Tag Archives: therapy

This is Me

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Truth.

We each have our own ideas and perspectives on what is true. This is based on what we learn, see, and experience through our lives. Truth is an idea that is deceptively simple and overwhelmingly complicated all at the same time.

This morning, Goddess encouraged me to explore my truth. And I must admit, I am struggling with this directive.

Who am I, truthfully?

What do I honestly want for my life?

Am I brave enough to live my truth unapologetically?

To answer these questions, I’ll explore my personal values. I feel the best way to articulate who I am is to thoroughly outline my fundamental truths, the basic beliefs that shape how I move through the world.

So welcome to the This is Me series! In this collection of posts, I’ll examine my core values using Brené Brown’s Dare to Lead list.

First, I’ll share the 8 core values I’ve chosen. Then we’ll dig into each one in detail. Each post will focus on a single value and why it is so important to me. My goal is to deepen my understanding of myself and stand firmly and proudly in who I am.

I’m so excited to begin this journey toward self-acceptance, and I encourage you to come along for the ride! May we all embrace our truth, accept who we are, and move forward more confidently in life.

Tangled Up in Me

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Where can you reduce clutter in your life?

Since I was a child, I’ve always had a lot of “stuff.” School papers, books, knickknacks, stuffed animals—if I received it, I kept it. To this day, my mother expresses amazement at the system of organized chaos I maintained. Yes, my room was a mess, but that mess was cataloged (and if you messed with my mess I would definitely notice).

As an adult, I’m still inclined to keep things but to a significantly smaller extent. These days I hang onto sentimental stuff: cards, photos, ticket stubs, items that are typically smaller and easier to store. I actually competed a project last month to reorganized all my mementos; they are now separated by phase of life, tucked away in labeled bins for easy reference in the future. (How very Virgo of me, spending my hard earned vacation time on home organization projects haha.)

Nowadays, the mental clutter requires more attention than the physical. I struggle so hard with letting memories go…especially when they hurt. The rejections, the embarrassments, the dismissals, the failures, the missed opportunities—all of them live rent-free in my brain and they love making their presence known.

I understand our brains do lots of wild stuff because of evolution; they are hard wired to protect us from danger and memory is part of that. But what I don’t understand is why I can’t purge some of this mental clutter. Why I hold onto it, pull it off the shelf, and examine it so often (even when I’d rather be thinking about pretty much anything else.)

It reminds me of a song:

I’m real good at forgiving

But my heart can’t forget

The ache before the mend

Kelly Clarkson, skip this part

I’m pretty good at moving on, but for some reason my brain just refuses to let go of all the hurt.

Maybe this is all for some higher purpose I haven’t realized yet. Or maybe it’s my depression and anxiety playing tricks on me (as they are known to do). Either way, I’d love to clear out some of these old hurts and make room for more positive thoughts.

Here’s to the Night

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If you didn’t need sleep, what would you do with all the extra time?

I’ve always been an “early to bed, early to rise” kind of gal. My childhood best friend and I were reminiscing the other day and she laughed while recalling how even at noisy slumber parties I would take myself to bed whenever I got tired enough. What can I say? I need my beauty rest, and lots of it.

But what if sleep wasn’t a necessity? What would I do if I had the full 24 hours in my day?

Short answer: EVERYTHING.

I would go to clubs and parties in the wee hours of the night, just to see what all the fuss is about. (I’ve long been skeptical that those places are actually fun after midnight.)

I would clean my house within an inch of its life and finally, finally be caught up on laundry.

I would stay up late talking with my husband, growing closer together as we watched the sun rise.

I would finish all the books I’ve been trying to read and get my library hold list down to 0.

I would have more sessions with my therapist.

I would exercise more. (The pandemic taught me that I will work out if I have literally nothing else to do.)

I would volunteer in my community.

I would spend more time with my family and friends. (Traveling wouldn’t be as big of a hassle if I could do it while the rest of the world is sleeping.)

I would blog more and finally start that memoir I’ve been itching to write.

And, if I’m really being honest with myself, I would probably long for the “beauty rest” I no longer needed.

I would reminisce about the 8-10 hours I used to sleep every day.

I would recall how good it felt to retire at the end of a long day, to quietly slip into that still pool of slumber.

I would achingly remember what it felt like to dream.

Think Twice

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Today my affirmation was, “I will make good choices today.” Not easy choices. Or convenient ones. Good choices.

And it was HARD.

Lately I’ve come to admit that the way I moved through life in the past doesn’t serve me as much anymore. The perfectionism, the self doubt, the use of fear and criticism as motivators—they helped me survive. They were my rock and slingshot, meager tools for slaying giants but effective nonetheless. For a very long time, they felt like the only tools I had.

But now, I choose differently.

I choose to let go of what I can’t change. I choose to believe in myself. I choose to stop punishing for being human. I choose to treat my body with kindness. I choose to speak to myself gently and with encouragement.

I owe it to the version of myself who thought there was no other way.

This Time

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Oh. My. Goodness. …Am I actually getting my shit together?!?

Short answer: Yes. (FINALLY.)

I know it’s been awhile but I’ve decided to give this blogging thing a try. Again. For the umpteenth time. After OVER A YEAR of crickets on the blog.

It isn’t like I haven’t thought about it, though. I’ve often tried to drum up the inspiration, the energy to write. But it didn’t feel right until now.

You know, one of the reasons I’ve avoided writing here is because this blog chronicles some of the lowest points of my life. Reading the entries reminds me of how broken, how lost and afraid I was. The wounds may have healed a bit over time, but the memories of their infliction never faded.

My goal now is to rediscover my love of writing, explore all the things I’m learning about myself on my journey through therapy, and HEAL. (Not necessarily in that order.)

If I’m lucky, maybe I’ll help some of y’all who are healing too.

Life is full of twists and turns, a road ever winding with deep curves ahead. Some times we find ourselves at dead ends. Other times the path is leisurely, not a pothole or speed bump in sight. The only thing we know for sure is that there is no GPS and we can’t refill our tanks when our fuel finally runs out.

So let’s take this journey.

Let’s hop into the driver’s seat of our lives.

Spark the ignition of hope.

Check the rear view mirror to remember where we came from.

Turn toward the path of growth, peace, joy.

…and hit the gas.

(Lay Your Head On My) Pillow

Posted in Home Life, Normal People Things, She. Me. Her., Work Life by

“…and just relax, relax, relax…”

I know I can’t be the only one who remembers that groove from Tony! Toni! Toné!. Yes, that song came out when I was, like, 7. No, I didn’t have a clue what they were talking about (there are some pretty adult themes in those lyrics). But hey–I’m a sucker for a good R&B tune! (And if you’ve never heard this song, please give it a listen–it’s awesome.)

You’ve probably figured out I use songs as the titles for my blog posts. Sometimes the songs get stuck in my head for days–they won’t leave until I get my thoughts out. Most times, the songs remind me of a particular feeling…a moment…a memory. Today’s song actually came from a conversation with my therapist.

In a session earlier this week, I shared how overwhelmed I felt–just plain stressed and anxious–with all the changes in my work schedule and obligations in my personal life. After I was done explaining everything, she asked me a question that knocked me right on my ass:

Can you be relaxed on the busiest day of your life?

Now I had to think about this for a minute, because basically my entire life I’ve assumed busy = stressed. I enjoy having things to do; I love staying busy. But I don’t like being stressed the fuck out. (My guess is most people don’t.) My therapist challenged me to relax and not get tense even when I’ve got a lot going on.

So yesterday, even with the stress of work and home, I tried to relax. Instead of worrying about every possible thing that could go wrong, I tried to focus on the present–what was happening in that moment. And the day went surprisingly well! Usually at the end of a work day, I’m dragging myself back to my car–all the stress of the day just weighs on me, so much that it feels like a physical weight.

Yesterday, I left work feeling light as air.

So many of us struggle with anxiety and stress; we weigh ourselves down with worrying and feel we’ll never be able to accomplish everything. If you feel this way, you are absolutely not alone–I’m right there with you. But I’d encourage you to ask yourself that question, “Can I be relaxed on the busiest day of my life?” Allow yourself to see things in perspective–you don’t have to be stressed or anxious just because you are busy. Handle your shit–don’t let your shit handle you.

And just relax…relax…relax.

She Will Be Loved

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When I was a child, I learned not to make mistakes.

Now, perfectionism is a pretty complex concept. By no means am I saying i fully grasped it; my four-year-old brain didn’t quite understand what it was learning. All I knew was, “If I do things just right, grown-ups will be happy.”

Unfortunately, that’s a lesson I can’t quite shake.

I always thought perfectionism was a good thing, a motivator to make me bring my best self and do my best work. But perfectionism has a cost. If I make a mistake–if I don’t get it right on the first try every time–the criticism starts, and it doesn’t let up.

My therapist and I talked about inner-child work recently. (Apparently shit that happened to you as a kid can fuck you up as an adult–surprise, surprise.) Yesterday she asked me to find a picture of me as a child and imagine the picture was real, that I was talking to my four-year-old self. How would I respond to her if she told me she felt like she wasn’t good enough?

Would I reinforce her doubts, break her heart further?

Or would I wipe her tears, pull her into my arms, and tell her she’s spectacular–just as she is?

I’ve gone with the former for most of my life, mistakenly believing shame and criticism were effective motivators. Effective in the short term? Absolutely. But the long term damage isn’t worth it.

And four-year-old me deserves the support she didn’t feel she had.

Vulnerability

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The world is not a safe place for vulnerable Black girls.

A few weeks ago, my therapist told me that vulnerability is something we should work on. She said I don’t trust people.

Well, duh. I know firsthand that the world is not a safe place for vulnerable Black girls.

After our session, I tried to think of when I first learned that lesson.

Was it sixth grade, when I wrote a note to my secret crush (a white boy) and he laughed while reading it aloud to the entire class?

Was it my 13th birthday, when I planned a big party, invited everyone I knew from school, and only two people showed up?   

Was it the summer after my sophomore year in college, when the man I loved dumped me but still strung me along so he could have someone to clean his apartment and cook for him?

Was it when I was publicly shamed by a dentist for crying out in pain during a root canal?

Was it the multiple instances of racism, sexism, or the brutal combination of both known as misogynoir that I’ve experienced in my life?

Most likely.

I truly wish that I could open up and be myself with everyone. But lessons learned the hard way are ones not quickly forgotten.

This world is not a safe place for vulnerable Black girls.

Wayside

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As you can tell, this blog has gone by the wayside for…a while.

Honestly, some days it’s been a struggle to get out of bed, much less come up with something to say.

If I’m being really truthful with myself, depression had me putting myself by the wayside. But, this is a new chapter.

I’m in therapy. I’m in a good place in my career and relationships. And I’m going to do everything I can to prioritize my happiness and well-being.

Here’s to new beginnings!