This is an excerpt of my journaling process to living my truth. Although not specifically natural hair related, this realization led me on a path of rediscovering my true identity.... Please read my journey below.
As all young girls do, I dreamed of having a colonial house with a white picket fence, two kids a boy and a girl. A beautiful bad to the bone, coca cola bottled shaped, educated woman that would make so much money there wouldn’t be a bank large enough to hold it. As for my man, well you already know he would be so fine that people would stop and stare when he passed. Vacationing in the Hamptons, cars, clothes, so full of life and love and there would be absolutely nothing in this world that would stop us. When his eyes locked on mine baby the fireworks would go off in my head a love song would play and that would be all she wrote- that was my white picket fence.
It started with one bedroom with a pass through that may have been a bedroom, but didn’t even have a door and not a fence in sight. One boy walking and another in tow couldn’t make a girl if I tried. My coca cola shape was more like a can, minimum wage job and no college degree. He was fine though and they stop and stared when he walked, guess the problem was he stared back. It went something like paycheck to paycheck, fussing and arguing, living and laughing, but struggling and secretly hating one another because this did not look like the same white picket fence.
Our lives became full of work and priorities shifted from being together to getting out of this hole. Children activities, college, working full-time, church 24/7 became my whole world. Working over 100 hours a week, money and attempting to become a man and provide for his family became his whole world and there it was…. we drifted.
He’d come home to 4 off the chain half raised boys, a lonely and pissed off wife, we were both overwhelmed, but we were just trying to make a better life for them and that meant sacrifice and that’s just what we did. Regardless of how we tried to move forward, there was one set back and then another and we were further and further away from that fence.
Life and circumstances, love and hurt, betrayal and loyalty went on for years and we were just living. I heard things like anoint your door faces with oil, clothes and pray like nobody’s business, travail in the spirit, speak it into existence, speak life into your man, cook, clean up, iron his clothes, be submissive and it still ended.
What happened? What could have possibly gone wrong? I asked myself that every day for the 19 months that we lived under one roof as roommates. I’d been so afraid to show that my fence wasn’t white and my home wasn’t happy that I even convinced myself that it was good. Granny always said regardless of what you have, wash it and iron it good, wash your face and hold your head up high. The most valuable and most deadly piece of advice I ever received. We were both good at putting on the mask, but secretly I was afraid to have anyone over because my shameful truth would be exposed. As I look back at this I can’t do anything but smile because I really thought I didn’t like to entertain at my home until this very moment.
Although, I’ve been preparing for this new life long before this moment, there are still new challenges for me daily. For a person like me who likes to be prepared and always aware of what comes next, I find that I need to learn to live in the moment more, which is uncomfortable but I’m trying.
In wake of sharing my truth, the overwhelming feeling of hurting souls surrounding you is unbelievably consuming, it forced me to take a step back and reflect. Last night my weight was so heavy that I couldn’t figure out how to move forward. This morning, I woke with a sense of peace and I immediately realized what was missing…. my cup needed to be filled. I won’t get all preachy, but there are times where you give so much of yourself that you forget that YOU need to recharge. (Especially for people pleasers). Recharging your cup for some means quiet time and relaxation, and for others hanging out in the streets, some cry and some just engage in meaningless activity to help release the pressure of it all. As for me, I reconnect with my faith and fill my cup with encouraging stories, songs, sermons, quotes and scriptures and for today that’s what I’ll do.
Although my white picket fence looked quite different from the way I imagined, it’s never too late to start over and create a new dream. If you are reading this and looking to identify, I would like to encourage you to take inventory of your cup- is it time for a refill. If so, refill baby… healing takes work and we got work to do!