Can you see it? The worst is over,

The monsters in my head are scared of love;

Fallen people listen up-

It’s never too late to change your luck…’ Diplo, “Revolution

I lay in my bed this morning at 7am. Through my blinds I can see it’s going to be a clear day. I should get up. I could get an early start on my Saturday cleaning. I could go for a run. I could log in to WordPress and try to get out of the writers block that I was struggling with. I had a number of positive, productive options in that moment. But I didn’t take advantage of any of them. I was engulfed in a fog that started in April and hadn’t quite dissipated yet. One negative thought led to another; the negative thoughts led to self-pity; the self-pity then led to self-loathing for being stuck in the fog. I wasted a good three hours in bed this way-something that was happening with frequency. And it hit me. The time spent commiserating on all the things that made me unhappy was an abominable waste. I was seducing myself with my own misery. In not focusing on the deeds that brought joy yo my life and harping on what I felt was missing I was making things worse.

I got out of bed, threw on a sports bra, t-shirt and warm-up pants. I grabbed a pair of Reebok’s from my closet, pulled my thick dreads into a ponytail and hit the track. I thought of my age. I am 33 years old. My Mama passed away at 46. When my Mama died I let go of my assumption that I would live to old age. I wanted to but knew that death is not always predictable. For all I knew I could have thirteen more years or less. Aside from my wonderful daughter, what would I leave behind?

I rounded the track again. My legs were starting to tingle but Icontinued my internal dialogue. If I passed away young like my Mama could I honestly say I fulfilled what I already know my purpose to be? Could I say that I gave everything I had in the pursuit of all of my dreams? I had to be honest with myself: the answer was no. I was fully aware that my gift in this life is writing and reaching people through my words. At various times though I have lost sight of that. I’ve put it off. But I reflect on all of the false starts of my Mama’s sewing business. I remember that right when it was all finally coming together she was snatched away.

At this point in my run I’m sweating. My calves have started to burn. But something within me says do two more laps at least you GOT this! I do three more and stagger home. And just as surely as the force in me pushed me to run further another force compels me to emerge from the fog. My self-inflicted stagnation had to end. I have too much to do, too much unrealized potential to fulfill. There were blogs to be written, essays to be submitted for publication and blog promotion to be done.  I was gone for a minute and it was hard to get back. But I brushed the dirt off my shoulders and did it anyway. As the proverb says: A wise man stumbles seven times but rises eight. The only thing I can do is focus on the future and march onward. I’ve got this.


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A native Seattleite and East Coast transplant, I have been interested in politics, religion, and race from the day I saw “The Autobiography of Malcolm X” on the bookshelf belonging to my BFF’s mom back in 1991. While my zealotry has thankfully diminished with maturity, I remain the deep thinking, passionate, and humble woman I have always been.

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