Memento Mori: April 2024

March ended as quickly as it began and now we have April.

I’ve written about four different posts for this Memento Mori but erased them all.

It feels forced so this might read as one big ramble.

Today is April Fools’ Day but it’s not giving jokes, at all.

It’s almost like if we aren’t taking everything straight-faced serious, we can’t possibly care about all the problems enough. I committed to living as well-rounded a life as humanly possible. Feeling one particular way for long periods of time doesn’t suit me because it doesn’t feel real. Throughout the course of a day, I want to experience as many emotions as possible and then process them all but in as healthy a way as possible. Constant war, family dysfunction, work dysfunction, unstable relationships, finances, chronic illness, and random bullshit doesn’t leave much room for that kind of experience. So, I’m acknowledging this is where intention comes into play.

We have 24 hours in a day and I want most of those hours to contribute to growth.

March was heavy for a multitude of reasons that trickle into April every year. The difference with this year is that I just let myself feel however I wanted to. I didn’t change anything to get myself to shift out or away from the sadness. It’s an annual thing and maybe it will eventually become less prominent in what affects me the deepest. Until then, I take it as a sign to slow down and rest. Mainly because my brain needs to. This is also a reminder to myself for the entire month of April; any time I need to myself, I need to take it.

Speaking of time to myself, I had a bit of free time the other day while I was waiting on the kiddo. So, I went to my favorite comic book shop and saw this:

Memento Mori by Tiitu Takalo

Yes, that looks a little concerning but it’s a graphic novel memoir of the author chronicling their road to recovery after having an unexpected brain hemorrhage. It was not part of my book haul that day but it made my growing list of books to buy. Despite me writing a Memento Mori every month and not being afraid of death, I still have to be in a specific mood to absorb that kind of material. After thumbing through it in the store, it reminded me that I decided to keep the monthly mementos going because sudden, unexpected shit happens to all of us. These months, whether I share a lot or a little, is a reminder to me that I’m still going.

April will be another month of growth because that’s what I will be doing until the day I die.

But right now, this is all I got to give. Until next month…

Memento Mori: March 2024

January was full of anxiety and February started off with the same energy. I am grateful that I was able to woosah long enough to catch my breath and shift into a space that gave me the opportunity to step away from that anxiety.

I didn’t smoke any cigarettes either. I did drink more coffee than usual but let’s pretend caffiene is better than nicotine for the time being. Last month I randomly mentioned the #7 and its significance and then said nothing else about it for the rest of my post. It was one of those moments where I had to write it out of my head because it was blocking the flow of everything else I wanted to say. HOWEVER, we’re circling back because February was full of revelations, epiphanies, and cultivated seeds sprouting tiny, green leaves of fruition.

I had so many meaningful conversations during those 29 days that I began to wonder how many more wonderful conversations were left to have throughout the rest of 2024. That wasn’t an anxiety laced wonder but one of curiosity. I am getting more and more comfortable with leaning into my intuition over forcing myself to center logic. It has been nothing but intuition that has led me to doing things that make me feel good. Logic has definitely kept me alive but my life shouldn’t just be surviving. As a Black woman, there will not be any time soon when I can completely go from surviving to thriving. I will not create that delusion for myself. HOWEVER, there is room to enjoy life when I can. There is room to thrive, where I can. My intuition has kept me from answering calls that will drain me but it’s also prompted me to answer calls I usually wouldn’t because of the illusion that I’m too busy to take the call. Every decision has been worth it, even if it was just to maintain my peace for the day.

While some people might consider their past to be nothing worth remembering, there are moments from previous years that I truly enjoyed. There were aspects of my younger self that I admired, loved, and never saw myself without… until I was convinced that I needed to leave those parts behind in favor of becoming someone else more palatable. Digestible for what and to who? Someone who isn’t even a staple in my life. I often think about losing myself and never getting back to loving me to the point that I never lose myself again. There was a time when I felt like I was fading away into the shadow of someone else, despite knowing I radiated a light they could never truly put out. But, our brains can sometimes tell us stories that are untrue. I almost believed the stories fed to me. My brain almost made them my reality but there was another part of me still fighting for the truth.

My younger self was always good at clinging to the truth about everything and everyone. I valued it and thought I’d never let it go. Somewhere on this confusing life road I started believing the lie that it’s okay to believe things that are untrue because that’s how you make unreal things, real. I am glad I clawed my way out of that confusion and mess. It was an experience that has scared me enough to know I’ll do everything in my power to not end up there again. One of the ways I know how to seal the deal of not returning to a shitshow is to elevate all the things I was told I needed to change. I was told to change things about myself that were considered unattractive and difficult traits. They weren’t. Those traits helped make me the smart, strong, decisive, determined woman I am today. It prevented people from being able to linger where they didn’t belong in my life. It was like a personal repellent… and it has been working well, lately.

Fullness, completeness, insightfulness, intuition, honesty, introspection, intellectualism, and wisdom. These are all things that have resonated throughout February and effortlessly flowed into March. I have also been paying attention to how I feel and as I change who I spend my time with, I am noticing that I am feeling better… and lighter. It’s reassurance that my changes are necessary and part of my forward movement.

I saw a post on Instagram that said:

“Perhaps this next stage has more to do with who & what you’re choosing to grow with, rather than who & what you’re letting go of”

and it was a Eureka! moment. It’s been common for me to fixate on who and what I am losing or must let go of. I am accepting that sometimes that really is the least of my concerns. That isn’t to downplay that loss can be devastating, depending on who/what I lose. But, I really do think my focus is supposed to be on what I stand to gain in this season. The loss is inevitable. It’s going to happen but I still maintain this feeling of curious wonder rather than anxiety filled wonder. I have this undeniable feeling that all the loss and L’s I’ve experienced in the last 15 years will be outshined by the blessings, change, and love I will soon come to have. I am looking forward to seeing a lot of things unfold and I desire to be around people who are curious to watch with me. People who will cheer me on, be eager to celebrate WITH AND FOR me, and include me in all their joy too. So, here’s to the memento mori of March and all the wonderful things that will bloom throughout this year.

I’m ready :-)

Memento Mori: February 2024

I haven’t smoked a cigarette in 7 years.

The number 7 signifies fullness, completeness, but also insight, intuition, honesty, introspection, intellectualism, and wisdom.

During the month of January, I constantly thought about smoking a cigarette, if for nothing else but to take the edge off of life. I was close to even asking a coworker for one of theirs as I watched them puff away during the work trip. My brain wanted to ask them twice for a cigarette but that same damn brain reminded me that strokes are very real for people who smoke with my chronic illness. Yes, Memento Mori is a reminder that I must die (so live it up!) but that’s eventually AND it doesn’t have to be a slow OR a quick suicide. I can just let life play out and see where it ultimately takes me… so, I didn’t ask for the cigarette. I thought I left that fleeting thought in South Carolina on 1/24/2024 but it came back three days later as my anxiety escalated.

And I have been thinking about cigarettes everyday for the last week.

I started smoking because my anxiety had reached an all time high and there was no way to tone it down. Drinking used to work but that will draw the light closer and leave my child motherless so I tread lightly with liquor. I 100% understand the addictive nature of nicotine because one hit and it slows EVERYTHING down to a tolerable level. My hands stop shaking, the migraine creeping up the back of my skull subsides, the churning in my gut settles, and most importantly, my brain calms the fuck down. It’s an instant fix but an extremely temporary one, hence the habit forming.

I’m not going to smoke BUT this is a lie free space so I’m saying I still want to.

I had a lumpectomy last month and only took a week off work when I should have taken off three. In the month of January, I had to close out the month of December, the last quarter of year, and the rest of the year, right before my surgery. As soon as I came back I had to get hella shit in order before the annual company trip. Took off for that trip a couple of weeks after the surgery and now I’m sick with what feels like a sinus infection/COVID. My energy reserves are depleted and I’m getting a reminder everyday from my body that I cannot push myself like I used to. For one, I’m not 100% healed from my surgery so this isn’t necessarily the smartest course of action but viable options are not plenty in my world. Did I mention I’m also in grad school?

I am a ragdoll who’s been sewing herself back together since she was a live girl.

Due to some articulation skills, I can intellectualize my feelings. This ability has often caused people to think that whatever I’m experiencing isn’t THAT bad. What a lot of people are used to seeing from a person with (complex) PTSD is incoherence and erratic behavior that aligns with words like “crazy” and “unhinged.” However, intellectualizing feelings is not the same as actually processing shit and dealing with it and that’s where the severe anxiety enters the room yearning for a nicotine fix.

A friend acknowledged that my body has been through it for the last few years. That’s been to her knowledge and I appreciate her seeing me and not following it up with some half-ass anecdote that dismisses the validity of my experience. It was a small gesture of kindness BUT it STILL mattered. We’re often told that tough times don’t last forever and while that is definitely a fact, define forever. If tough times are consistently present until my final memento, that was my forever. So, if I look at 2012-2024 of unprocessed shit there’s an abusive marriage, family estrangement, an abortion, begging for a divorce that wouldn’t be finalized until 10 years later, becoming a single mother, several layoffs, family deaths, a couple death scares, several surgeries, dreams deferred, friendships lost, cancer rearing its ugly head, a pandemic, moving across country during a pandemic, having to use up all the life/house savings to survive, a divorce, a dead parent, and the rest of the world being on fire around me, simultaneously.

These last 12 years have been their own damn forever.

So I would like for February to talk to me nicely. I don’t have the energy to plead for more but should more good shit come my way, I’ll take it. Universe, please know this isn’t me saying to pull the final curtain. I’m saying cut me some fucking slack and issue in some wins that cancel out some of this mental and physical anguish.

Life’s a lot to hold right now.

I still want a fucking cigarette.

Memento Mori: January 2024

A new year has arrived and I’m committed to everything I haven’t succeeded in yet that’s of interest to me. Last month I said that I was going to be leaning into feeling more and I have to rephrase that… I don’t have a problem feeling anything. I’ve experienced issues with properly processing what I feel and then moving on. Suppression was my best efforts at NOT dealing with anything that caused me abnormal amounts of anxiety. Suppression was also useful for just ignoring anything that caused me discomfort. I learned early on that most people can’t tell the difference between suppression and genuinely not giving a fuck about anything. Because of that, using the veneer of assholery suited me well… until it didn’t.

A lot of my change was prompted by the choice to become a mother. I’m absolutely positive if I hadn’t chosen to be a parent, it probably would have taken a near death experience to move me away from the protective defense mechanism that inched far too close to sociopathy. Unfortunately life, not just my childhood, laid a pretty solid yellow brick road of mental dysfunction that made suppression acceptable. I wanted better for the kiddo so as difficult as it is to do and be different than what I was raised to be, I’ve been consistently doing it for the last 14 years.

When I say consistent I mean I haven’t given up on being the change I wish to see. Yes, IT IS easier to match people’s petty, disrespectful, inconsiderate, selfish, and nonchalant energy. That rush of dopamine I get when I know that I’ve gotten under someone’s skin that thought they got the better of me? If I could shoot it directly into my veins, I just might give up on this 14-year consistency. HOWEVER, the high doesn’t last and it’s so short-lived that I’m quickly reminded that in order to maintain it, I’d become someone I’d never want my daughter to emulate. Welcome to the brain of an addict. I still want a lot of things that are FUCKING TERRIBLE for me… but in my remembering that eventually we all die, I know I’m not ready… yet.

So, about January… in my efforts to keep working on being a better human, I’m going to start some new holiday traditions with the kiddo. We aren’t close to our families; with the exception of my nephew, I don’t regularly engage my blood relatives. It isn’t due to having no desire to be close to people who share my DNA; it’s 100% due to moving away from dysfunction. This is often referred to breaking generational curses and it’s one of the harder parts. Mainly because as you change, if you still keep the company of those who aren’t changing and won’t, conflict will arise on a regular basis. Familial interaction becomes like oil and water about damn near everything. So, while I’m fully aware that children need more than just one solid person in their lives, I can’t wait on everyone to show that she’s important. I’m still responsible for my part.

Spending the week of Christmas with one of the best friends was a reminder that I don’t have to wait for anyone to include us. While that was a great and unexpected gesture, the kiddo and I spend most holidays in our home. We might go catch a movie and do a little shopping but nothing that I’d consider memorable or different from our usual weekend life. Spending the holidays in New Orleans with both sides of the besties family was like a huge bear hug though… very warm and welcoming. It reminded me of my favorite grandmother too. I never questioned if she loved me because I felt it… something I don’t feel from anyone in my family but my nephew and daughter.

So this January I pledge to exude as much of that love my grandmother gave me, to my daughter. Which leads to a word that has been randomly popping up for the last six months: accessibility.

I think some people had grown used to me being available whenever they wanted/needed me, to the point that they began to take me for granted. The idea that I’m not going anywhere, I guess created space for some people to be like it didn’t really matter how they treated me. You ever notice how cautious people are when they’re afraid they’re going to lose someone? Not saying that’s healthy but it’s obvious that they’ll put effort and energy into not squandering any time they do get to spend with you. In a healthier, ideal world, we would treat each other like their time and presence is always important. But alas, here we are on Earth fucking shit up simply because we can.

I don’t like feeling like I don’t matter. So, I’m changing that too. There are younger versions of myself that possessed parts worth revisiting. Moving forward with my life while others catch me when they can, suited me best. I will admit that I created space for some people to have all the access they want and need and… it’s become to my detriment. I thought I was doing it out of love for them but I think it was done more so out of fear that if I didn’t, they’d leave. To this I say, people gone leave when they want to so if they gone leave, bye. Space needs to keep being created for the things I say I REALLY want in my life and that means letting go of things and people that really shouldn’t be taking up my time and space.

Even as I write all of this, I’m well aware that letting go and actually watching people leave isn’t going to be simple. I love these people. HOWEVER, if every month I have left of this life, I’m supposed to be living it intentionally because death comes for us all, why would I waste another moment with anyone who’d gladly waste the time I have left? I want to live each day doing more of what I like, less of what I don’t, and with people who want that for me and themselves too.

January, I welcome all 31 days of you into my 44th year of life, even if it involves some painful but necessary letting go. I will grim and bear through it.

Memento Mori: December 2023

My birth month has come and gone. Entering December came a little faster than I wanted.

I turned 44 years old last month and it doesn’t feel any different than 43 but that’s life. I’ve only had a few birthdays when something felt significantly different. I owe those to major life changes that happened within the prior year. I will say something that happened in the last year that feels different is acknowledgement from a couple of people that felt more genuine than I’ve ever felt in my life. Sometimes people say things because they think they’re supposed to and I can feel that obligatory energy. It’s not even difficult to describe because it’s very different from someone specifically stating things in detail that let you know they SEE you.

For instance, I have friends who tell me that I am a good mother but… WHY are YOU saying I’m a good mother? Because of the obvious? I make sure Bug is fed, clothed, educated, and loved. That’s legit basic low level parenting shit. Not to downplay it but I’m supposed to do that regardless of what life throws at me. However, when someone says something detail oriented that indicates they have been closely paying attention to what I do as a mother/parent? It’s hella different.

A close friend recently acknowledged some heavy life shit that I have been dealing with alone. They apologized for not being as present of a friend in the last few years of me dealing with getting divorced, losing a parent, moving across country, raising a child with no familial support (solidarity), having a major surgery, finishing up my bachelors degree, and having chronic illnesses. Even typing that out was a bit exhausting. I must be honest and say I haven’t processed my father’s death or this stupid, fucking divorce that took far too long to be over and done with. I haven’t processed a lot of the 44 years I’ve lived that involve traumatic ass shit because I haven’t had the space to just fucking fall to pieces.

I don’t advise anyone to suppress heavy shit. It’s so fucking draining and little bits of your unprocessed shit will either start randomly leaking out or you’ll full blown bleed all over anyone who gets close to you. We can have the attitude that we don’t have time to sit and work through shit because we gotta pay these bills, feed these children, and keep one foot in front of the other. We’re only fooling ourselves into putting off the inevitable breakdown that’s coming. This Memento Mori reminds me to fully live the rest of my life as I wind down to the eternal nap and in doing that, I have to acknowledge all of the life that I’m refusing to process. With that being said, I’m going to be open to more moments of tears, talking about how I feel, and asking (fuck that, begging) the universe to align me with people who don’t act like they’re allergic to feeling and having all the emotions.

I also watched Indiana Jones: Dial of Destiny and cried at the end. My dad loved Indiana Jones but also when Indy’s goddaughter “selfishly” told him he couldn’t stay in 215 B.C. before punching him in the jaw? Seeing her moment of vulnerability that was saying Indy you can’t stay here because I NEED YOU, is what made me cry. Indy was being a crotchety old fuck, acting like he didn’t need or care about anyone but he just needed a reminder that HE was cared about too.

And that’s also what I need in December… to be FULLY reminded (see: SHOW ME) by more people that I’m cared about because I don’t feel it most days… and it could just be these stupid as fuck perimenopausal hormones but I got a good 40-50 years left in me. I can afford to keep saying I want to be cared about until the very end.

It’s true that we cannot solve our problems with the same tools that created them so I have to clean out my emotional tool box. All of the sensitive parts of me might feel like foil on fillings but eventually those silver bitches get replaced with something healthier and more sustainable. Eventually, I won’t cringe at all of the things that once triggered me because I’ll learn how to manage all the emotions I steered clear of for so long. So December, give me your best shot at making me feel.