this is not a rebrand; this is a rebirth
i often feel like i’ve lived many lifetimes. lately, i have realized i feel this way because i’ve spent so much of this life running away from my true self so i keep having to start anew. i have spent years chasing after the dreams of the person who i felt like i was supposed to be and so little time actually catering to myself & my true desires. i feel immense regret when i think of each time i ignored the voice in my head that pleaded with me and begged me to choose myself. i always knew writing was my passion but i was so busy walking in the shadows of my parent’s dreams, i didn’t cater to my own.
the past is the past though. i can’t change anything about my journey, but i can make a decision to choose myself and put myself first moving forward.
prior to traveling to kenya and ethiopia, i struggled with completing basic tasks with my hands which included opening bottles and buttoning my pants. my mother asked me to reconsider my travels but i told her there was no sense in just staying home because i was going to feel pain regardless. i packed my two suitcases and made my way to JFK, gritting my teeth while dragging my suitcase through the airport.
i returned from my trip from ethiopia sulking that i had to pause my world travels in order to have a necessary surgery. by april 2021, my rheumatoid arthritis progressed to what my doctor labeled as a “severe” disease state. i was informed that i would have to have reconstructive surgery on both wrists and while i wouldn’t have full function of my wrists, i’d no longer be in pain.
when my sister noticed my depressed state, my sister looked at me and asked me if i was going to spend the rest of my life feeling sad for myself and i literally gathered myself that day. i spent the afternoon writing intensely. i poured my heart into my admissions essay, finally applying and getting accepted into a Screenwriting Conservatory Program with a Talent Scholarship. i was ecstatic to find out that people who committed their lives to writing thought that i had the potential to be great.
still a voice in my head started to plant seeds of anxiety and doubt in me. “you’re doing this at 24, that feels kind of late,” the voice in my head said. i now know that voice was just my anxiety taunting me. when it comes to pursuing your dreams, there is no such thing as “too late”. time is nothing but a grand illusion.
as i near the 25th year of this wild journey we call life, i find myself constantly reflecting on these questions:
am i walking in alignment or am i walking in the shadow of it?
am i happy or at the very least am i content? is being content enough for me and if not what do i need to do in order to achieve happiness?
am i learning from my past mistakes and am i actually committed to doing better? how can i be better?
am i surrounded by people who encourage my growth and love me in the way that i need to be loved?
am i meeting my own needs?
this past year was intense for me. i have experienced rock bottom many times before but this year, it felt like i was thrown into the burning heat of the earths core. some days, i couldn’t see the sky at all, completely unable to imagine a life where things would actually get better for me.
i lost a lot of friends, i cut a few family members off, i made new friends who hurt me in ways that i never knew were possible, & worst of it all, i lost myself. i couldn’t stop pitying myself. i pleaded with god for some relief; i have always said i am not his toughest soldier.
recently i’ve received many messages complimenting me on my “mindset” and even a few questions from people seeking advice from me. i’ll never gatekeep knowledge so i’m always glad to share what i know but like i’ve said before pain has been my greatest teacher. some things you only learn through experience. i just pray people’s lessons are never as hard as mine.
i remember my last night in mombasa in a haze of grief as i texted a close friend the thoughts i had about not wanting to live. after spending days on safari at maasai mara then the kenya coast, according to my followers, i just had the best week of my life but the beauty of sudden sunsets and the indian ocean wasn’t enough to curb my pain. i wasn’t suicidal but i had no desire to continue living if it meant i was going to have to deal with continuous physical AND emotional pain. it would randomly hit me that i was a writer who couldn’t actually physically write, and i would just break down. my beautiful handwriting now looked like chicken scratch when i attempted to write because my condition had advanced to the point where i could no longer hold a pen. this was a devastating realization for me because i am a woman of many journals. amidst all the tragedy and platonic heartbreak i experienced, i managed to pick myself up again. i wouldn’t have made it this far without the support of my friends. that’s the thing about good friends, they don’t leave you on the days when you see nothing but darkness, they open the shades, let the light in, and hope that you’ll turn to the sun soon.
just a week ago, some random person commented “your rebrand is not working” under one of my tweets. it’s interesting to see how people always label working on yourself and bettering yourself as a “rebrand”. what’s even more interesting is how people project different identities and narratives onto you based off your social media presence when in reality people only know what you tell them, and even then, they don’t know shit. but to be candid, the comment made me uncomfortable but i know that i don’t have to prove myself to anyone especially not to hateful people on the internet. besides, this is not a rebrand, this is a rebirth.
prior to sharing my tweets about my healing journey, the only space i talked about healing was on my blog. for years people have told me that my writing seems different from me. can you imagine how frustrating it is to be separated from the very thing that shows you at your rawest? every time i share my writing, i share a piece of my soul. i’ve learned to ignore those comments because who am i to prove myself to people who refuse to see me for all i am? i am a multifaceted women, my interests extend past what you could ever perceive.
often it takes a dramatic life event to see how much we matter to people. after my surgery, i became aware of how little the people i cared about cared about me. i posted a picture of my ginormous cast on my close friends story and only two of my “friends” reached out to check in on me. after that, i shared i was disappointed that no one checked in on me. i accepted the harsh truth that people could be good friends to others but not to me. i simply wasn’t a priority in their lives and it just took me too long to realize. i’m more vigilant now. i know my place in people’s lives & i’ll move accordingly. since my surgery in september, i haven’t seen anyone aside from my family and my doctors. i’ve retreated in deep isolation & i’ve sat with my sadness & anger. i’ve been processing, i’ve been reflecting, and i’ve been learning. i know that when i emerge out of my solitude, it will be with more discernment.
the thing about adulthood is that no one prepares you for the constant loss you experience- the constant loss of friends, lovers, and identity. how every year just seems to get harder even though you’re getting wiser. nothing makes sense at all but you’re somehow supposed to make sense of it all and keep it pushing. one of the biggest lies i’ve ever heard is that “things get better,” because time and reality have shown me that things can get worse especially as you grow wiser and more aware. however this isn’t going to dissuade me from embarking on a journey to happiness and true fulfillment. for as many dark days i’ve had, i know that there are a hundred happy days ahead. i’ll never promote false positivity but i find something to be grateful for everyday and i challenge you to do the same. this life can be hard and depressing but it can also be an adventure. a lot of people broke my heart this year but that’s not going to stop me from laughing loud, showing love, and embracing joy when it finds me.