Journaling

To Help Me Forget For A Little While…

I had a whole article written before I decided to scrap it and be completely transparent. In that one, I was talking about how I, the great mental health blogger that I am (I’m kidding), keeps calm during a time like this. I had bullet points on the basic things that people do like cook or take intermittent naps. I was going to make it seem like I was automatically processing everything correctly and in a healthy manner. I was going to make it seem like I had all the answers. As much as I would love to be the knower-of-all…I’m not…I’m human just like all of you. I ponder things religiously, and sometimes even after I’ve given every brain cell I have to try and connect how things operate, I still don’t understand. On top of quarantine and living through a pandemic, there have been some looming thoughts in my head. My Grandmother passed away about a month ago, and every time I think of her I begin to cry…I’m tearing up a little now that I mention it. My summer class just ended, my internship, something that I’m very grateful for, is relatively demanding, and I’m trying to write more content on this blog. Then, if that isn’t enough, take a look at the news! If you’re black or a person of color, hearing and seeing the stories of your people being slaughtered in the streets can psychologically distress the strongest person. At one point, Twitter was in a frenzy; exposing countless rapists and abusers around the country. Thoughts of my own attack flooded back to the corners of my brain like a dam. I relived that anger, that hopelessness, and that sense of sudden numbness. I remembered the people who told me it was my fault. Hearing someone say that an act you’ve never asked for is your identity strikes you like a freshly sharpened dagger…I don’t know how else to explain it. I’ve had crying spells where it felt like they would never stop; where my eyes would swell like a bee sting and wither like a drought. It was a lot, and I had to take a break from it all. 

I’m guilty when it comes to using my productivity as a means of feeling valuable. I also try to ignore any mental pain or fatigue that I feel because I think being perceived as strong is better than being stable. Today, I laid in bed, typed this, and watched Netflix, and I actually felt good about it. Usually, I would engage in some tender-loving self care for about thirty minutes, and then go right back to doing some type of assignment. If I tried to practice self care, I would immediately counteract it. I would surround myself with the countless messages swirling through the media that my life was not welcome and I have no place anywhere. As much as I am proud of people of all shades, cultures, religions, sexual orientations, genders, and so on coming together…it’s draining that we as a collective are still doing this. Black people and people of color deserve to be respected. Marginalized groups deserve to be loved. We deserve to live a long and healthy life. We don’t deserve this bloodshed. We don’t deserve to live in fear. I’m exhausted. I’ve had a headache for the last two days, and you can tell I’m stressed by the slew of pimples that have accumulated on my cheeks. My brain felt like it was swelling; I felt nothingness one minute and then every emotion known to man the next. I was going insane…staring at the wall and letting my thoughts run rampant insane. Enough was enough, I had to do something in order to regain and maintain some type of sanity. So…this is what I did. 

I started a new day and set my intentions. As crazy as the previous day might have been, this is a new one, and there is always a chance that this day will be better. First, I always give thanks to God and the universe that I am able to see this day. There are so many loved ones who didn’t, and I am grateful that my journey is to be continued. I am a firm believer in manifestation and prayer, and I honestly think that these two things have really saved me in terms of my mental health. The pen is mightier than a sword, but combining the power with a strong voice… you’re unstoppable. I am slacking on writing down my manifestations, so I need to get back into the swing of things. Sometimes just waking up and stating how you want your day to go will make you feel that much better. To piggyback off of giving thanks for waking up in the morning, I pray for the things that I would love to take place in my life, like me and my family being protected against evil forces sent to kill, steal, and destroy and achieving every goal that has been set. Then, I thank God for everything that has happened; that it happened, that I learned from it, and that I made it through. If I write down my prayers and manifestations, I always read them out loud. Never say negative thoughts aloud, or at least try not to. It’s normal for negative thoughts to come about, but don’t speak them or write them down. When you speak or write out negative thoughts, it is almost like you are decreeing them into existence.

I took deep breaths and tried to meditate…it is harder than it looks. As people, we are quite shallow breathers. As we mature into adulthood, we change the way we breathe. As infants and children, we all breathe deeper. We took big, extensive, belly moving breaths, and now we more so breathe with our chest. Try it; take a breath in through your nose for ten seconds, and then breathe out for ten out seconds through your mouth. I don’t know about you, but I feel a lot lighter. Your heart rate increases a little when you take a breath in, and slows down once you breathe out. When it comes to meditating, I have always had difficulty. I’ll roll my yoga mat out, get down, hit my criss-cross applesauce position, close my eyes, clench my thumb and pointer fingers together, and try to focus on one thought peacefully. I last probably for a good thirty seconds…I wish I was kidding. One thing I feel I need to work on is focusing on my breathing; remaining still and reminding myself that whatever I have to do will get done once my meditation session is over. Maybe one day I’ll be able to get past the minute mark. According to the Massachusetts General Hospital, breathing, mindfulness, and meditation changes brain regions that are associated with memory, empathy, stress, and sense of self like the brain’s gray matter. When I feel the weight of the world on my shoulders, sometimes the simplest thing to do is to take a deep breath.

I drink water and eat fruits and vegetables. Water is my favorite beverage. It is the elixir of life. The fact that there are people around the world who don’t have access to water while there are people who freaking swim in it for a living is ridiculous to me. For those who have the privilege of having clean drinking water…don’t take it for granted and donate to give others the opportunity to have the same access. The National Academies of Sciences, Engineering, and Medicine states that an adequate amount of water intake per day is between 11.5 cups and 15.5 cups. I have a gallon jug that I keep beside my bed. I try to drink half of it every day, and I’ve been keeping up with it. Water lubricates your joints and muscles. It helps cushion the brain and spinal cord…those are pretty important parts of your body. It helps eliminate waste, helps you stay energized, promotes healthier skin…the list goes on and on. Adding more fruits and vegetables to your diet can lower blood pressure, reduce the risk of heart disease, prevent some cancers, give you a beneficial dose of vitamins and minerals, and so many more factors. I know when given the opportunity to chow down on a donut versus a stalk of celery, it can be hard to choose the healthier option. It’s okay to indulge in some Krispy Kreme from time to time, but believe me, you will feel much better after gnawing on an apple. I’ve been eating a lot of peaches lately, as well as tomatoes, cucumbers, and baby carrots. When I’m craving a bowl of chips, I try to replace that with a mix of all three vegetables.

I pay a visit to my seven year old self. The reason I go back to my seven year old self is because that was the age when I started feeling insecure. Seven year old me was when I started to kind of lose the confidence I had. It took a few years to gain it back, and I know that little me would be beaming with joy. She would be proud of the things that I’ve accomplished. At the age of seven, I would give anything for my hair to be straight. All the other girls seemed to have their hair that way, and I wanted to be like them. My hair was straightened every four weeks until I was about eighteen years old. I was chubby, with a name no one pronounced right, glasses, and a gap in between my buck two front teeth. My two year anniversary of my big chop was last week, and I am currently rocking a growing fro. I would have never thought that I would be comfortable with my curls and coils. When I was younger, I wanted to be skinny and at least be the same height as my Dad, who stands at 5’9. I am six inches below that, and I’m about a size ten…well, during quarantine, I really have no idea what the hell I am. As shocked as she would be, she would be proud that I am happy with who I am. If I was able to speak with her, well, I wouldn’t speak at first. I would embrace her; the road that is ahead is treacherous, but beautiful at the same time. She learns so much about who she is, the flaws that she has and the things that she needs to exemplify and praise. She wouldn’t cry once being held because she thought tears were a sign of weakness, but I would, because I know it showcases quite a bit of strength to do so. I would tell her that I love her, despite that person telling her that no one didn’t. I would tell her to love herself more…and then more than that, and then more than that. I’d ask her how she’s feeling right now and maybe give her some advice on how to resolve it. I would tell her that being quirky and weird is what makes her special, and that she is not alone in the unique way that she thinks. What would you tell your younger self?

I fell back in love with things I used to enjoy doing. I’ve taken some of this time to just explore. I began to play the viola again. I played in a conservatory in high school. As I held the instrument in one hand and the bow in the other, I almost felt whole. I played The Swan, the 13th movement of Camille Saint-Saens Carnival of the Animals. It is one of the prettiest pieces of music I think I’ve ever heard. When I listen to it, I envision myself in Paris…he is a French composer you know. As stupid as they may have sounded, I wrote songs and poems. I have a piano right across from my bed, and when I get an idea in my head, I’ll move my chair in front of my keyboard and just let my creative juices pour out onto the keys. For a lot of you creative folk, it may be hard right now to create. It was for me too, and I kind of pressured myself to make something that I deemed as worthy enough. Sometimes you find your best work within a dry spell, and I just created…whether it was good or bad. The act of writing poems or music was more so supposed to be therapeutic, and it was. Whether it made sense or not, I just wrote about what I felt. Art is such a good form of therapy, whether it be singing, dancing, drawing…anything. It made me realize that I want to incorporate more of those talents into my daily routine. If that made me feel better then, I’m hoping it will do so from day to day. 

Fine…I will include intermittent naps in here. Napping is one of my favorite past times. A nap has become an integral part of my daily routine, my only flaw is that a thirty minute nap will turn into a five hour snooze. Sleeping is crucial for your physical health. It rejuvenates you. It heals and repairs your heart and blood vessels. It can help improve concentration and productivity and help your immune system. In my case, sometimes I don’t know what to do, and I stress myself out trying to come up with an answer for whatever I’m going through. Sometimes the only thing I can do is take a nap, rest on it, and save the mental effort for another time. I got out of my house. Just sitting outside on my porch letting the sun hit my face can be the therapy I need. I watch the trees sway back and forth as they waltz with the leaves. The fresh air reinvigorates my senses, and I picture myself in different scenes of nature. I was on a beach in California. I watched the snow fall in the Poconos. I rode bikes down the streets of Toledo…I was there. I go to my happy places, whether they be close by like my Grandma’s room, or somewhere on the other side of the world like the time I made paella in Barcelona. I appreciated the things that nature does for us; offers us sunlight, nourishes our plants and crops, gives us shade and oxygen…I am so grateful for these scenes.

Don’t batter and abuse yourself; pushing your brain to the brink of insanity. No matter what, your mental health is important. When your mental health is in the right place, your body follows suit. We all thank you for your continuous fight in trying to end racism and white supremacy. We all thank you for working hard and making moves in your career. We all thank you for risking your life to help others. We all thank you for being here another day, but sometimes those days can be too much. It’s okay to take a break. It’s okay to feel joy during this time. You need to remember the good things that life can offer, and we want you to be here when these good things finally come about.

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Journaling

Month Number One: A slight rant and 400 years

January is coming close to an end. The first day ushered in this new sense of hope and discovery for all of us. 2018 was a year of realization. It was like a gnat; buzzing around our ears and crowding our personal space. The lessons of 2018 are going to be the foundation of my 2019, and so far I am still going strong. Could it be because of the new year and its new wave of energy, or has nothing really changed? Maybe this new feeling of purpose and confidence is some sort of placebo. Am I still the same person now that I was in 2018? Some of the voices in my head (true Gemini lol) tell me these things off and on, and I try not to succumb. If I really think about it, all of my manifestations for the first month of the year are slowly but surely coming into fruition, and I think that has a lot to do with myself, as well as the beginning of a new year.
I wanted to briefly talk about an article on The Root that I happened to come across while scrolling through the internet one day. The first person of African descent set foot on America’s soil in the year 1619. Ever since then, black people have had a treacherous experience here. We are seen as foreign objects that do not belong; the “other.” Our skin is discriminated against, as well as our hair, body types, and culture…but it’s always copied. Like I stated in a Facebook post a few days ago, we are the culture, we just never get the credit. I just thought that is was kind of interesting. This 400 years of slavery (even though slavery was abolished in 1865) may have brought some sort of curse. We might not be picking cotton in fields and being beaten with whips, but we are still slaves to systematic oppression as well as archaic ideologies of how black people should be. Jim Crow kind of still exists you know? It just manifests itself in various ways throughout the years. The 400 years trope comes from the bible. In Genesis 15:13, it says, “Then the LORD said to him, “Know for certain that for four hundred years your descendants will be strangers in a country not their own and that they will be enslaved and mistreated there (New International Version).” Sounds familiar doesn’t it? If you add 400 to 1619, what do you get? I know I’m not an aficionado in mathematics, but if my calculator is correct, you get 2019!
2019 is the 400th year. Has the curse been lifted? I can say as a minority in America that my experiences here have not been peachy keen. I mean, a bit of my self loathing as a child came from the fact that I did not resemble my Caucasian counterparts. Going to college in a town that is more than 90% white lets me know some days that I am not accepted in some communities. This, however, has only made me stronger as an individual and prouder of my blackness. People are so pressed that I exist, like…keep hating boo. 2018 had made me come face to face with myself. People will not always like me just by looking at me, and I can’t let that affect me. We as people can work together as a collective to strengthen our community, but we must first acknowledge the beauty and power in ourselves individually…and there’s an abundance of it. Do you know how important you are? How much you’ve endured? How much your ancestors have gone through? Your looks are envied by others. Your history is rich and full. Black people…that is all in you! It’s in me! And 2018 has made me aware that I am a blessing and I should think of myself as such. That might sound a little vain, but you are a blessing. You could be six feet deep in the ground. Every day that you live is a blessing.
I have a tendency to get rather preachy with these posts when I’m passionate. My main focus for this post is to say that we must break the curse that we held in ourselves, and that’s with changing our habits and thoughts. I need to plan out my thoughts; my mind goes a mile a minute. This month I have made an effort to better myself, and I will continue to do the same in February. I prayed and manifested for more experience in the career that I want to be in, and I was promoted to a higher position. I’ve had people from my past come and contact me, trying to slither their way back into my life…and I ignored their advances. My worth is much more important than a brief stint of attention. I’ve accepted the fact that I cannot change what has happened in the past, and can only move forward. I’ve accepted my face and the way it kind of hangs to the right. I’ve accepted my little round nose and full cheeks, as well my gap teeth (which I’m proud of). I’ve practiced self-care by keeping to myself when I need to. It’s okay to say no to hanging out. It’s good to spend time with myself and get to know myself even more. She loves overly feminine stuff. She likes perfume and getting her nails done and fashion. She loves to read and write and engage in her own little world. She’s introverted…but nowhere near antisocial. She is delicate, but durable.
I have taken steps toward keeping my peace. I’ve moved mountains this past month. I’ve spoken my truth and expressed my feelings thoroughly. I’ve come to terms with past mistakes that I have made, as well as acknowledge what I did to get into that situation in the first place. The groundwork has been laid, and I need to follow what I’ve laid. I’ve learned not to be as trusting as I have been in the past, and not tolerate the things that I have previously. I just feel chains falling and my head lifting. I just have a good feeling about 2019, even though we have had some major mishaps happen already (thank you Trump). I can only control myself, and I am trying my very best to not fall back and remain the way I used to be. I am slowly evolving, and I can see the progress.
In a few hours it will be February, which is the perfect month to talk about self-love. I want to tie self love in the black community, because I know that us as people are conditioned to think that our beauty is lesser than. I am beautiful. I am beautiful because I am black. I am beautiful because of my history, good and bad. I am beautiful because I am continuously growing and changing. I’m beautiful because I am finally realizing my worth. I am just beautiful….PERIOD!

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