Finding My Voice: Speaking The Truth

Yesterday, I did a good and wonderful thing. While I wanted to write about it on the day it happened, I instead decided to sit with the experience to allow it to process.

Yesterday, I went to Wegmans with the intent of buying a few ingredients in order to make grilled Galbi steak. It was a particularly…exhausting day. I had a Health Assessment exam and then went to a class I greatly dislike because it makes me hyperaware that I am an African American woman with Caribbean roots and it is highly ostracizing to experience this amongst white women who are constantly complaining about their rights and their children because for some reason it’s never enough. For some reason, they feel the need to be in everything. And yet, nothing that pertains to the African American community or minorities. Often comments are met with silence or changing of topic. Because in truth, when it comes to health care and healthcare policies, there isn’t much support or resources in place.

On this day, I gave up on white people. Again. This time I assured myself it was for good. Because in my heart, I don’t think anything good and uplifting can truly come out of “whiteness” when you’re labeled as “black”. In truth, the entire creation of the term blackness to identify a group of people is by definition an opposite/opposition to whiteness. I know, that in a society that tries to make me feel as though I have no history, that my history extends beyond and exists beyond slavery. I have roots. I have origins. I have a home and a connection to something greater than myself that can not be erased.

But on this day, I was particularly exhausted. As I walked through Wegmans, I felt the drain of sitting in a class of all white females and one middle aged white female professor discussing health policy and feeling like I need not be there. By the time I got to the register, I couldn’t even muster a heartfelt smile to greet the cashier. But I tried. She asked how my day was going.

In that moment, I wasn’t even thinking about telling the truth. I wanted to tell her that my day was going fine. I wanted to tell her that I’m feeling great and peachy and ask her how she was doing in return. But I couldn’t. I told her the truth of my feelings. The cliffnotes version though.

I call this truth telling a great and wonderful thing because for the longest time, I could not even write the truth. Let alone speak it. So to be able to open my mouth and say, even if it was just a few words, how I actually felt. To have what I say, do, think, and feel align, felt wonderful. It felt congruent. Because it was.


The Solution

It’s been a real struggle for me learning how to take responsibility for my own actions while not taking on responsibility for the behavior of adults because they are family. Not understanding the importance of allowing people to take ownership for their stuff the way I take ownership of my own stressed me out. I’ve wanted to feel appreciated and respected by my family and I haven’t felt that way. I often feel unheard, bullied, belittled, disrespected, and like my boundaries don’t matter. It made me feel angry and I just didn’t know how to deal with it. There are systems already in place that have no room for me as the adult I am now.

The solution is learning to be more self-sufficient. Having my own place and managing my own affairs. I need to figure out how to do this. Having that ownership without looking to them for validation will help me better create boundaries. I’ve come to understand that this is an important part of me not seeking their approval and validation because they can not give me what I need. And what I need is a respectful, loving, and supportive system that values honesty, transparency, and a willingness to “speak to the mountain” (respectfully) if an issue arises. I need to be in a place that nourishes my soul.

Eating When Hungry: Why I Binge

Today I learned that one of the reasons i binge on junk food in order to cope with my own emotional discomforts. Something(s) in my life have been or felt out of my control. There’s been things in my that I truly wanted and while I did everything to try an get them, I didn’t get them. As a result, I Binge on junk food to cope with the sadness, pain, and discontent of those unfulfilled spaces in my soul. I feel like my boyfriend is ignoring me, I go out and buy junk food. I’m sitting watching television and boredom overtakes me, I grab a burger. I’m sad, I go to Wendy’s and get nuggets. Stress? Junk food. Lonely? Junk food. Empty, heavy calories to fill me up when I feel hollow inside.

Today, I chose to eat only when hungry. Today, I chose to listen to my body and eat when it told me it wanted to eat. I was surprised because today, instead of having my first meal at 8 or 9am, I had my first meal at 2pm. I tried a square of my boyfriend’s maverick &pizza, a chicken caesar salad, with 1.5 chocolate chip muffies and a caramel iced latte with skim milk from Panera and a piece of bread. How did I feel afterwards ? Content. Satisfied. For dinner I shared a chicken caesar salad and a piece of bread with my boyfriend and drank a cup of water. I felt satisfied then too.

It was quite an eye opener when I realized that I’ve been attempting to bury my emotional discomfort and trauma with food. It never occurred to me that instead of trying to eat away the pain, sitting with it and allowing myself to listen to the messages my body was sending me would be a better alternative. It had never occurred to me that I used food in that way until now.

I wonder what other messages my body has for me…

Observing The “Monkey Mind”

I’ve been gone for a while. I know. But I never stopped writing. I’ve just been finding my core and purpose in my life again. The last few years has felt like one very long “phase” where I’ve had to find balance and surrender. As someone who learned long ago about the power of manifestation (without really knowing the words), letting go hasn’t been easy for me and for a long time I lost my way, constantly fighting with myself.

I use to think that I had to constantly act on life in order to make things how I want them to be. There were so many ideas that I carried that kept me in situations that I don’t necessarily want or even really need to be in. Through meditation, I’ve observed so much about myself, many of which I’ve kept a journal on, but that I will not transcribe here. But one thing I did observe was my desire to constantly want to exert my own power on life instead of allowing the Divine to work through me.

I’ve been observing the way in which my ego mind continues to attempt to maintain control by sending images that create fear in me. It morphs. It attempts to distract me, to show me the ways in which I need it. Yesterday, it sent me images that exerted the need for testing and bill paying saying what am I going to do if it didn’t remind me? How would I remain out of debt and continue my benefits if it didn’t exert its pressure? It tried to justify the need to constantly be in a state of action and doing. I was tempted to react, especially as my heart began to race with all the images it sent me. But I chose to sit and observe.

Nice Girl, Can You Speak Up and Acknowledge Who You Are?

I recently wrote about the uncertainty I felt in regards to whether I’d actually learned my lessons in regards to a previous relationship. Well today, I got my answer.

Today, while speaking with my aunt, I told her about how in the past I would often go out of my way to try and make others feel comfortable. I did this often to my own discomfort. They’d insult me, say racist ignorant things to me, isolate me, and I’d let them. I remember distinct moments in college where I’d have people power walk away from me only to have them become super friendly around an all white circle. One of them, while in conversation, later remarked, “I wasn’t comfortable talking to black people then.” I remember many of those experiences and the pain I felt. I was open and welcoming. Unfortunately, they were not.

At the time, I was under a very strong delusion and would often try to ignore my inner knowing so that I could continue to maintain the comfort of my discomfort. I told my aunt about the many efforts I’d go to (making my voice higher pitched, lowering my head, laughing at everything, seeming more playful, immature,  and more emotional) in order to try and make my asian friends feel more comfortable around me. In truth, it worked. But I wasn’t being myself and many of them were still ignorant and carried racist ideas about Blacks. I remember the lengths I’d go to in order to try and speak with White females, how many of them would ignore me, walk away from me, give each other a quick glance and then proceed to talk around me, or just ignore me. They’d often only talk to me when they felt I could do something for them or when others who looked like them welcomed me. They knew what they were. I told my aunt that I let all of that go because I realized that I’d rather not try to force anyone to try and like me. Why should I make myself uncomfortable in order to make others feel comfortable? Why was I trying to forget myself while these people continued to affirm their ignorant ideas and attitudes often unabashed and with pride? I look back and shake my head sometimes at the girl I use to be. These people did not deserve my friendship, nor did they want it. I told my aunt, “Never again”. And I found that mixed within that chapter of my life known as Nice Girl, Can You Please Speak Up and Acknowledge Who You Are? was my ex, his family, and his friends. And I realized that the answer was the same. “Never again”.

I’m not worried about regressing anymore to my own egoic ambitions. Why? Because I spoke up and know what I am. And that’s all that matters.



Processing Truths: What Would I Do?

I’m currently processing everything. Grad school, NICU, a way out from under a difficult preceptor’s wing. I got all the things I really wanted. Coincidentally, it came after I committed to living truthfully. Not just trusting myself, but allowing the truth to permeate other areas of my life. It’s progress.

After committing to live my life truthfully/sincerely, I’ve been faced with other aspects of myself that I did not want to acknowledge in the past. It’s hard to admit truths about ourselves when they’re painful or seem to go against everything we claim to stand for. I recently came to the realization that I had invested a lot of time in the relationship with one of exes because he was Asian, and not because he enriched my life in any way. This was hard for me to admit to myself, let alone to others. There was a part of me that wanted to prove that a mix like ours could exist. I wanted to transcend racial divides. I also wanted a relationship like one of the women I so admired growing up. And so I tried to make him my “twin” or “the one”. Not because he really was, but because of the image and plans I had for the relationship and the time I had invested into making the relationship work. I’ve had to let that all go but I’m still processing and here’s why: I often wonder if, knowing what I do now, about the racism and disapproval I experienced from his friends and family, the hostile and unwelcoming environment they made for me, about his own insecurities, cheating tendencies, the lack of support from him, and the overall feeling of stress and exhaustion I felt from being in a relationship with him, would I do it all over again?

I want my resounding answer to be loud and bold “No” or simply to say, “I can’t” much as I do when I think of all the others who have come and gone in my life. But my actual answer is “I don’t know”. And it makes me ask myself, “Have I learned nothing?” If he, for some reason, chose to contact me to chat over coffee, or meet for dinner to ask for another chance, would I, despite my natural aversion to him and inner self calling for me to leave him behind, ignore all my natural urges, dreams, and instincts and take him back? Would my ego again take over and I regress by forsaking my own inner knowing to give this sorry, confused sap a third chance at draining my energy? And for what? A chance at being a living breathing example that true love can and does transcend all barriers(despite it not actually being true love)? Or will I listen to my heart and inner knowing and opt to live truthfully, confessing my true reasons for my previous die-hard efforts, going with what feels most natural and honest (because I understand that struggle is not always necessary for growth) and forsaking that egoic desire to be a political example of what’s right and possible.

What would I do? That’s a question I cannot answer.

Questions,Mysteries,Musings: Fear

I asked in an earlier blog if it was necessary to know everything. Is knowing everything and “figuring out” everything a necessary part of evolution?

A few weeks ago I was intent on having another OBE and it dawned on me that I was intent on this because I believed on some level that this was a necessary part of evolution. “How can I experience ‘miracles’ if I had not yet mastered ‘magic’? ” As I laid supine, eyes closed, my mind wandering as thoughts and images raced and floated past my mind’s eye, I tensed, experienced fatigued, mental exhaustion that often required me to sleep after each unsuccessful attempt at OBEs. In the days and weeks since this belief arose to my conscious self, work resumed, life continued on. And a new thought arose. “How can I experience anything at all if I have not yet mastered fear?”

“If you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to the mountain ‘move here, to there’ and it will move…”-Matthew 17:20

I’ve been afraid of having an OBE despite my many attempts to do so. I’ve been afraid of what I’d see and as a result my body tenses up making me unable to truly leave my body for long. I’ve had one moment of remote viewing since my last OBE attempt but I did not leave my body, only viewed (through my mind’s eye) other, beautiful dimensions. And I know now that we exist in many dimensions. I realize that there are many other worlds and that I exist, simultaneously, there too.

But what does that mean? It means that in another dimension, in an alternate universe, I chose to be a counselor. It means that I’m a mother, a wife, a spiritual nomad/priestess/prophetess/shaman, in some other dimension and these are all playing out simultaneously while I am here playing the role of RN. It means, that if I choose (and with the right conditions), I can manifest all these things in this dimension because they already exist in another dimension. I’m learning on many spheres, not just one. And I’m connected to all of this (because there is no separation, only the illusion of separation).

But there was the fear.  I was sitting in my NICU class thinking about this (on my down time of course) and I realized how little of said fear was truly necessary. I’ve been encouraging my cousin to embrace all of herself (her gifts included) and here I am resisting what seems to happen naturally for me when my mind clears and I allow whatever happens, to happen.