Grief is like a stubborn rainstorm--it's the clouded sky that sticks around and can't make up its mind whether or not it wants to rain or pour. The consistency thereof is unpredictable too. Nevertheless, to be present in the moment and accept it, I must wade through it.
I feel like I've been grieving for an extended amount of time now.
A lot has transpired this summer, but I'll get to the point. I have to admit, I believe I've prolonged my grieving process by choosing it--by choosing to suffer by it. See, I never really lost anything, but it sure felt like it when things no longer went according to my plan or not having a say in a choice being made or even losing my grandfather I didn't really know.
Expectation.
Expectations are preconceived notions made real, well at least in my own mind.
I expected my life to simply be better once I graduated college, and believe me it is, yet those things I hoped to disappear, never truly went away. I just began to have more time to think about them or eventually do something about them.
I expected to get a job immediately because with my resume, who has all of this professional experience like me coming out the gate swinging?
I expected to spend my time the way I wanted to and I expected my pockets to accomodate the way I wanted to live--ignoring the fact that due to the pandemic so many people lost their jobs. Nothing I wanted was realistic.
I expected a lot of myself and others. Talk about reality check, but I'm grateful it came now and not later.
So lately and most recently, I've been in my James Baldwin bag.
I was kinda disappointed that I've never been introduced nor took interest in discovering him. He reminds me of me, but also reminds me of you--if that makes any sense. I've immersed myself into countless of his written and audible works that reveal his greatness. Here's a conversation he had with Nikki Giovanni in 1971.
I've watched this talk at least twice now and listened to it, I'm not sure how many times, but I got something new from it each time.
James Baldwin said in the conversation,
"You hear something, you read something and you realize that your suffering does not isolate you. Your suffering is your bridge. That many people have suffered before you, many people suffering around you and always will. And all you can do is bring hopefully a little light into that suffering. Enough light so the person who is suffering can begin to comprehend his suffering and begin to live in it and begin to change it and change the situation. We don't change anything all we can do is invest in people the moral to change it for themselves."
Accountability. Light. Generous. Sustainable. Selfless. Gratitude. Empathetic. Solace. Accepting.
These are the words that come to mind when hearing and reading the words of James Baldwin in this particular part of the conversation. It caught my ears the first time I heard it. I replayed it over and spoke it to myself to remind myself that my suffering identified as grief was not something that isolated me, but bridged me with others. I'm not the first and I'm definitely not the last, but I will grow from this.
I choose to be graceful with myself. I choose to be merciful with myself. I choose to be loving with myself. I choose to apologize and forgive myself. James Baldwin said it best,
"I can only tell you about yourself as much as I can face about myself."
Therefore, allow me to face myself. Transform and renew my mind, emotions, body, and spirit. I am not here to expect anything from you as I'm learning to not expect anything from myself. Working on continuous kindness and gentleness with myself in a sustainable way so I can later exude with others as that light as mentioned by James Baldwin. Again, please check out that conversation. You'll realize you came with more than you know.
I'm slowly, but surely understanding the importance of the bridges we all create--including my own. I am here and I am here to show up again. One post at a time. It's time for tea.
Thank you to everyone who has expressed their thoughts and prayers with me and my family at that time. It truly made a difference and I'm grateful to know that my grieving process has been respected and accepted. Time for Tea and Tea Times are back--I've missed you!
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