacles come our way.
This past week, I've been further reminded of the importance of self-care. I cleansed as I wept tears of disappointment, and frustration, and out of empathy. I bathed myself in solitutde, immersed myself in conversations with my mother, fell into her arms so I could feel safety in her embrace. That thing that mothers do. I found comfort in my reflective soundtrack. When I wanted to tap into my power, I had Kenrick on repeat and the BLM anthem "Alright". And when I wanted peace, I played "Spotless Minds" and "The Healer".
They returned my sanity to me in different ways.
I find I heal through the acknowledgement of it all. I process my hurt, my grief, my worries, my pain, and greet them for the visitors they are. They will come and they will go. That is certain, so I give them props so that they don't stay longer than they should.
And lastly, with time, I heal. Time is a healer that is thankfully absolute.