Home » Tag Archives: Blood

Tag Archives: Blood

recess

Last year this title came to me because I’d forgotten the week before to do my blog post. I wrote about giving myself a break. Today I return to that thought.

Recess. To go back? As in the action of recession, to recede or make an indention in, or the suspension of a procedure. Like moving forward with something, an action or conversation, and then taking a rest from it. Oh well, language is confusing. No matter – I guess we can agree that a recess is an identifiable break. I think of it as a little notch. Yes, that seems to encompass all the possible definitions.

We need breaks. I needed that break a year ago. I have this conversation often — with friends, with H. — about how we need to step away from our devices, television, work, our mates, even our children, so that we can take a deep breath and center ourselves, so that we can hear our true selves talking. Do y’all ever wonder what your true selves are saying that you aren’t tuned in enough to hear? The idea that at least some physical pain is caused by unexpressed emotion comes to me… the tight throat, the knotted up stomach, the literal aching heart… what am I ignoring that desperately wants to come forward and make itself known to my conscious mind when I feel those symptoms?

I remember being a girl, around 12 years old, and having my Daddy come into my bedroom to talk to me. This was NOT a common occurrence, y’all. He and Mama had had one of their falling outs, probably, no, not probably, certainly over his drinking and violence. I don’t remember if we’d packed up and left and then returned home after a few days that particular time or not — we did that a lot so I don’t even know if I recall every time I shoved all of my clothes and shoes into the backseat of the car and we drove off to some friend’s house or to my grandparents’ only to return a day or two later, but I do remember how I felt as he delivered his  lines about how couples that had been together for 20 years didn’t just break up. And I remember thinking to myself that I didn’t understand why they didn’t, because obviously he and my Mama needed to do exactly that and then some. But I couldn’t say it. And every ounce of that unexpressed feeling settled in my throat because I wasn’t safe enough to let the words out. All I could do was cry.

I wonder what might have happened if I, or someone else like a responsible, clear thinking adult might’ve been able to persuade them to recess. How might things have turned out if they had been able to tune in to their true selves and honor them, and recognize their need for some space and perspective on the situation? It’s hard to think about. But I’m getting closer to letting our story out into the world and it’s on my mind a lot. I miss my Mama something fierce these days. I wish she’d had the luxury of a recess from her constant work, her constant worry, her constant battle just to exist. I wish I could’ve seen her at ease, even for just a little while. Selfishly, I wish I had a recess from being motherless sometimes. Just a minute with her would, well, I don’t know what that would do.

What I do know is that what’s missing in my life is now replaced with the desire for awareness of why the bel hevi takes up residence in my gut. What’s missing in my life is also sometimes replaced with the luxury of a minute to escape whatever is in front of me that I can’t bear to show myself to, so I can wrap my own arms around myself in, I don’t know, let’s say a restaurant bathroom when I have to leave the dinner table to keep from ruining a nice evening because I need a minute to shed a tear or two when a song comes through the speakers that conjures her memory so palpably my heart hurts. The other night it was, “Night Shift,” by The Commodores. No, most times we don’t see it coming.

We can’t face it all all the time. Sometimes we need a minute, or more. Overwhelm accomplishes nothing positive — we can only react when cornered even if it’s only by our own emotions. I think about my 12-year-old self in that bedroom, feeling cornered by my Daddy and I want to bust up in there and rescue myself. I want to tell myself that it’s okay to take a minute to locate the feeling that was coming from my true self instead of letting him have control over me. Those tears I cried came from utter helplessness. And I want to tell that same thing to him too. I wonder if someone had comforted him through his own overwhelming emotions, if someone had given him the luxury of a recess, if he might’ve taken a different path.

That got heavy. Sometimes it does. I’m not deleting it, my hour is up.

Peace and love and happy Wednesday, Y’all.

AM

lineage

I wasn’t expecting my weekly post inspiration to come from Beyoncé today. She is on the cover of the upcoming September issue of US Vogue, and the email I got this morning announcing that and featuring gorgeous photos of her gorgeous self caught my attention. I clicked. I then read the “as told to,” interview, and went back to this paragraph over and over until I wrote it down on a notepad to the right of my keyboard.

“I come from a lineage of broken male-female relationships, abuse of power, and mistrust. Only when I saw that clearly was I able to resolve those conflicts in my own relationship. Connecting to the past and knowing our history makes me both bruised and beautiful.”

Y’all know I am about to put this memoir of mine to bed. In fact, I am working on the edits all day every day right now. The timing, as it always is because there is poetry in the world and in every particle of dust, is perfect. Much, okay almost all, of the material involves my parents. The anniversary of their deaths is once again staring me in the face — this Sunday, August 12, will mark thirty-two years that they’ve been gone.

So as you can imagine, I’ve studied my lineage quite a lot. Not just the who, but the what. I want to know what made/makes me the way that I am. Why do I struggle with this thing and breeze through that one? What am I dragging into my days and relationships that I should’ve left behind long ago? Why is it so hard for me to leave any of it behind? Why can I detach at the same time? Who were these people that shaped me so and then left me here to deal with their creation alone? Why am I sometimes thankful they’re not here to muck it up further? How am I lucky to have had the upbringing that I did? How can I still love them so much my heart feels like it will burst? How do I forgive? How do I not? How did I survive it? How am I free from it? How am I bound?

I won’t ever stop digging through it I don’t think. And Beyoncé, queen that she is, helped me see why. I want to make it better. I want to make me better. I don’t think we as humans want to struggle as hard as we do. I think we’re always reaching for understanding whether we know it or not, whether we’re consciously working toward comprehension of such complicated matters as family and lineage or not. Those matters are within us, therefore it is within us to try to figure them out.

When I look at my Mama and Daddy as children and into their two beautiful, innocent faces, I shake my head and tear up at the very idea that their lives were cut so short and cut so short in such a horrendous way. My heart breaks for the children that they were and for the adults that had the same hearts they were born with, however battered they had become when they died. I see my sister in them, I see myself in them, and most of all I see my son in them, God bless him.

I dig into my lineage almost constantly for him, so that I can try my best not to pass on the horrific and instead give him all the good that I was given. I dig into my lineage almost constantly for those who love me, so that I can try my best to act right, not screw up constantly, so I can be smart and cool like my Daddy, and capable, creative, open-hearted, and willing like my Mama. I dig into my lineage almost constantly for myself, so that I can ease up a little more each day, and find some compassion for the beautiful, innocent face and heart I once had.

Happy digging and happy Monday, y’all.

Sending so much love to everyone today, and thank you, Beyonce.

AM