Silent music

*A work in progress. Also a working title.

I thought our music would never die

We were a song neither of us knew

the harmony to but

Being caught up in the moments

Moments turn movements

Movements we created with our bodies

To our own beat, in sync

We flowed

To our own tunes

While the world, our worlds

Seem to crash down all around us

It didn’t matter

Our music lived

and neither of us knew

Well I knew, what it was

Because I fell in love with you…

– Viola Constance

The Truth Isn’t For Everyone

I think one of the biggest life lessons I’ve learned [so far] this year is that the truth isn’t for everyone. Everyone can’t handle the truth. Everyone doesn’t want to face their truth, whatever that may be. I try to be as honest, as truthful and up-front as I can possibly can. Not in regards to solely my own feelings and opinions, but that of others as well. I’ve found that just because someone says they want honesty doesn’t mean honesty 24/7 and in every realm. I’ve noticed that words and actions do not always match up. My eyes have been opened to see that just because the truth is my truth, honesty is my route and having others deliver it to me “straight with no chaser,” doesn’t mean that is how everyone else, even those I love and care about wish to receive information. It’s been said that you don’t have to look far for the truth if you really want it and I can attest to that. I have to realize that I cannot help or shelter everyone I love.

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Poetry Post 7: Unity Poem 2

I see the way you look at me
the way you stare
those eyes full of hate
your judgmental glares.

I’m not a size two

nor do I care about the coil or kink of my hair

I won’t apologize for my self-love

that you can’t bare

a beautiful woman of color

nothing can compare.
I hear your disapproving whispers
your pointing fingers

because of the beauty you fail to see

And a love you don’t understand
Mad cus we interracial
I call to embrace reappraisal

with it my magnificence glows

You try your hardest to make my highs

so low, your mindset is so skin deep
it makes me cynical, makes me livid, makes me weep!

 

Your insults will no longer bring us down

We will come together black & brown

Strength and courage to uplift us

You can continue to fuss

We are minorities no longer

We’re making a comeback

We coming back stronger

Brown & black

The underdogs no more

Higher and higher together we soar

Like Maya Angelou we will rise

To your hate we say our goodbyes

You can no longer enslave us our minds are free

Today we let go of your negative thoughts towards we.

 

By: Stephanie Cofield & Viola Constance

Disappointment

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This is in opposition of my last post. I get both sides of it, I guess. I came across this meme on some social media site in October. It really hit home around then, because I was expecting a LOT from so many different people and it seemed they were failing me left and right. Seeing this I realized I was placing this unspoken pressure on them. Not only did I want them to meet an expectation I had, but I’d never even mentioned it to them. In each situation it wasn’t a materialistic expectancy. I’ve figured out all of my expectations with others are emotional or relationship based. And the reasons I may just expect it and not speak about it is because I struggle with being vulnerable and I’m ALWAYS there for others emotionally without request. Shouldn’t I be given the same?

‘Well, yes, yes you should be given the same Viola’ is exactly what I’d been telling myself. With that mindset I endured loads of disappointment that I carried with me into any conversation or situation I’d had with that individual I’d placed expectancy on. I had to get over thinking I was obligated to receive the same. I realized what I already knew, everyone isn’t programmed the same, and I’m placing myself in this realm of disappointment. Everyone isn’t willing to reciprocate what’s given to them in a positive manner. And that’s okay. I can’t fault anyone for that. I shouldn’t fault myself for that either.

– Viola Constance

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.

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Attempting to Accept Aging Parents (Originally Posted on 2blkgrls blog)

I’ve been back living at home with my mother and step-father for a little over a year now and I’m noticing things about them that I am sure has happened while I was away. It makes me laugh when I have to constantly try to explain different technologies to them. My mom is now a pro at turning on laptops, getting on the Internet and logging into her email account, but she still can’t figure out how to copy and paste or upload a document. My step-dad always has a cooler phone than I do, but aside from placing calls and text messages, he’s clueless on how to save contacts and change ringer profiles. Typical “old people” stuff.

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