2022 was the most uncomfortable year of my life. No matter how hard I try to deny what I was feeling inside, my spiritual court can see behind my lies. God is in the process of doing a new thing. Call it growing pains, I call it birthing pain. I am learning to accept this uncertainty, leaning into the support of my community, with the pieces of my life lying before me. Currently I am in a space where I can breathe. The slowness of my breath is sustaining and freeing. Because like being in labor, the more you try to fight it and focus on the pain, the more intense and dangerous it can be and right now I just want to be in the right lane. On the right path, honoring my Ori. On the side of the tracks where it’s God, my ancestors and me. I can see it and I can feel it. Everything around me confirms that the birthing is going to arrive right on time. I don’t know how long this laboring process will be, but I am leaning into it and sticking through it, one step at a time.
2022 was the MOST UNCOMFORTABLE YEAR OF MY LIFE! Call it growing pains, I think of it as birthing pain. I don’t think it can be articulated. Nor can it be suitably illustrated. The degree of comfortability was negative. I tried to be positive and start the year optimistic, yet I found myself combative in every single instance. Flight or fight in overdrive, nervous system on an all time high. No matter what I tried nothing could relax me, even the LA Confidential wasn’t satisfactory. I kicked and screamed, with my daily prayer being “God why me?”
Maybe if I change positions, give myself a new environment, surround myself with familiarity, it wouldn’t be so difficult in this stage called “life’s transition.” From walking into courtrooms to sleeping on mattresses in a living room, life had done a complete 180. From being a first-generation college grad and having my first child by 21. To climbing my way up that ladder and making over six-figures, plus the rock on my finger made me second to none! To say mentally my ego was on 1,000 is an understatement. So, when I felt I lost it all, I intentionally walked around with a mean mug. Ready to pop off at anyone, like DMX and say, “mind your business lady.”
But this is how labor is…right? Happens suddenly, unexpectedly. Go through transitions of intense pain, and outsiders telling you everything is ok. But your body is doing something you’ve never seen. You’ve never felt it. Not even in my wildest dreams could I have experienced this negative level of comfortability.
My mind was disconnected, emotions haywire, physically I suffered constant, unbearable pain, and spiritually…well I was feeling like Cain. Feelings of being in exile…alone and suffering from bouts of depression and suicidal thoughts. Yet I had an entire support system behind, in front and surrounding me. Alone in a community. From my sorority sisters to my closest family members, I hid behind my pain. I smiled during the day and cried at night. Rocked myself to sleep like a baby, waiting for someone to rescue me. No amount of holding hands and none of the drugs or the alcohol could numb this. I really tried it all. But the thing is no one was coming to save me…from me.