One Stitch At A Time

These last 18+ months have taken a mental toll on many of us. Far too often we are unable to take much needed rest because of life’s obligations. Jobs, children, aging parents, even pets have all still needed us performing at an optimal rate. But what is an optimal rate when burnout is looming around the bend? How do you protect your peace of mind and recharge yourself before spazzing out on an unsuspecting person? What can you do?

I don’t know about you but I have tried returning to my poetic place of solitude… nope. My inspiration tank was as dry as my mother’s first Thanksgiving turkey ๐Ÿฆƒ ๐Ÿคฃ. Love you, ma. That in itself was concerning to me because poetry was always my go to place of relief and release mentally. Next I tried baking. Cookies, cakes, bread and pies. Delicious ๐Ÿ˜‹ things smelling up my kitchen and swelling up my waistline ๐Ÿ˜ญ. No good. I tried forcing myself to interact with others outside. I attended some vending events, showed support for some of my IG friends in real time but it just didn’t do it. I still felt blah.

Ok, I thought to myself. Music is always a sure fire mood lifter. I scrolled through Pandora. Nope. YouTube Music. Nope. I even dug out my box of old cds from the late 90s-early 2000s. Not a happy toe tap to be found.

I couldn’t kick the funk I was in and it was seriously affecting my interactions with everyone around me. I was always irritable and cranky (and no, it was not that time of the month) and was ready to snap on anyone at a moments notice. Work pressures didn’t help. At that point I did 2 things. I called a friend for a referral to a therapist and I picked up my knitting needles.

I am so glad I did. My therapist is down to earth and real. She listens. We meet weekly through video chat on Duo and I couldn’t be happier with my choice. And since I’ve picked my needles back up I have been knitting consistently for the last 2 months. Today I decided to bring my current wip (work in progress) to work with me, to work on during down time. My commute was crazier than normal this morning (3 road construction slow downs and 2 road closures with a clogged detour) so instead of sitting in traffic frustrated as normal, I picked up my project and started knitting at every stop light and slow down. ๐Ÿค— I wish I had thought about doing this sooner. Now I look for the red lights so I can knit more stitches and my irritability is fading one stitch at a time.

Vanilla Sock Pattern by The Crazy Sock Lady

Knitting may not be for you, but then again it might. You won’t know until you try. My sure fire recommendation is to try something new to you. If you like it, go for it. If all else fails reach out to a professional for help. It’s confidential and that may be just what you need to release what’s on your mind. At the end of the day be good to you because today is yesterday’s tomorrow…

Is It Justice?

Many are excited because the verdict is in… GUILTY! I would like to believe justice has been served but my experience as a black woman in America has taught me different. When I saw the images of Derek Chauvin’s face during the reading of the verdict, I burst out laughing. Not because of his demise (albeit self-inflicted) but because of the pure shock on his face that he is being held accountable for his decision to murder a man in cold blood.

His expression is purely American Arrogance. Sounds like a cologne sold at Macy’s with the snobby perfume lady who scoffs at anyone who approaches her area with brown toned skin. That expression says, “What? How dare you correct ME?! I’m white! I DO the correcting, not the other way around.”

The memes will be in full swing by tomorrow morning but the scary truth is, even with the murder filmed on tape, had it not been for the major upheaval of protests, riots, and boycotts over the last year (and numerous other cops and civilians murdering black people) Derek Chauvin would have gotten off like soo many other cops. Rodney King anyone? I was in middle school when the gang of L.A. cops snatched him off of his motorcycle and beat him within an inch of his life. I’ll never forget following that story for social studies homework. Every one of those cops walked away scott free.

I find it funny how the police system (which was sown and harvested with the soil of hatred, violence, abuse, and murder) was started by a group of people who committed savagery across the planet from country to country.

But then, in that context, their fear makes sense. If I kidnapped, beat, raped, enslaved, and murdered massive amounts of people while teaching others to behave as hateful and violently as myself, I would be deathly afraid of retribution. Continuous oppression to stave off the idea of retribution would be my only recourse because to apologize and correct the issue would mean I would have to openly admit to being wrong AND I would have to make reparations for the long-term damages I caused.

So, instead of dismantaling the imbalanced and unjust justice system I’ve created and rigged to benefit those who only look like me, I’ll throw a little snippet of something that can pass for humanity… this time.

America, you have the potential to be soo much better. I am done dating potential. As my late grandmother used to say, “Shit or get off the pot.” America your time is up. Healing can only begin when you stop the damage being done and correct the cancerous mistakes from your past.

Compassion is Free, Retribution is Not…

Prayers for safety go out to everyone holding on in Texas, my heart is with you. It is appalling that government officials would allow citizens to freeze in an unexpected snow storm – that businesses are allowed to control public utilities and decide, DECIDE to shut power off in the midst of a nasty winter storm. There are too many instances where profit is put before people. Those businesses who jeopardized thousands of lives need to be shut down and the remaining power companies ought to be strictly regulated to prevent gross negligence like this from happening again. Compassion costs $0 but retribution is costly.

A sad day when humanity has become a line item on a balance sheet. An expense on a profit and loss statement. A topic to debate the worth of… Oh wait – this IS AMERICA. The country built on genocide, kidnap, rape, murder, enslavement and extortion. Humanity has been on the auction block for centuries but when the bodies are brown there’s silent acceptance. Again, compassion costs $0 but retribution is costly.

The Golden Rule is older than the King James version of the bible, but I can’t see it here in the “land of the free”. What are we “free” to do? The bulk of citizens are grossly overtaxed to make the uber-wealthy comfortable barely paying tax. Too many families working full-time jobs and still can’t afford to pay for living expenses AND food. Greed and self-service has been on the menu forever but those not at the table are told to work harder, pay their share… Those hard working Texans trying to figure out how to make it in the dark with no heat in the worst winter storm in God-knows how long, are they not working hard enough?

Compassion costs $0 while retribution is costly…

Another Solar Return

Today, I am grateful. Blessed to see another solar return and on the heels of a powerful full moon no less. A celebration of my birth, thank you mom for delivering me into the world ๐Ÿ’œ. For many years my birthday was a time of excitement, anxiety and depression all mixed together because I yearned for acknowledgement from my father that I would never receive. Friends, family and loved ones wished me well, but my attention (even when I desperately tried not to) was focused on my father’s lack of attention.

Acknowledging that feeling I harbored used to encourage anger, sadness and shame. It took many years of deep reflection (meaning I was still running from myself, lol) to recognize why I still held onto the pain. As much as I hated to admit it, it was easier to hold onto the hurt, anger and pain than it was to let it go.

That thought was my *aha!* moment. It was easier to hold on and stay stuck, than to let go and be free. I still love my father, and always will. But my father has chosen not to get to know me as a person. Not like I’d hoped. It is an opportunity lost to him – not me. I do not say this out of malice. I have finally moved beyond that. I no longer hold onto the entrapment of my perception that without his acknowledgement I cannot grow or be loved or be deemed valuable. I have already proven myself wrong on that – and gladly so!

My solar return is a celebration of my growth and my acceptance of me – as I am as well as a challenge for me to achieve who I strive to become. I am ready to conquer my next round of growth. Happy birthday to me! ๐Ÿ‘‘๐Ÿ’–

โ™’Aquarianโ™’

Happy New Year 2021!

OMG! 2020 was quite the ride for all of us. Whether that ride was fun or terrifying, we were all on it together, ride or die – no pun intended. We have lost many but in the midst of grief and, here in the U.S., political chaos we managed to continue breathing. I don’t know about you but I’m grateful for that.

I have been MIA since July 2020. I was focused on staying healthy and updating my financial house in light of the fallout of Covid-19. Many don’t believe it’s real, even with many dying and refuse to take protective measures – not only to protect themselves but to protect others. This is the major failing of America as a society because she was born of indifference to the suffering of others – unless she can profit off of it. That was the core message I understood from the outgoing administration. “The team reflects leadership…” – Remember the Titans, 2000.

2021 came in with true Aquarius-like flare. Strolling in with a great conjunction of Jupiter and Saturn on December 21st and full moon in Cancer on December 29th. All of my astrology and spiritually awakened people know what I’m talking about. Word on the street is the great conjunction ushered in the start of the Age of Aquarius. As an Aquarius I’m excited either way because I’m alive to see it. I spent a lot of time learning about myself in 2020 and healing those parts of me that I didn’t realize were still hurt. I thought writing poetry, expressing my pain through words would be all I needed to do but alas I discovered my poetry opened the door for me to explore how deep my pain goes so I can heal it. My poetry was my portal to my inner self that was hidden from plain sight. 2020 sucked, but growth only comes through adversity so I choose to see 2020 as the proctor of a mid-term exam we were unprepared for. In 2021 we can choose to do better, I know I have!

Image by Anja๐Ÿค—#helpinghands #solidarity#stays healthy๐Ÿ™ from Pixabay