"Openly Broken" My Story Part 1

Openly Broken

I am a black woman.

I am strong.

Regal.

Always confident.

It took me almost thirty minutes to find the place.  I almost gave up a dozen or so times. The voice in my mind kept telling me to just turn around.  This was a waste of time. But I kept moving forward. When I arrived I sat in the parking lot and cried.  It was such a beautiful day. I could be doing almost anything else but this. I could be almost anywhere else but here.  But that was the problem. Lately I couldn’t do anything. The effort it took to pull the covers off of me in the morning was exhausting.  When the sun peaked through my curtains in the morning I wanted the day to be over. But I remember the day when a new day meant a new beginning.  But things had changed. No, I needed this. I needed to be here.  I had tried everything else, hadn’t I?

I am a black woman.

I am strong.

I have soft hard-working hands that can do almost anything.

I have a sharp mind.

I was over an hour early.  I don’t know why but I felt like I needed time to prepare myself.  I needed to prepare to finally be honest.  I had to prepare myself not to smile and appear to be happy.  I realized that I’d had my whole life to practice how to smile when I wanted to cry, laugh when I wanted to scream, and just cover up my true feelings.  I realized that the face I showed the world and even myself was a mask.  I cried harder.  Heaving sobs escaped my mouth and my body shook.  

I am a black women.

I am strong.

I am strong with or without.

I look my strongest when I am alone.

A grey car pulled in and a casual dressed woman got out of the car.  She walked casually and confidently to an office door labeled one with something hanging from a hook that couldn’t quite see from where I was parked.  I was instantly jealous.  She probably didn’t have a care in the world.  She woke every morning to her perfect house, husband and kids and drove leisurely to her perfect job.  Her biggest concern was probably traffic and if the weather would ruin little Timmy’s softball game on Saturday.  What could she do for me?

I am a black woman.

I am strong.

But I am alone.

I waited for a few minutes after she had went in to finally wipe the remaining tears off of my face.  I checked my hair and make-up in the mirror. I sprayed on few pumps of my perfume, slipped out of my flats into my heels and got out of the car.  The walk to her office from where I was parked seemed so long. My feet felt very heavy and every step took so much effort. I had to think about every step.  I ignored the shouts in my head to retreat. By the time I reached to door I had sweated through my favorite suit blouse combo. I knocked because I didn’t know rather I could just enter.  I didn’t hear anything but I waited. A few moments later the door opened and I was greeted with the warmest smile and sincerest eyes.

When she walked me into her office I followed her in to a smaller office where she allowed me to choose where I would be most comfortable to sit.  She sat directly across from me.  I realized that the whole entire room was set up that way.  No matter where I sat she would always be directly in front of me.

I was glad the place had a homey feel.  There were pictures on the wall that represented something from just about every religion or culture.  I guess she wanted whoever came here to feel comfortable and represented. The array of religious items made me more uncomfortable because it told me nothing about her.

I am a black woman.

I am strong.

Always knowing what to say.

I have an understanding ear.

I was glad she was a she.  I was glad she was white. I don’t think I could have sat before a black woman preparing myself to tell her how weak I am.  How I’m not strong enough these days to keep it together. A white woman would be more understanding to this. I thought. A moment or two after I had sat a rush of emotion engulfed me.  How did I get here? Why am I here? I don’t belong here. My palms began to sweat.  I had to take several deep breaths.

We sat staring at each other for a moment or two too long for my taste.  She smiling. Me fighting the urge not to smile back as to not appear to be okay and the urge to burst into tears all at the same time.  It was like going to the doctor’s office after feeling sick for days only to get there and feel better and have to sort of pretend to be sicker than you actually feel at the moment.  Or taking your car to the mechanic only for your car to suddenly stop making the noise it had been making for over a month. It drives you kind of crazy.

All of a sudden I felt ridiculous.  I felt better. Like talking about me was a waste of time.  Maybe it was just a fluke. Maybe I just needed to pray harder, fast longer, or read more of my Bible.  This was just a test. I should make more of an effort to be in church on time.  Stay for all three services instead of two.  Make it to early Morning Prayer. Maybe I was listening to too much non-gospel music.

“So, how are you feeling today,” she calmly asked slowly enunciating and emphasizing each word.

My eyes immediately filled with tears.  I hate it when people ask me questions like that.  It made me realize that even on my happiest day there is always something wrong.  Some unspoken, unrealized sadness that sits in the corner of my mind that I have chosen (for that day) to not give my full attention too.  

This at least allows me a temporary relief or was it that finally someone had asked me, the strong, independent, I can do it all by myself I don’t need anyone’s help, as long as I got King Jesus, am I okay and how am I feeling.

 I figured that people don’t usually ask that question unless they had a motive or angle or just nosy. My daddy (God rest his soul) always told me, “no one is going to give you anything for free, everything comes with a price.” Rarely had I found this not to be true.  But this was one of those rare moments. Now all I had to do was find the strength to finally be honest. This simple question, I realized had been answered falsely for so long that it was very confusing.

“Well actually all of a sudden I feel okay,” I said jokingly.  We both smiled. “But, uh lately,” I swallowed hard. “I haven’t quite felt myself.” My first of many tears began to fall uncontrollably.  Here I was with so much to say but nothing to say all at the same time. “I’ve been sad lately,” was all I could muster.  

I am a black woman.

I am strong.

I have large warm open outstretched arms ready to hold you.

I have large breasts soft as pillows ready for you to lie your heavy head upon.

A picture in my mind formed of me in my bed still in my pajamas in the middle of the day.  That picture turned into a movie. A movie I replayed over and over again. A movie of me in bed day after day, not wanting and not having the strength to even bathe.  I went days without getting out of bed for anything unless I had to.

My kids would knock on the door come in and climb into bed with me.  They would lie there heads on my chest and ask me what’s wrong. I would whisper a horsed Mommy doesn’t feel well.  It was true. I didn’t know what was wrong. I just knew I didn’t feel good. I didn’t feel like myself. Thoughts exhausted me.  Like the thought of getting up and going to the restroom, or the thought of eating. All of those simple things took so much effort and energy that I just didn’t have.  

“I feel tired all the time.  I don’t want to get out of bed.  I guess I just feel alone,” I hadn’t realized that my voice had trailed off until she cleared her throat to speak again. “Tell me about what’s going on in your life right now,” she said.

I am a black woman.

I am strong.

I have big beautiful lips that spread into a smile as I pour my wisdom and soft kind words into your life.

I smirked because there was a time when I loved to tell people about my life.  I was, in my opinion, always doing or planning to do something exciting. For the past 4 years I had been trying very hard to receive my bachelor’s degree.  I worked very hard. I had a lot to prove to a lot of people including myself. I needed to show them that I was not a failure and that I could finish something I started.  But here I was one semester from finishing and I had run out of financial aid and hope. At this point I was very exhausted of school and really did want to quit but then that would prove everyone right.  I was a failure.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Mental Note: The Company You Keep & the Place Where You Sleep

Now more than ever I realize how the company you keep plays a significant role in your mental health.  First of all, if you have a mental health issue I would encourage you to seek help from a "trusted" therapist or spiritual counselor. 

Secondly, I would take inventory of the people that's in your life.  Are they negative?  This may take some time and observation to find out.  How does this person respond to life on a daily basis? 

Everybody has moments of frustration, anger, sadness, disappointment, but this shouldn't be a every day or every week occurrence.  Being in the presence of or listening to or talking to negative people is very toxic.  And if you're "ill" you cannot be in a toxic environment and expect healing. 

We understand this in the physical world, which is why hospitals are so clean and often cold.  They've created an environment for healing and getting well.  You cannot get well physically in a toxic, and unclean environment.  In a hospital there are a lot of restricted areas.  Every body can't just step into any room or location. 


There are certain areas where there are restrictions and only people that are authorized are aloud in these areas.  Do you know why?  Because they know how to behave around a sick person.  They know the right clothes to wear to protect themselves and the sick person.  They know how to stay clean.  They understand the messiness of the sick. 

I often compare our mental state to our physical state because there are so many similarities.  When you are sick, you can't have other sick people around you because how are you going to get better.  You can't get well in an unstable environment. 

A hospital is a controlled environment.  You have to be in a controlled environment when you're trying to heal mentally.  You cannot be in a place where someone'e moods will change at the drop of the hat.  It's too much of a toxic situation for healing to take place. 

Some of us have gone through various things in our life that have caused us to become vulnerable to certain diseases--(dis-ease)-- cancers (toxins that spread) and dysfunctional behaviors.  In order to get better or to get healing you must change your environment. 

Nothing will get better in a messed up environment.  I sometimes think about trying to get clean in a swamp.  It really doesn't matter how much soap I use in the swamp, I will never get clean. 

NOTE: Remember Who You Are!

I recently re-watched the movie Black Panther and I noticed something that I hadn't before.  In one of my favorite scenes where T'Challa fights M'Baku, it looks like T'Challa might lose the fight, but he says his full name and finds strength that appears to come out of nowhere.  He defeats his foe.


Why did he say his name?  I believe it was to remind him of who he is.  So what's in a name?  I've had moments like this before where I've said "hey, I'm Candace, I don't have to deal with this or live like this anymore. 

What do you think about when you say your name?  What comes to your mind?  When you're in a battle you don't have the time to try to figure it out.  It is during the time of peace and quiet that you have the time to decide who you will be. 

Sometimes I've thought about my name and I didn't like it.  And that's because I didn't like me.  I didn't like who I had become.  But I had to remember who God told me and showed me who I was.  This gave me the faith to know that is was possible to change.  And once I knew that I could change I sought out the wisdom and knowledge so that I could know the steps to change.

So, now when I face battles that seem like I should lose, I remind myself of who I am, where I've been and what I've learned, and somehow, someway I find the strength to keep fighting until I win!

Remember who you are!!!

"These Are My Confessions" (transparent moment)

Walking has become a big part of my daily routine. It gets me out in the fresh air, it helps me stay healthy and it gives me the opportunity to gather my thoughts. Some of my best ideas have come from having alone time and being able to clear my mind. Well, I decided to turn the camera on and just start talking and really expressing my true and honest thoughts. Be prepared...there are more to come!!

Nicki vs. Cardi | Why are y’all shocked???

Of course a lot of the talk and conversations regarding Cardi B and Nicki Minaj New York Fashion Week fight has died down but I found myself still thinking about some underlying similarities between these two women and myself. 

This past week every time I scrolled through my various social media platforms I found several posts regarding these two women.  The comments were deep and the conversations was heavy.  Some women were going in screaming I hate seeing Black women portrayed in this light.  While others were immersed in the drama screaming #teambardigang or #teambarbs, going hard for their favorite female rapper.

It seems as if Cardi B's gang can clearly see the sneaky barbs orchestrating cold and calculated moves to mess up her name and bag.  But the barbs feel as if Cardi hasn't paid her dues enough to even be in the same league as Nicki. 

I honestly could care less which side you fall on.  I don't necessarily have a side.  I enjoy some of both of their music however they don't represent my aesthetic. I share moments with their music that remind me of my past self  and the woman I look to hide from the world.

After reading and viewing some of the other first responders (blogs, news outlets, vlogs) and  scrolling through social media I feel like a lot of us has forgotten one very important thing.  And that is-- that these two women are human beings just like you and me.  Sometimes we are so busy judging others that we forget how we are exactly the same way. 

I will be honest and maybe even the first to admit this but sometimes it's hard to see your friend winning especially when you're not.  And, in most cases its not that you don't want to see them win.  No, it's not that.  It's just that seeing them win really shows you how much you're losing.  And that's okay too.  How you handle these particular set of feelings says a lot about who you are as a woman.

If you are a woman who responds to other women's success with jealousy, spitefulness, being vindictive and petty and picking her apart and pointing out every flaw--You have the problem, not her!

If you are a woman who responds to other women's success by not being able to acknowledge her success without pettiness and some way of making her look insignificant than--You are the problem not her.  Recognizing another woman's success does not take away from your own and I honestly feel like we forget that.  We shine the brightest when we shine together!

I really dislike it when people say things to me like, "Oh, yea I seen your lil blog!"  "Oh, I heard about your lil magazine" and "I see where you say you starting a little company"  Excuse You! I have decided that the next person that does this I will politely say thank you, but there's actually nothing (little) about anything that I do!  It's VERY big to me!

I think it's hard sometimes to be really good at something or very successful for a long time and then all of a sudden there's a new person.  A person whose younger, prettier, doing it just a little bit bigger, or getting a little bit more attention than you to come on the scene.  It's hard.  But it doesn't have to become something that is TOXIC.

When we harbor those feelings of jealousy, and resentment and we make moves that will ensure our success by taking down our rivals or competition we only hurt ourselves.  You will reap what you sew.  Whatever seeds of evil you plant for others will find its way sprouting up in your front or backyard.  And I say backyard because sometimes God don't allow everyone to see the Hell you secretly going through all because you've plotted against or talked against and down on someone. 

What if we all decided to just stay in our lanes and do the best with what we have and give it our best shot encouraging each other along the way.  I'm not saying we all have to work together side by side singing Kumbaya, my Lord.  No, but we can at least decide to respect one another.  Make a pact with ourselves and say I'm not going to speak ill of my sister, my friend, my co-worker, my church member or whoever we're working beside. 

These two women can decide that they don't ever wanna be on a track together.  There's nothing wrong with that.  It would be nice though but it would really have to be genuine because sometimes our best singers come together and they sound good and the video looks good but you can't really figure out why it's not as great as others and it really does have a lot to do with chemistry and how they vibe together.  If they are not getting along a lot of times you can easily tell, especially when you compare it to others where you can see the love.

Affirmations and Honesty part 2

Affirmations and Honesty!!! Part 1