Usually I stay away from phobias. Not because I have a phobia of phobias, but because labels bother me. I have actually only looked up a few phobias years ago due to someone either labeling me or bringing it up in conversation and I was too embarrassed to asked for the meaning. In the short-lived times I’ve researched phobias I found that there are a shit ton of phobias and I refused to live life thinking about all of the possible fears that others have (I mean these phobia words come from somewhere right). Glossophobia is the only phobia I can relate thought I related to until recently.
Personal
Encourage, Support, Uplift
Originally posted in March 2015 on 2blkgrl.com
Why are we not doing these things daily within our communities?
This has been something I wondered about for years. I’ve witnessed every other racial community do it in all aspects from career choices to living situations and more; from white folk to Mexican people. Now, I’m not saying we in the Black African American community do not do it, but I honestly wish we did it noticeably more. Not for show, not for others, but for ourselves. I’m talking about encouraging, supporting, and uplifting one another in all [positive] things we do. Not after we have made strides and accomplished things. Not when we are in a rough patch and it just seems nice to do.
Father’s Day: A Day for FATHERS
Oh Father’s Day…
I’ve never been big on this day. Considering the fact that my father rarely reared his head into the role of being a father. By definition a father is a male parent. Simple enough, just as the act of becoming a father is. So he’s got that part, I guess. By my definition a father is a MAN who takes care of his child(ren); providing love, support, time and knowledge as well as monetary and materialist things. This post isn’t to discuss the short comings of my father, but to uplift all of the men out there who go above and beyond for their child(ren) and/or children in general. I personally feel they do not get all of the credit and celebration they deserve.
Reflection: 2016 Thus Far
The year is half way over and while a part of me feels like it has just started, another part of me is like damn it’s basically 2017. After so many ups and an equal amount of downs I’ve decided to reflect on my 2016. I’ve dealt with depression, family, death, accidents, like (because love hasn’t reared) and much more. In reflecting I’ve found that in this short amount of time (this year) I’ve grown and learned so much as well.
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At the top of the year I was pulling myself out of a depressing state. In December I was in a car accident with my mom that left her car totaled and both of us scared and confused. As a parent she was worried about my health and well being. As a child I feared burying my mom. A part of me was content that we were together when it happened. I am very protective of my mother and as far back as I could remember I’ve always told my mom she couldn’t “leave” without me. We would go together. The irony of the accident was that I’d just left the hospital; was released and told that I was in “perfect health.” Negative forces were definitely displeased. I couldn’t understand how someone could not see an entire car. I couldn’t stand that I saw the car coming at us, into my side, and couldn’t yell out fast or loud enough for there to be a reaction that would’ve gotten us out of the way or the other car to stop. Obviously I blamed myself for something that was completely beyond my control.
Life Is What You Make It Pt. 1
I’m not sure exactly when it was or where I heard the saying “life is what you make it”, but that is something that has always stuck with me. Regardless of the situations I’ve been in, I’ve repeatedly thought to myself it is what I make of it. Sometime just before graduating from college I made an album on my Facebook page (and yes it is still kicking) that I titled Life Is What YOU Make it. The album basically consists of photos of, well, me. Let me be more descriptive here. The photographs range from pics of me as a toddler to college and events etc. But that isn’t what this post is about.
At the close of 2015 and the start of 2016 I decided that I would get my happy back.
I Almost Let Go | Suicide
On Being Mary Jane’s “Sparrow” episode Dr. Lisa Hudson played by Latarsha Rose commits suicide. There’s honest dialogue about mental illness and suicide within the black community. Mary Jane states that we all should “tell everyone that you love them, that you will love them no matter how ugly their truth is.”
In an interview about her character’s departure from the show, Rose said “I don’t know that everyone has the opportunity to really get vulnerable and honest when dealing with the pain. The question is, why does a person choose to do this? I think it’s different for every person, and if we’re taking about suicide, we never know why a person chooses it.” She is absolutely right.
Social Anxiety
Truth be told, it has always been something I’ve struggled with. I am unsure as to how or when it started. I am unsure exactly what sets it off either. Social phobia. It doesn’t happen in all social settings. There are times that I find myself the life of the party. There are times that I am the one that starts the conversations and pump up the volume. Then there are times that I am anxiously awaiting to be alone. There are times that I want to simply be a shadow in the background and fade away. It is a lot. It is draining. And this is the first time that I am exploring and sharing my feelings about this.
I’ve always toyed with the idea of having social anxiety, but have always dismissed it for something smaller. I’ve held on to the title of being shy. I’ve accepted that I have introverted moments (although there are some people who wouldn’t agree). I’ve accepted that when I have bursts of extroverted moments how important it is for me to rest and recover as it truly alters my productivity and mood. I thought as I aged and matured things would change, but things haven’t. I can vocalize my need to be alone, but I am always stuck trying to explain why. It sometimes comes out as annoyance or even anger. It’s tough.
viola constance 