Breh!! Sister Breh!! Hiiiiiiiiiiii.
I’m excited writing this week’s blog. I’m happy, I’m sleepy, I want chicken, I have pop-tarts, but overall, I feel good. Nahhhh, I won no lottery. I gained no worldly possessions this week…although I’m open to any and all donations. #iKiddALittle #LaughALittle
Do you know what it’s like to be consumed by your own desires? Have you any idea what it feels like to be captive and enslaved by the taintedness of your own heart…wanting things you can’t have, and loving the people that won’t love you back? It’s hell being stuck in a vicious cycle of attraction, obsession, and heart attacks. A senseless romance is what I call it. What do you do when being a victim has left you bearing chips on your shoulder, but life has made you a terror to the hearts of others? You bare guilt, regret, and hopes of wishing the right one came back and would love you again.
As a kid, I hated cleaning, but I loved cleanliness. I hated the work it took to gain order, but felt my best in an organized environment. I remember stacking all of my books up, trying to carry them, and I ended up injuring my face as they came tumbling down on me. I didn’t want the responsibility of taking what I could handle. That would have seemingly taken too long, so I just grabbed them all to save time. As a result of that…I cut my face under my right eye. It could have been avoided, and it could have been done a different way. But trying to beat time came with a price. Not only was I now scarred, but now took longer to do what I initially was doing because now I had to collect everything again.
That’s what pressure looks like. Pressure isn’t like pain. But it can lead to it. Pressure is intense enough that it can’t be ignored, it’s a constant reminder of existence. If you’re anything like me, most of the issues aren’t pain worthy…it’s pressure. And at times…pressure can feel like a heart attack. We carry experiences, emotions, and chips daily. It’s easy not to examine what’s on our backs and in our hearts. We often just continue going until the weight we carry crumble on us. Emotions come spewing out that we thought were long gone. Names, memories, feelings manifest…and all the while the only thing you can do is cry. Well not me…me…I just eat pop-tarts and watch a Meryl Streep moving. If you’re judging me…you’re judging your moms first.
I know pressure. I’m a millennial black man trying to be dope…I tend to carry things…emotions…and people especially way longer than I should. People that have left my presence a long time ago, yet still occupy in some regard space in my heart. But things are changing. I had a conversation with someone I deeply loved one day, but couldn’t be with anymore. After long nights of being sleepless and frustration, days of being semi-ignored, the lack of communication, the lack of love, the thoughts, hopes, and desires of one day winning bae back ….yo…I realized in the middle of a conversation. It had NOTHING to do with “us” and wasn’t thinking about it actually. In a basic conversation, I realized…I don’t care anymore. Not in a bad way…just…well, all of that extra stuff wasn’t my weight to carry anymore.
I think I’m mastering what I couldn’t grasp as a kid. I’m learning to deal with things…one at a time. One book, two books, three books, four… There’s no need to deal with it all at once. I’m in no rush for time…no more need for injuries and heart issues. Nahhh…I’m dealing with life and its issues, and I’m taking my time to free myself.
The pressure…it isn’t there anymore. It’s getting easier to breathe. I’m seeing clearly…I’m loving better…and my focus is pretty legit.
Freedom feels good.