Memento Mori: April 2021

I thought April was going to be filled with less pain.

I couldn’t have been MORE wrong.

My father passed away 4/13/2021.

When a parent dies, regardless of how great/terrible the relationship was, it isn’t something that we can mentally prepare for when it comes to how we emotionally brace ourselves. All we can do is feel whatever there is to feel, process it as best we can, and let go. I’m not going to say one part is easier than the other because they’re all difficult to do and I don’t blame anyone for not wanting to let go for the rest of their life.

My father was a hero and a great man to a lot of people. I could rightfully say that they didn’t know my dad the way I did, and I’d be 100% right. Even my brother, sister and mother had different relationships with my father. He apologized to them for being who he was behind the veneer of greatness he was to other people. I received no apology before his death. A bit of me feels robbed of even the last attempt to show he cared. I’ll never get that moment where it even seems like I’ll get a piece of the father I deserved. He died without my view of him changing and when I attempt to articulate it, it only sounds like rage. Especially hearing and reading people tell me how to feel because their experiences and memories of him were worth remembering.

If I could completely forget the bad that outweighs the good, I would but it would literally be forgetting who he is. The amount of good my father did, outside of obligatory things we’re supposed to do as parents, is a measuring tantamount to a deadbeat father who makes sure that when he does show up, he does so with a gift. That gift that’s supposed to make up for not keeping you safe, tricking you into believing he loves you BECAUSE he’s your father. The gift that you don’t realize is some bullshit until you’re much older and understand that some people would rather do ANYTHING but show true accountability. A gift that saves face and is more about them than it was ever about you.

I had to grab all these confusing feelings and tuck them away for my surgery that was 4 days after my father’s funeral. A memorial service that angered me more than put me at ease. It was a reminder that how we remember people will always vary depending on who you’re talking to and all the recollections can be true. Imagine the cruelty of diminishing anyone’s memory simply because they’re different. But of course, we aren’t going to have too many services where someone lays the bad deeds out as we do when it comes to praise. They opt to keep them out of sight because that also puts them out of mind. It would even be considered poor etiquette to say “this person was not always the great person most people knew them to be…” So those who had sordid pasts with the deceased tend to swallow their discomfort in favor of others remaining comfortable or they distance themselves completely.

There have been lots of nights since 4/13 where I’ve been close to deciding on [even more] distance. Death isn’t overwhelming because I don’t know what happens after dying. Experiencing someone I know dying isn’t a lot because I’m afraid of death. Death isn’t scary to me because I accept it as inevitable. Kind of like having a period if you have ovaries and a uterus. It’s something that happens whether we want it to or not. This death has been heavy because of all the unanswered questions that will never have an answer directly from my father’s mouth. It’s an immense amount of pressure that initially made me hyperventilate in the elevator because of what I’d like to do to help myself right now versus what I had to do.

My surgery was supposed to happen on 4/19/2021. The surgery needed to be rescheduled because of my recent medical history. As soon as I hung up with the scheduling nurse, my cell phone rang and I saw my mom’s name and even though I knew there was a great chance of the call coming any day now, it was still like being punched in the chest when I heard her say, “he’s gone.” Hearing my cousin in the background crying, further solidified the truth. Not saying my mental state was any better from the 19th to the 27th but I got to breathe a little more than if the surgery hadn’t been rescheduled.

Having to go back to work a lot sooner than I wanted to has helped me to compartmentalize things into a bucket I’ve entitled, Deal With This Shit Later. I used to be a bit more detailed with my labeling, but life has a way of happening where you don’t really have all the time in the world to do what would preserve your mental health. Regardless of the advice from mental health advocates and professionals, America is not the place where the majority cares if you’re okay. People are going to keep asking the same question of “how are you” until they’re no longer interested in our welfare. Sometimes the people who ask don’t genuinely care but it’s a societal norm to act like we care. I decided I’m going to continue saying “I’m here” until I feel like saying something else because, it’s a truth.

So the recovery from this surgery has been tough. I’m supposed to be taking it easy, considering this is a 30-day recovery. However, time stops for no one. I still must be present for my daughter, my job, and whatever little bit of myself that keeps the insane part tethered to the strongest parts of my sanity. Now isn’t the time to lose it and I am reminded of this when I think about when Bug was born. Life changed drastically the day I was beyond the date I could get an abortion. I was officially committed to another person. That thought alone was deep enough to drown in the first two years of my daughter’s life. I knew to be the mother SHE needed (not the one I wish I had when I was little), there was a LOT I had to get busy adjusting and leaving behind. I liked who I was at 29 years old, so it was like asking me to change simply because another person wanted me to…

When we view parenting from that lens, it automatically becomes another life difficulty. We’re not supposed to change because of other people, right? We’re supposed to change because we want to and recognize the need for growth. I didn’t want to however, I’m glad I did because it has made me a person who has collected the mental fortitude to keep telling myself I can get through MORE shit.

I’d be lying if I said there aren’t moments when I wish I had a pass to lose my shit and completely snap. I wish there were some guarantees that once I do snap, I’ll have the time necessary to get my mental state back together. I wish all my relationships could be protected from any of the effects associated with any negative behaviors that inevitably flare up when you’re not doing all that well. I wish I were terrible at being self-aware so I could be like some of the self-centered muthafuckas who have no problem making everything about themselves or the hardships they’re currently experiencing. There are no guarantees that I’m going to be okay. I just wake up and keep going because as far as I’m concerned, that’s all I can do at the moment.

Some of my goals will be delayed due to my healing process but I’m not putting them on the backburner. My determination to succeed at being something more than just someone’s mother, still exists. I don’t say that with any disdain. I say that from a place of knowing, I wasn’t born JUST to be someone’s mother. Bug would have made her spiritual way to this earthly realm one way or another. I just so happened to accept the role as Life Guardian this time around. A result of me completing the things that are important to me will be that Bug has an example of following through on what she loves and wants in her life. No matter the obstacles, she’ll never be able to say she doesn’t know anyone who refused to give up.

Last but DEFINITELY not least, honorable mention of my divorce proceedings starting the first week of April. The husband promised to not be or make anything difficult with the process. Time has determined that was a lie. It’s stressful but good ol’ compartmentalization allows me to move how I feel about shit being drawn out longer than I want. I didn’t still want to be married to him 7 years beyond when we separated. However, when you’re dealing with someone who proudly stated, “if I have to make someone else’s life difficult for my life to be easy, I will”, I gotta admit, this is on par for his behavior.

So as much as I got through April and will approach May with the same attitude for my own benefit, I did it for Bug too. The month of May brings a milestone for Bug that I want to be fully present for… she graduates from the 5th grade. Becoming a 6th grader is a big deal for her and I’m doing my best to not rain on her parade with all my sad. The closer we get to her commencement date, the more she’s smiling. I’m going to love her joy until I can fully dive back into my own.

Hopefully, all this character-building bullshit evens out and I get to see some fruits of all this emotional labor. Who knows when that shit will start kicking in, but I do know May needs to chill the fuck out and just let me breathe easy.

Here’s to May having what I need the most right now.
Here’s to the universe just being like, “here” because I trust it knows better than me.

Memento Mori: March 2021

The month of March has been a reminder of the fact that I’m aging. So here’s my constant stream of thought from this month…

I want to be clear, I’m not afraid of getting, being, or called old. It’s no walk in the park but it IS weird because of how many people my age (and older) abhor being (called) old. They’ll try to reframe it every chance they get, even stating that being old is only a state of mind. Sure, Jan. Our bodies don’t flex, heal or operate the way they used to when we were younger and THAT’S OKAY! There’s absolutely nothing wrong with accepting this as a fact.

So… I feel more comfortable being around people who don’t run from aging. While people who are obsessed with not aging might look at it as some sole endeavor to stay forever young, the comments made about their lack of youth (and others) remain cringey as fuck. You think people don’t like themselves when they’re teenagers or in their 20s? Talk to someone close to 40 years of age and older who never want to get old or look their age. It’s like listening to a teenager on a thousand.

I’ve fallen for the third time in the last 9 months and due to aging, my body is like “awww, fuck you.” I’ve lived with chronic pain all my life but it was easier to just push through because there was always some liquor to drink. Once I became a teenager, there was also something illegal to ingest that helped tone down the pain. I remember when I found out I was pregnant, part of that 7 minutes of crying on the toilet was because I knew if I went through with the pregnancy, I couldn’t use the same coping mechanisms I’d been using to deal with the pain. Unbeknownst to most people, this is also one of the reasons my pregnancy was extremely difficult for me. Bug was 100% healthy the entire time. I was in excruciating pain, most days.

The doctor who is going to do the surgery on my arm made me feel a hell of a lot better about all the recent additional pain. He never once insinuated I was exaggerating or that it wasn’t as bad as I felt. The procedure he’s going to do will allow me to get back to using my left arm that’s been pretty much out of commission for the last 6 months. We had a good laugh about this being the beginning of my mid-life crisis. Why wait until my presidential year when I can get started during 41?!

As you can see, the running theme of March has been PAIN.

There’s also been a lot of emotional and mental turmoil. The divorce proceedings have started and even though I’m ELATED for this shit to finally be in motion, my anxiety escalates every time I think about the discovery process. Not mine but the discovery of the spouse. Will he do what he said he would and keep it cute so it remains uncontested? Or will he do what I know him best to do… ignore what he doesn’t want to address? If he picks the latter, my attorney fees go up and so does my stress.

My father is also on his last leg. This is something some people have been hearing from me for the last 4 years or so. I’ve joked about him dying because it’s my sordid way of coping with grief I don’t even want about a person who doesn’t really love me… but gotdam these genetics, I still have a modicum of love for him. My mom says she worries about how my sister and brother will deal with my father passing… but she isn’t worried about me. Typical of my family. They don’t worry about me, even when my life is in shit shambles BECAUSE I’m the one who always manages to survive. Nice. Even though my brother and sister are doing the same damn thing… managing to survive. That’s been the sad story of our lives.

I almost felt like there were no silver linings to this month but there were actually some pretty good ones. Despite my commitment to myself to not finish things on a good note in an effort to give the appearance that I’m a positive person all the time, the following is some shit that really did make me smile amid the chaos. Two of my friends had birthdays this month and it reminded me of the people who DO care about me. They’re great fucking people and I’m fortunate to have them in my life. They both live thousands of miles away but the effort they put into us remaining friends? The shit’s appreciated.

Also, my kid. She’s truly one of the most amazing people I know. There might be a smidge of bias here but I genuinely like her as a person. Her presence legit makes my days better.

So as I enter April, I look forward to less pain (after this surgery), more celebrating (a few more friends have birthdays) and the growth that comes with moving on through life.

Goodness gracious 41 is turning out to be a tough old bird.

Memento Mori: February 2021

The irony of this being the shortest month of the year but it is taking the longest to recap is… telling.

I started this memento mori three times before finally stopping and closing my laptop. I remembered that I’m supposed to be writing intentionally, not just because another month of 2021 has passed and content is king. I’ve decided I’m okay with saying “I FEEL” in conversations and when I write. I’d edited it out of my language as much as possible or added “think and FEEL” because of something I was told many moons ago about saying “I FEEL.”

I was told that if I used “I FEEL” in my speech, it would cause people to think I’m led by my emotions and to avoid that, say “I think” so that it’ll be clear I’m logical. It has taken me decades to stop believing this, even while knowing to be as wholly a human being as possible, we will make the best decisions when we unite our heart AND mind. This isn’t to say November, December and January weren’t written using both. It is to say I was avoiding it for February and that’s why everything I wrote FELT shitty.

February has been full of me FEELING. I’m not comfortable with most of these FEELINGS. As I type this, I’m also acknowledging the uncomfortableness of March that started seeping in a couple weeks ago. My due date for the kid I’ll never give birth to was March 26, 2016. Every fiber of my being told me I was having a boy and every year that goes by since my decision in 2015, the thought that I won’t be having a son settles deeper into the cement of my… FEELINGS. Grief is one of those things that you don’t know how it’s going to FEEL until it hits you. You don’t know how you’re going to deal with it or what new sensitivities you’ll develop because of it either.

There were good things that happened in February, but grief makes me forget what FEELS good until my mourning spirit goes back into hibernation. If I had to explain what it FEELS like, I’d say it’s like depression. Almost like there wasn’t any sunshine or happiness prior to what I’m grieving and there won’t be any to come. Yes, logic tells me that one dark and gloomy event that happened in my 41 years of life shouldn’t overshadow the multitude of bright and cloudless moments. So, I re-read the January memento mori and got stuck on, “January was a time of letting the emotions settle around how to let go of what doesn’t serve my life commitments. As I go into February, I look forward to more air being cleared for the path of destiny I chose a while ago.”

Thinking obsessively about something I cannot undo is human, to me. Healthy? Not really but this has been the cycle for 5 years. It’s too early to tell if by February of 2022, I’ll be ready to let go and view it as something deserving less of my attention. As of today, I’m okay saying I FEEL sad, and I don’t need to follow it up with something light and flowery. I don’t FEEL like sunshine right now and there’s nothing wrong with these FEELINGS. This is what normalizing the spectrum of emotions looks like.

I’m in my FEELINGS and I’m okay with swimming in the deep end because it’s my water to wade in.

I won’t be here forever.

I’m grieving an unborn child because of the thoughts of what I miss and won’t get to love. However, it also reminds me that I still have a kid that needs love and attention.

In a way, February was a reminder to kiss up and rub up and feel up on the ones I love. For March, I want to hold on to the people who matter most, be kinder to myself by FEELING however the fuck I want to FEEL and letting it go as “quickly” as it came.

Here’s to FEELING my way through 9 [more] months of being 41 before I give birth to 42.

Memento Mori: January 2021

Far too often we get caught up in the daily grind and don’t pause enough to stop and smell the roses. Whether those are literal or figurative, it’s a necessary part of life. Especially if we’re down to appreciate life as it’s happening. Committing to a monthly life recap has started reinforcing my decision to rewire this aging brain to operate more intentionally. This commitment dictates that I look back at least once a month, versus waiting until the end of the year. I’m chronicling as I go. I read each prior month before I write the next one. Just as a personal check in… also another way to hold myself accountable. I’m three months into this memento mori but one month into 2021.

2020 is definitely bleeding into 2021 and yeah… it STILL fucking sucks. It sucks that we’re using our amazing fucking brains to figure out even more excuses to be douchebags. I spare no insults when it comes to this pandemic and racism. For why? Some of us spend pretty much all our lives screaming out about injustices and wanting people to take notice, be accountable, and course correct. Then there’s this freakish outbreak and we dial down our screaming out because it conflicts with our desire to go sit in restaurants and be served. It conflicts with our wanderlust to travel all over the world and even within our own country. This fiendish plague forces us to adjust how we spend our money but not to be in a place to save more.

It’s literally all we seem to be able to talk about… even when we don’t to. There’s been a lot of escapism on our behalf. Some healthy and a ton of not-so-healthy decisions. I’ve watched more television in the last year than I’ve probably watched in all my life or at least that’s what it feels like. I’ve also read a lot more too. I’ve been forced to sit the fuck down and be still; partially from the pandemic but also from having two chronic illnesses and ½ my body losing 60–70% mobility from falling twice. All the money I’d saved up that was growing me and the kiddo’s house fund? DEPLETED. Thank you, COVID-19. The flip side to that is that the kiddo has no idea what real struggling looks like. She’s still had her necessities attended to, along with most of her comforts. Aside from not being able to physically touch her friends, I’ve done the best any fully present single parent can to provide what their little human needs and wants.

I am doing more of the things I want to do and less of what I don’t. I’m still putting it out into the universe to assist with the shift away from my professional monotony and into what creatively fulfills me. I’m open to it being manifested in ways I hadn’t imagined. The unknown doesn’t inspire fear, but it does cause a heightened sense of excitement because my childlike curiosity is like WHAT’S HAPPENING NEXT!? I WANNA KNOW NOW! NOW! NOW!!! Even as I work towards more of what I want, I have to acknowledge that the thing I’ve poured most of my heart, soul, blood, sweat and tears into has been: PARENTING. Here’s another moment of transparency: I don’t even love parenting.

We’re often fed the belief that we MUST infuse all our time and energy in the things we love the most and THAT is what will make use happy. I mean, I guess. I love the kiddo more than everything but myself. It sounds off when you say it that way but seriously, take a pause from trying to sound right and admit it… loving yourself better allows you to love everyone else better too. So, that relationship with myself? I make it worthwhile so I can love the #2 in my life… the kiddo. Anyway, parenting be trash a lot of days because it FEELS like it’s mostly about someone else. HOWEVER, it isn’t. It’s about me AND her. She’s one of my favorite people and 100% worth the time I choose to invest in her and…PARENTING. So, fuck it. We here and pushing through!

Seriously though, the last 12 months have made me a better parent in ways I could have never imagined. This last year has also contributed to me being a better writer. Granted, you might be reading this and noticing incorrect grammar. I see it. I don’t care because I’m writing this in my speaking voice. I don’t speak grammatically correct 24/7. It’s okay. If you’ve read this far, what I’m saying is obviously more important than Ebonics and dangling prepositions. When you commit to being intentional with your thoughts, words and actions, you somehow become better at everything that’s important to you. So, while writing sometimes seemed to take a backseat to everything else, when I did get an opportunity to do it, I didn’t waste any time writing what previously used to feel like bullshit.

I been writing shit that matters even though I haven’t been sharing. What you’re reading right now IS part of what I choose to share while I work on the resume filler. January has reinforced so many things I committed to back in 2009 when I decided to be a parent for the rest of my life. There hasn’t been a time when the kiddo hasn’t needed me, and I don’t think that time will ever come. HOW she needs me is what changes as she gets older. As she moves more into her independence, I gain more of mine back. That gives me more room to think and do what else is important to me other than parenting. You guessed it… writing.

January was a time of letting the emotions settle around how to let go of what doesn’t serve my life commitments. As I go into February, I look forward to more air being cleared for the path of destiny I chose a while ago. I also look forward to seeing my daughter’s growth in what’s important to her. It aint been no crystal stair. There’s been a plethora of tacks, splinters, torn up boards and bare floors. But we keep a-climbin’ on, reachin’ landin’s, turnin’ corners and sometimes goin’ in the dark, where there aint been no light. Shout out to Langston Hughes. He knew that sometimes the routes we needed to take to our personal utopias would be rough. Sometimes they’re ugly, plain ol’ dirt paths. To that I say…

I’se still goin’, honey.
I’se still climbin’.

(Originally published on February 7, 2021 via Medium)

Memento Mori: December 2020

December has proved to be better than November, so this has prompted me to end each monthly memento with what I want to come in the following month. However, this is the beginning of my December life recap. I usually do a yearly one, whether I post it or not is irrelevant. It happens. This year, I’m choosing to highlight 20 things that made a difference, to me. Some big, some small, all important and not necessarily in the order listed.

1. Kid Cudi released Man on the Moon III. This is being listed first because every memento that I post will have a Kid Cudi song attached (on IG). I also listen to him while I write these monthly postings.

2. I chose to align my life choices with my life purpose.

3. Me and my mother are on track to having a better relationship.

4. Enforced set boundaries repeatedly and as a result, starting to feel like my energy is being replenished. Slowly BUT surely.

5. Gave myself permission to be okay with the decisions I’ve made and need to make to become a better version of myself.

6. Strengthened friendships that are mutually desired.

7. Apologized more to the daughter.

8. Said “I love you” more.

9. Made room for new friendships, alliances, and opportunities.

10. Read 40 books.

11. Watched A Million Little Things (Season 1 — current episode) and cried like a silent baby.

12. Actually sat still.

13. Wrote more.

14. Became a trained mental health advocate.

15. Finally received a solid job offer after being unemployed (due to this raggedy pandemic) for eight months.

16. Listened to thousands of hours of music.

17. Moved across the country.

18. Rested.

19. Loved myself more.

20. Turned 41 years old.

I must also acknowledge that a lot of December was cloudy, despite having the good reflections above. The money was running out and my main concern was being able to continue to take care of myself and the daughter. The kindness of strangers AND friends helped me push through and the level of gratitude I have for that cannot be expressed in words. I reflected on that when some days seemed like employment just wasn’t going to happen in 2020. With the help of those friends AND strangers, along with prayers to the ancestors and faith that had been whittled down to a mustard seed, shit turned around. With that being said, may January continue to be the open door of greatness it’s starting off to be, not just for myself but also for anyone reading this and our connections.

I hope everyone has a far better new year than the debacle of last year.
Here’s to greatness in January AND the rest of 2021.

(Originally published on January 1, 2021 via Medium)