I’m cracking up! And I don’t mean the euphemism that suggests that I am laughing my ass off. The way my God works, I get messages in all kinds of forms and fashions. Usually, God gets my attention by sending the SAME message in multiple ways at the same time. Plainly put, synchronicity gets my attention. That’s probably because I’ve yet to master the art of slowing down often enough to hear God’s subtle messages. Generally, God screams at talks to me by way of “themes” if you will. This time, the theme is CRACKING.
First, one of my molars cracked near an old filling (that I now think I should have gotten replaced much sooner). I have an entire chunk of my tooth missing and it feels like a nerve is exposed. When I eat, drink, or rinse, I get a ZING down my gum line and it’s rather uncomfortable. Thankfully it’s not painful and I have dental insurance. I do wonder how this is going to impact my Invisalign journey (which could be a blog topic all by itself). I’m going to the dentist tomorrow to get it checked out. Then, less than 24 hours later, my cell phone fell and its screen cracked…and then the crack spread. This is problematic because like pretty much everyone else, I have a touchscreen phone. Between the tooth and the phone, I know I have some repairs to tend to ASAP. The cracking of these important parts of my life, though, reminds me of a lesson I got from a good friend of mine. There is a Japanese art form called Kintsugi. A simple Google search will quickly inform you that Kintsugi is “the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery by mending the areas of breakage with lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum”. In the end, the repaired pottery is more valuable than it was before it was cracked. This form of art is a lot like recovery. Societally, I believe we have come to see chipped as broken… and broken as irreparable… and irreparable as worthless. But we all have areas of our lives where we have been chipped. I know there are even areas of my life where I have chipped myself. I have chipped off parts of me because they weren’t as savory, in my mind, as the parts of me that others seemed to appreciate. I chipped off parts of myself that I wasn’t ready to accept because I regarded them as ugly. To be honest, for a very long time, I thought I was broken. And I internalized that to mean, on some level, I was worthless. Recovery has been an unrelenting process for me. It hasn’t been easy to gather all the chipped pieces of myself and to trust the reparation process. I’m still very much in the thick of it. Looking back over the last year or so, I can see though, how my recovery has paid off and I am indeed worth more than I was before the “damage”. When I learn to “let go and let God”, miraculous things happen. My areas of brokenness are not only repaired, but they are laced with gold. The parts of me that I used to think were ugly have been infused with love, patience, compassion, and acceptance. I am super grateful for God’s Kintsugi art with my life. I am indeed more precious and more valuable than I was before.
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To love you is to grieve you, all the time.
Watching my children grow up, I found it very difficult to let go of each stage as they grew, learned, and matured. There was always something special about each stage that would be gone forever once they transitioned. I loved all those special things... all those special stages. Never again will I see toddler Warren; snaggle-toothed AJ will never be my little sidekick again. Loving my children, I have become intimately accustomed to the constant grief that comes with loving each new iteration of them, and losing the previous one. Recently, I've come to see this as true for all types of relationships. When I meet someone new and connect, there's usually something we have in common that makes us vibe. Our personalities mesh. Our lifestyles are similar. We have similar backgrounds and interests. Our paths align. Something. But the reality of impermanence means that none of those similarities lasts forever. Though we may stay the same at our core, life is a constant state of self-discovery. As I turn over the stones of my being, I discover parts of myself that I didn't even know were there before. New and different aspects of my being rise to the surface. To anybody else, this can easily look like I've changed... like I'm changing all the time. While my overall personality remains the same, internal discoveries and awakenings cause the way I interact with the world to change. My lifestyle has been shaped and influenced by many factors, like my socioeconomic status and my relationships. As I put days behind me, my "background" constantly morphs to reflect where I've been. It's like a rolling average where the most recent is weighted more heavily. My interests are constantly changing and I'm the type to get excited and deeply explore a new interest with remarkable zeal. I'll tell you today that one interest is the coolest thing EVER, only to be on something completely different another day. My path, which I used to think was set in stone, is unfolding as I make decisions. There are loved ones I've lost simply due to the fact that our paths were once aligned and then, they weren't. To love me is to grieve me, all the time. Love and grief are partners whose dance I've watched a million times. It's amazing, how they glide across the floor so effortlessly that there are moments you can't tell which is which. They look and move the same. You can't have one without the other. I'm so grateful for this. Because love teaches us how to grieve and grief teaches us how to love. I want to be a polyglot. My first language is English but I have been fluent in Spanish since I was about 13. I took two years of French in college and last year, during the pandemic, a friend of mine put together a study group to co-learn/teach ourselves isiZulu. Recently, I started practicing French again and this time, I am going to study it until I’m as fluent in French as I am in Spanish. I think it’s safe to say that I have a love for words and I want to know as many words as possible…. in as many languages as possible. If you ask me, words are the most special part of being human.
As a child, I always hated the saying, “sticks and stones may break my bones, but words may never hurt me.” I felt like that was just so untrue, especially because it was said in response to hurtful words. I understand the sentiment behind it and I guess it’s good to encourage children to think that words can only hurt them if they allow them to. But I think this idea unfairly puts the responsibility on those being told hurtful things to not let those words hurt his or her feelings. Also, I think it inherently diminishes the power of words. We also say, “actions speak louder than words.” But it’s words that allows us to experience community. It is what we use to connect with others and to know where we belong. Trevor Noah talks about this in his book, Born a Crime. He says language “defines who you are to people.” Another notable South African, Nelson Mandela, once said, “if you talk to a man in a language he understands, that goes to his head. If you talk to him in his language, that goes to his heart.” I love the simultaneous simplicity and profundity of this statement. It reminds me of the way Spanish speakers light up when I unexpectedly speak to them in their language. Languages matter because words matter because people use words to communicate with one another. What’s even more interesting to me is that the way in which people use words is very telling. I once read a book called The Secret Life of Pronouns and I was amazed at the reported findings of researcher Dr. James W. Pennebaker. Apparently, you can predict the compatibility of two people based off of how they use pronouns. To me, this is remarkable when I consider that pronouns don’t even appear to be something that we have a choice about how we use. I would have thought that the use of pronouns was 100% dictated by the rules and mechanics of the language. But as it turns out, how we pronouns is as unique as our fingerprints. Amazing, right?! How people use words as a whole is unique, which aligns with a belief I’ve held for a long time. Maybe it’s because I love to talk or maybe it’s because I’m a writer, but I have always thought of words as a way to get insider knowledge about a person. I remember being impressed by my language arts teachers in grade school, who were able to call out plagiarism, especially when it came in the form of one student passing off another student’s work as his or her own. Of course, as I grew up, I realized it was because my teachers had become familiar with the writing styles of their students. Even in my own personal life, there have been times when I would think to myself or say to others, “that doesn’t sound like SoAndSo.” People definitely have a distinct way of using words. I’ll even take it a bit further. You might laugh, but I think we all have catch phrases. One day in undergrad, a group of us were hanging out in the Black Student Organizations (BSO) office. We got to talking about catch phrases. You know, being 80s babies and all, we could totally appreciate how the characters on The Simpsons had their catch phrases, so we went around the room identifying the catch phrases of each other. It was hilarious to see how when one person suggested the catch phrase of another person, everybody would shake their heads and laugh in agreement. Then, there was a long pause when the question came up, “what’s Tanya’s catch phrase?” Everyone was thinking hard and then my friend Kenjie exclaimed in a high-pitched impersonation of me, “I know right” and the entire room burst into laughter!!!. Apparently, that’s my catch phrase. At least, it was in 2005. I say all of that to say, words matter. How we use words matter. Words represent how we engage with each other, the world around us, and even ourselves. In the Christian creation story, God created all that is with the Word. “Let there be…. And there was.” It’s also said in Proverbs 18:21, “the tongue has the power of life and death.” We also know, “the pen is mightier than the sword”. My ultimate goal? To use words, as many words as I can (in as many languages as I can learn) to speak life into others, to connect with the people around me, and to create the life I dream to live. Words are my favorite thing about being human. So it’s only fitting that I want to be a polyglot. Listening to this episode of the Meditative Story Podcast this morning, I was prompted to think of someone whose talents, gifts, and kindness is underappreciated. The first person to come to mind is one of my most favorite humans on earth. Today’s blog post is my way of giving this person her flowers, now. She deserves to be honored and recognized for all the ways that she shows up powerfully in this world and shows up in others’ lives to make a difference.
This angel on earth’s legal name is Lillie Williams. But, she’s known by far more than the 2 sons she gave birth to as Momma. By many more that she shares no blood relation, she is called sister, auntie, grandma/nanna. Whoever needs her and finds their way to her is met with open doors and open arms. Always. She consistently stands in the gap for people in need and I am no exception. I met Momma Lillie in 2003 as a Federal Work Study student. My oldest son Warren was a few months old, and I needed a job that I could work as many hours as possible while finishing my degree. She was the Human Resources Manager in the School of Civil and Environmental Engineering at Georgia Tech and she hired me. Little did I know that this work study job was going to set the trajectory of my life in such a grand way. Lillie never meets a stranger. She’s one of those people that can talk to and relate with anyone from any walk of life. If I had to call out her special gift, I would say that’s it. Her spirit reaches you before her body does. Her energy is infectious. Her smile will turn your day around. Her hugs feel as though she’s gathered all the love of all the grandmothers that ever grandmothered as she embraces you. She is truly one of a kind. She is a blessing. As her employee, I watched this woman bend over backwards to help international students stay in the country and stay in school. She went to bat, time and time again, for faculty during their promotion and tenure application process. I was only ONE of her MANY work study students that she helped get through college. Throughout the years, she directly and indirectly mentored students; she sowed seeds of love, faith, and hope in all of us. She provided opportunities that we wouldn’t have otherwise had. For me personally, she made the biggest difference in my ability to still graduate despite having a child in college. Since I was a work study student, I could work up to 20 hours a week. I needed every single one of those hours because I needed every single dollar I could get. No matter how crazy or jacked up my schedule was, she let me cram in hours whenever and however I could. She let me bring my son to work when I had to. And there were even times when she watched him so that I could go to class. To this day, my sons call her “Nana”. She gave me rides to and from campus. She would take me to Piccadilly for lunch and fed me during times I likely would not have eaten, otherwise. I cannot even begin to recount all the ways that she allowed God to work through her in my life. But what stands out the most when I think about her role in my life, and the reason I call her Momma, is because she believed in me when I was the most insecure and most doubtful of myself. When my academic advisor told me in my 6th year that I might as well give up because I was not going to graduate, she countered that with such a steadfast faith in my abilities that I believed her over my advisor. It took me a long time and I experienced many setbacks, but she was right. I did indeed graduate, with my 3-year-old son in tow. I remember crying to her countless times when I was heartbroken from failed relationship after failed relationship, wondering who was going to love me AND my child. She would listen and console, then council me. She would validate my feelings, then remind me of who I am and whose I am. It’s hard, if not impossible, to stay down on yourself when you’re in her presence. She was out here adjusting other women’s crowns long before it was a meme. My reflection this morning made me wonder who adjusts Lillie’s crown? Who reaffirms just how special she is and combats the naysayers that try to dim her light throughout the years? Because a light like hers does not shine without opposition. Who, among those of us she’s helped throughout her life and career, takes the time to thank her and let her know just how important she is? Today, I want to do exactly that! Momma Lillie: “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!!! Thank you for being you. Thank you! May you achieve your potential, making even more of a difference in the world than you already do today.” Thank you! Thank you for being more than a mother, sister, auntie, and grandma. Thank you for always showing up for others. May you show up for yourself with that same energy, today and all the days of your life. Because your life matters and I love you immensely. I hope you enjoy your flowers. An old friend of mine used to say things to me like, “it must be nice” when I shared about certain aspects of my life. While I may bitch and moan about my life sometimes, the truth of the matter is, I know very well that I enjoy a rather decent life. I used to feel a bit of shame and a lot of ick inside when my friend would utter that phrase to me. I know the times that I have used that phrase, I was being snarky and I was basically stating that the person is enjoying a privilege that was not earned or deserved. She very well may not have been making that statement in that way, but that’s how I received it. And as I was accustomed to doing at that time, I would internalize this statement and question whether or not I deserved this “nice thing”. I would internally wonder how a person like me could be so bold to think that she deserved this nice thing. Because yeah… it IS nice. It’s nice to know that you have enough money in your bank account to cover your bills AND feed your kids. I actually think it’s REALLY nice because I remember very vividly when I didn’t have that. While my friends were out enjoying their 20’s, kid-free and financially reckless, I was counting coins to buy diapers and formula. I could write an entire memoir about my struggles as a full-time student at Georgia Tech with a baby and a full-time job and no car. I worked REALLY hard to change my circumstances, and my hard work has paid off. So why did I feel dirty when I reveled in the victory and my friend responded with those four little words? Those four little words made me cringe because I didn’t actually believe I deserved to be happy or to have nice things.
Once I started thinking in this way, I would begin to receive further confirmation as I lost nice things in one way or another. Challenges and controversy would arise, and I would suddenly be flooded with example after example of, “see, I can’t have nice things.” I have literally said that so many times to my kids. This thought pattern fed my overachieving drive and pushed me to show how much I “deserved” this nice thing. I was constantly chasing some elusive proof that I was worthy. My martyrdom has been anything BUT altruistic. I would sacrifice to the point of suffering to prove to myself and then prove to others that maybe I WAS good enough to deserve nice things. Because shit, I WANT TO ENJOY NICE THINGS. I want to enjoy a nice life. Even if that means I have to work for it, earn it, and deserve it. You know what I’ve learned this past year? That’s total bullshit! I deserve nice things and I do not have to prove myself worthy of them. As Dr. Maya Angelou tells me every morning when I wake up and look at my vision board, I, alone, am enough. I have nothing to prove to nobody. I’ve also learned that when I start thinking in this way, I start to receive further confirmation as nice things seemingly land in my lap and fall into my life. Blessings and opportunities arise, and I am suddenly flooded with example after example of, “I deserve nice things”. When I express my gratitude for these nice things, they grow and multiple. It literally never fails. So when you see me out here living my best life and sharing all the love, joy, peace, happiness, and prosperity that overflows from my cup to the point where I HAVE to give it to others… If you ever feel so inclined to think “it must be nice”, know that I know that I know: it damn sure is! And I deserve it. Trigger Warning: This post may be triggering for anyone that has struggled with pregnancy, miscarriage, labor, or delivery. My love goes to you.
There was really only one way to describe the feeling: restless. On Friday morning, I woke up about 3 am, per usual, to use the bathroom. I'd already struggled to fall asleep the first time, but now, it felt impossible. I tossed and turned. I tried putting something on Netflix to distract me long enough for me to doze off. Nothing worked. Just like that, two hours had passed by and I was still awake. Waking up, sensitive to my energy, my boyfriend Hasan asked, "having trouble sleeping?" I started to cry. "I'm just really restless," I replied. Noticing that I was crying, he sat up and asked what was wrong. The deluge of thoughts and feelings escaped from me like the water from a dam released. I was overwhelmed. I felt the pressures of responsibilities that I signed myself up for when I was trying to prove myself worthy to others, and I realized that they were responsibilities I no longer wanted. I was feeling a 39-year-old tantrum of "I DON'T WANNA!!!!" as I thought about the day ahead of me. There were people, things, and situations that would be asking for my time and attention. And I didn’t feel like giving it to them. All I wanted to do? Write. Honestly, that's all I want to do, ever. But, I often feel like I can NEVER get to writing because of all these things I "have to do". Or do I? The honest truth is, I've been asking myself the "or do I really have to?" question a lot lately. Which brings me to another feeling. I've also been feeling like I'm on the verge of taking a major leap of faith. And it's terrifying me. But at the same time, it's clear to me that the train has already left the station. I can't unlearn what I now know. And I can't unfeel what it's like to take care of myself, to love myself, and to allow God to work and love through me. I don't want to unfeel that. As a matter of fact, that's the life I want and I’m striving towards. And as each day passes by, as I get closer and closer to 40, I start to feel like the discomfort of doing the same thing... the painful result of my insanity will at some point outweigh the fear of taking that leap. That day hasn’t come yet. But every day, I feel myself getting more and more courageous. Every victory, no matter how big or how small, contributes towards my overall sense of, "God's got my back." As I cried to Hasan, I described how I felt internally. I felt like there are plate tectonic level shifts happening inside of me as I experience this transition from what I’ve been doing to what I want to do. It’s painful and uncomfortable. After pouring my heart out, Hasan reminded me of an experience I’ve had twice: giving birth. “You’re a mother. So, you know that giving birth is painful and uncomfortable.” Spoken like a father that watched his son enter the world, Hasan helped me change my perspective on this pain and discomfort I have been feeling. I am indeed on the verge of giving birth. What I have been feeling is the equivalent to the labor pains of contractions. The contractions are necessary to shift things into place and to prepare for that final push. Thinking about my own labor and delivery experiences, I now have a frame of reference to help guide me through my impending birth. There are eight simple reminders that I want to share with you. Perhaps, you’re on the verge of giving birth to something beautiful, too.
Now let me go on and breathe…. I feel another contraction coming on! Come along and read as I challenge myself to write 40 blogs in the 40 days leading up to my 40th birthday, on August 28th. This challenge is significant to me for many reasons, which I'm sure will be shared with you over the next 40 days! Some posts may be long (read: most) and some will be short. I'm gonna let them be whatever they turn out to be each day. I hope you get a little something something out of it. At least you can say, you knew me before I turned 40!
And please, let me know you're ready, by commenting. I may not respond but I will read every comment. |
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