I wanted to return not with a bang…but a whimper.
I’ve been very calloused with myself lately. Harboring a lot of tensions, stress, and somehow grief. No one has passed away, well except a part of me. I tried to kill off a piece of me that I constantly am reminded that I cannot live without. Tonight was my first shadow session addressing not just childhood trauma and past workings…but my incessant need to hide when emotional. Today I sat with it. Then allowed myself to be affirmed. Then I wrote, well typed. I am going to be doing a lot of work moving forward. But I somehow feel more ready. I’d like to start with sharing my thoughts I pondered today. Not for validation, or anything log that nature. I’ve searched for that long enough, it’s time to give it to myself. No, I’d like to share so that just in case someone else feels this way. Maybe someone else is struggling with these realizations. Hopefully, there are those who can also offer GENUINE insight.
Surrender
I have been holding this anger
An anger I didn’t know plagued me until the moment I felt moved to write this.
I’ve been running
Running away from things I didn’t realize were begging to be recognized, accepted.
Everyone else can see it
Well those who look deep enough or hold compassion in an endless supply.
People who are also, in a way, like me
I don’t mean submission either, but I’ll get back to that.
See, there is a vulnerability inside my very being that I always hide. I purposely take up more space, am louder, more robust with my expressions and movement. The stereotypical black woman.
But I wasn’t always her. The true essence of my being was like a more whimsical darkly romantic version of tinker bell.
Oh I really truly thought myself to be a fairy. And I fear I’ve killed her off from lack of attention.
Her light sputtering, silently pleading to be let out, to be admired….to be loved.
I thought she wasn’t good enough, too soft, too feminine.
As if I wasn’t allowed to be those things.
I convinced myself that since I am a 5’9 dark-skinned black woman I should “play my role”.
I’ve come to realize that that has only served to make me miserable.
Which brings me full circle.
I surrender.
I am allowing myself to truly step into my “soft-girl” era or whatever. And not just saying as a hashtag.
Surrendering to my emotions
Surrendering to my whimsy
Surrendering to my femininity
Surrendering back into submission.
I forgot that it wasn’t a role I could cast aside.
There’s a creator I follow, and I feel it fate in a way to have crossed his platform. He reintroduces me into the community again and reminded me my hunger for it. Why that hunger burns so hot and runs so deep for me.
Submission is me, not just how I react, not just accepting a role, being obedient to orders or rituals. But an integral part of how I process myself and the world around me. And for a while I thought having an alter that was more Dominant meant I had to learn how to tune out the parts of me that loves to surrender. A whole 2/3 of me. I will now be in a period of life that allows myself to allow myself to capitulate.
Truly relinquish the shackles of this faced I’ve been holding over myself and allow myself to feel, think, process, and eventually accept my reality and the things in it on the same profound level I had before.