Efflorescent Memoirs

Sunday, September 30th, 2018 11:07AM Brooklyn, NY On the C with Meekz. Heading uptown to my granny’s. Suited in my baggy gray sweats, Meekz in her Nike yoga pants. We’re ready to work. Day two of decluttering the space that epitomizes a loss of love, on many levels. Won’t speak of that in this moment. The only aspect that makes the mentioning of this detail relevant is the fact that the people helping me through this are here because of the level of trust I have for them. I know certain parts of my life are safe with them. As vulnerable as I am with the world on social media, my friends still get way more than I give in blog and Instagram captions. I am grateful.  Meekz has been one of my closest friends, since before I was able to truly define love, family, or friendship. Little-known fact: my original groups of friends have never really shown me love  via Instagram, for various reasons. I used to take it as cold and unsupportive, but I was never brave enough to question them abo

There’s substance in my selfies: I looked up to “pretty” and “fly” girls when I was a kid. Had I seen them reading, I would’ve been a reader, too. I did see them all go to HBCUs — and so I was inspired to attend one, too. I wanted to be like them and they may or may not have known but as a young, relatable teacher in a 6-12, I am aware of what I represent to my teenage girls. The juniors and seniors at my school all read my blog and follow my social, they tell me they are proud of me when they see my accomplishments and they ask to borrow literature just so we can talk about the text together. That’s why I post my mirror pics and my books. The message is: you can say, “Yes, I think I’m cute and I’m smart as hell, too!”

Baltimore   9:09 PM NP: Dunno — Mac Miller What we speak on is what we become.  That’s why I stopped writing about the news.  Ignored it for as long as I could.  And believe me, after all I went through, ignoring it would’ve done me some good.  What we speak on is what we love.  I can only always feel good if I remember this.  Space can’t be real if we are souls.  So we are.  We speak what we be.  I is what I is.  Am what I am.  Light. 

A year ago, I wrote an affirmation. Nothing more beautiful than seeing it go from a seed to a fully manifested bloom. I just paid off my Navient loan thanks to Instagram and Facebook lol this is not an AD— this is my gratitude for the recent ad opportunities that I have been afforded. When I wrote the affirmation I did not know how it would get done, I just knew I was going to do it.  People say, social media is all drama and doesn’t pay the bills, tell them they are not using it right. And I don’t even like social media — y’all know this already; that is why I have an intern who does all of my posting and reads all of my messages. Otherwise, I would be distracted and annoyed by social media so much that I would delete all of my accounts. Empath problems lol ... but I can’t do that because I have a responsibility to share the teaching strategies and self-healing tools that I have learned throughout my journey.  Anyways, I plan to have my fed loans paid off by the end of this school yea

4:54PM— NP: “Faith” -Cowode Autumn feels.  Perfect time for cowboy hats and sweats... grateful.  Headphones in,  doing my growth.  Each of us has to listen to a song and describe our moods. Now kinda wish I would’ve assigned them a free write instead because I just want to flow — but I must stick to the topic at hand. Funny, all power is in my hands when it comes to assigning assignments ...but the power to do the actual work is in the pens of the youth. Lens for the youth. I share my stories to uplift their spirits. They share their love to uplift mine. Their love: comes in many shapes and forms. True gems. Multi-dimensional...  Mood: I am so ready to fly. These last three weeks have been joy, unspeakable. Easy living. Teaching and sewing. Painting and singing. Jazzy words and sun-red phrases.  My mood? I am so ready to fly. Butter pecan butterfly eyes, completely shut. wing span, unlimited.  This is not a dream.  I don’t have to wake up.

Laying my baby hair in the bathroom before I give my keynote ... I imagine I am in a back stage dressing room, channeling the energy of Lauryn Hill and Queen LaTifah and Whitney Houston and Sarah Vaughn. Ready to practice the art of reconstructing my personal narrative on yet another audience of my peers. Revealing excerpts from my traumatizing childhood, leaving their hearts hopeful, never helpless.  The masses will hear my plight and understand that life only feels good because I say it feels good.  My goal is to have everyone saying it! Affirming, “I feel good!” Forcing yourselves to believe until you mean. But take your time with your process.  I am here.  On the other side, with the rest of the tribe, waiting for you.  You belong here.  All of you.  🌹🌹

I haven’t been to therapy in weeks, for the first time in almost 4 years. I felt like I was becoming too dependent on her validation of my ideas and choices... that feeling was beginning to flood my friendships... I was not listening to my inner voice, anymore... I sought answers from everyone else. I’m not saying this is therapy’s fault, I am saying, even when you seek help, dont forget the power of your true self... I’ll be back in therapy next week, though. I am ready to be heard without needing acknowledgement. I know that I am loved and valued, no longer neglected and ignored.  Being away from work this summer slowed me down enough to realize I am fully healed... but during the school year, it is imperative that I attend my weekly sessions, not only for my sanity but for the emotional safety of my classroom. My self care allows me to love my students, even on days when I don’t have energy to love. Sometimes their actions trigger memories of my childhood-trauma. I used to lash out,