Skip to main content

I'm Still Here, but I'm not the Same.

To my lovely readers,

 I want you to know that I'm still here. I have been avoiding writing because my life is a little imperfect right now, and to share it with you would be very risky for me because it would mean being honest. As you know, I am very insistent on honesty. So since being honest would be hard, I decided to wait until I was confident enough to share this honesty with you.

 My life is such a grand mural, and a new paint or pattern may become splatted on it at the drop of a hat, with no warning and certainly no opportunity to wipe it off or rearrange. Once it's there, it's there. Displaying right on my heart. There's no way around it. I want to be responsible in how I share the new art that's been done, so that my words will paint an accurate and, again, confident portrait of what is now. 

 I find such an escape through writing, painting, playing my instruments. But I have to remember not everyone understands and unites with my soul. And I'm okay with that. But again, like a true artist, I slave and slave over my craft until I decide that it is okay to let the world see some of my art. And that can take a very long time for me. Because it is never perfect. It's never worthy enough to me to be released. And that is part of who I am. Thank you for letting me just be. Letting me just be me. 

 And now finally, I am going to unveil some of my imperfect art to you. I'm not asking you to like it, to understand it, to agree with it, or to accept it. But I am asking you to look at it for a while, and mull it over in such a way that afterwards you see the depictions I've carefully and painfully etched into it. You should see the glimmers of hopeful healing and relieving acceptance that are finally starting to appear. If you can but see some of that objectively no matter your opinion on my art, then I can smile that we can at least both look upon the same mural and see something great that is in the stage of becoming. 

 I'm still here, but I'm different than I was even three months ago. And I'm okay with that. Because my journey, my enlightenment, and my realizations have shown me that no matter what popular social opinion may be, I have a unique mindset and my set of experiences have shaped that into something that won't match anyone else's mural. I am so in awe of the murals I see painted all around me, on the posts through social media of my friends, of their new realizations. I am so happy and proud. I am so glad that this generation is becoming  free the way it was meant to be. 

 Thank you for peering into my journey with me. I am so appreciative and honored, needless to say humbled. But most of all I am becoming very free. And that is the best feeling indeed. Thank God Almighty. I'm becoming free at last.

 Yours,
Monica
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

White or Black? Choose ONE.

After a long hiatus from blogging, I was finally inspired to pick up my virtual "pen" and write after reading, crying, and being inspired by an article in the May issue of Ebony magazine. Catapulted in part by the remarks by Halle Berry in a past issue of Ebony regarding her view on her daughter's race, this issue is chock-full of articles regarding mixed persons' views of themselves, their families, their mixed-raced children, and what they regard themselves as racially. The crying ensued as relief-that I am not alone, that others feel as I do, that I can share my feelings without the fear of judgement. That I can be honest about who I see myself as. Because this is about ME, not about others' feelings or perceptions of me. Not about what is "politically correct" regarding my raceor allowing society to push me into a "neat little box" of either Black or White. As an adoptee, my Black parents always made sure I knew what I was mixed with, b
6 comments
Read more

What I Wish I Would've Done

Everyone handles grief differently. I would say I hold it at a distance, tolerating it in small spurts. My Great-Grandmother Donna Langdon died recently. Although I only knew her for a short time (being reunited 6-7 years ago after being adopted), I find myself missing her. I handle death in a very meticulous way. First, I being to tell myself that it will soon happen, sometimes preparing many, many years in advance. I have done this with my grandparents, and I did this with my great-grandmother. Some people say they "don't think about it," but I'm the opposite...I understand it as a normal part of life, I forewarn myself of it's pending coming, and gently remind myself every so often so I can figure out the best way for me to handle the situation. This may seem morbid to you, or insensitive even. Truth is, if I don't think about it, plan on it, I'm not sure how my grief process would end up. For me, death is the ultimate separation in this life. I'
6 comments
Read more

Sometimes, I cry...

Today was terrible. I'm sitting now finally having gotten through it, with "Sex and the City: The Movie" playing in the background, my hair damp from an aromatic shower, and my honesty about to boil over and burn your lap. After a nearly two-week streak of overwhelming joy and happiness, hope for new possibilities in my life, today I crashed, and I mean h-a-r-d. Today mommy-ing was so rough. My son seems to never stop calling me. The cat never stops play-biting. My daughter gets clingy and whiny from getting up too early and wanting to nap before lunch. The long list of things to do on my day off (written by me, of course) is slowly being completed, but my fatigue isn't melting away. In fact, even after 9 hours of sleep, I was so tired today I was disappointed in my body, of all things. This is not an ordinary tired. This is a I've-been-trying-to-figure-out-why-I've-been-fatigued-for-over-a-year-and-my-doctors-don't-seem-to-care-or-know-anything-and-I
2 comments
Read more