“Greatness is made after midnight, in the quietness of your spirit, heart, and soul.” – Les Brown
I guess that’s why I’ve become such an insomniac?
The irony is that as I lay here and watch time pass all I can think about are the things that are not so great. The things that are silently crumbling around me as I scream that blood-curdling scream that no one seems to hear, every night. I work, all day, with a smile on my face, doing what I love, yes, all with a smile on my face. A smile that is so big that it hurts to pull the corner of my lips together, almost as if I’m not supposed to be pulling them from their rightful place- my ears. A smile that says so much, but so misinterpreted. Help me dammit, I need to unpack this shit. I’m trying to work on me; can't you see it? I’m the strong Nubian Queen, Giver of Life, through me a change will come, oh, it’s coming; I know you see it; I mean look at me; I embody change.
“She’s the best, where’d you find her?” -- In the mud, “You can’t let her go, she’s amazing”; -- well let me tell you about this one. I have to go before I get comfortable. Not comfortable in the sense of lacking ambition, never that. I just have to venture off ever so often. I have this calling, I hear it, and it wouldn’t be fair, shit, I think it’ll be detrimental to my mental health to have to stay still or become comfortable.
Comfortability, a dressed-up, more college-educated, the corporate job having, big house living, fast car driving, version of stagnant. You know, you think you’ve made it because the storm died down and the skies are blue and shit is just amazing right now, so you’re chilling. No concerns on progression, because you got it, not thinking outside of the box anymore because you built that shit, no renovations or remodeling necessary -- you’re coasting…in stagnant waters; you’re comfortable.
That’s not me, I’m working hard and diligently on me, so there’s no room for comfortability. I have to feed and sustain that person who gives no light, nor energy to the issues that were or are currently trying to deter me from getting to my purpose, my goals. I want adversities to cower when I come around. People will be asking themselves, “do you know what she’s been through?” The answer will be, yes, always yes, but what’s important is that none of that shit is strapped to my back and I know who the fuck I am.
I don’t think anyone has ever really taken a good look at me, I mean they look at me because I’m a ‘Nubian Queen’ that embodies change and all that but, no one has ever really seen me. They see an ambitious woman, a loving woman, caring woman, a driven woman, a giving woman as they watch me from the distance in all of my sovereignty -- an accomplished woman where behind her is a bent woman, a beaten once defeated woman, a muddy woman.
Picture this, you buy your kid a blanket for comfort. Upon purchase, this blanket was flawless, seams were perfectly aligned marching one after the other not one crooked stitch, gaps were evenly spaced, I mean just picture perfection in its glory! So, you give this to your kid, in your head, he’s going to cherish this thing because well, you would, it’s perfect and you’d like to keep it that way, right? But remember, you’re giving this gift to someone who might not see it the way you do, the value for them isn’t the same as yours. What happens now? Well, your kid uses that blanket for its purpose of comfort, it wipes tears, snot, catches drool, get dragged around wherever he goes, become the roof of a homemade fort, the four corners of a homemade tent to hang with the gang, the mop for accidental spills, gets left in the parks’ sandbox, gets stolen at daycare a time or two. Then it gets washed, re-washed, bleached a little and then hung out to dry under the beautiful sunny skies. The best until you forgot the take it in before the rain came down, no biggie, a little rain won’t hurt, the forecast for shows sunshine for tomorrow, it’ll dry up then, it’s all good.
Now it’s back to trenches at the unlucky end of a tug-a-war game between your kid and a strong-jawed German Shepard. Well, there goes those perfectly stitched, over washed, sundried seams. No worries though, just patch it up, it’ll look good as new, no one will ever know the battle that thing just went through. A little bit of Tide to get the stains out, switch it up to Downy for that nice fresh smell, hell, even Bounce to give it that “like new” look and feel, shit, did you buy this yesterday?
Truth is, from a distance it looks new or newish, but the closer you get or the closer you’re allowed, the more you see. You begin to notice the flaws. The history and traumas are then visible.
Now, do you see?
I don’t think anyone ever does or will see beyond what I project. They see what I chose to give light to, and what I chose to give light to is that strong Nubian Queen, The Giver of Life, someone who embodies and will bring forth change. The issue is that some days…most days, it’s hard to believe that shit. It’s in my head, some shit I made up really quick when I was feeling myself.
I’m not trying to hide or pretend my life’s traumas did not/ do not exist because and in fact, I deal with them every single day. I’m that blanket, life so far has me fucked up. I cry, place blames, curse the universe or whatever; but most importantly I remind myself to continue to fight. Sometimes it takes me a little longer to get up after each fight, and I don’t mean a day or two, the darkness can hold me for a very long time, and I allow it. Why? because it’s so much easier than fighting, it’s less exhausting.
What I’ve come to realize in a quick moment of actualization that lasted all of 5 seconds, is that this is real life and I’m doing it. This isn’t a rehearsal, it’s happening and if I want to uncover my purpose, my REAL purpose, I can’t bullshit and sit in a corner every day feeling sorry for myself and waiting for others to feel sorry for me and help me pick up the pieces.
No one can do me for me. I won’t reach my potential self until I accept that the purpose which I possess has been purposefully put into motion. I’ve been doing this shit solo already for so long. Once I begin to give rise to that purpose, that moment of conviction is going to be sweet.
“Greatness is made after midnight, in the quietness of your spirit, heart and soul” -- I’m working on it, it’s not quite silent where I am, yet, but through isolation, I feel a huge breakthrough coming.
I must be kind to myself because I have overcome so much.
I must continue to push myself never losing that vigor, and that need for success to manifest that change in every area that I set out to conquer.
And most importantly, I must love myself. No one on the face of this earth is going to give me the love that I want, need, yearn and deserve, NO ONE better than me!
So, I must cry at that moment allowing myself to feel the emotions that I do because they are real and they are a part of this journey to becoming a better version of me, a stronger version of me, an emotionally disciplined version of me.
I must continue to give light to that Nubian Queen that I see sometimes when I walk past the mirror, she’s not a stranger, she’s not another being; she is me; to be grammatically correct, I am her. The important figures in my life approach me with respect for her, me. Therefore, I must respect her, me, by allowing her to take off and take over in this lifetime.
I was chosen, to do the things I envision, to fulfil the goals that I have written down and to manifest that greatness that I feel burning inside of me when I subject myself to less than.
If I go, it all goes with me, and without the manifestations of my gifts, goals and visions people will suffer. Not in the sense of catastrophic outbreaks and earth-shattering epidemics, but people will suffer if I fail to share all that life has taught to me; if I fail to use my life lessons to teach others that it is okay, that what is, isn’t all there is. I have to believe that I have to acknowledge that, and I have to remind myself of that.
No matter how dark times get, just remember that.