Accountability

I could blame my busy work schedule, or point fingers at numerous outside factors that have remotely nothing to do with my absence from this space. I could say I'm too tired to dedicate a fleeting moment of downtime, or blame my medication for seducing me into slumber earlier than anticipated. I could blame my dog, or my workout schedule. I could also say that I just don't have the desire to create memories in this place anymore. I could say a lot of things, but the majority of them would make me a liar.

I've been restless lately. In the midst of many breakdowns these last few months, I finally realized what my problem was...

My problem was me.

Inspiration comes from the most unlikely places. From a conversation with a friend, words of wisdom from a stranger, to a solar eclipse interrupting the monotony of your work day. For me, inspiration came in the form of disappointment from an 'almost' relationship gone South. It showed up on my timeline, words posted by someone I'd never met but who knew exactly what to say to give me hope. It coaxed me out of my comfort zone, and forced me to seek out others with similar interests as mine. I went to workshops, I joined organizations, I made plans. This time, I had to be serious. I had to realize that for so long I had been selling myself short, denying my talents and doing everything but what I should have been doing all these years. This whole month has been a constant reminder of who I am destined to be, and what version of myself I had been hiding from.

Now is the time, and for once I have to hold myself accountable.

My whole life I've felt like I had a story to tell, and a purpose bigger than what I had allowed myself to envision in my mind. Stories have always been dying to be told, words taunted me in my sleep daring me to write them down. Hell, I spent countless hours writing my own name, over and over and over again. The pen in my hand, the ink up against that paper brought solace and calm to my spirit. I've always wanted to creative. I have always wanted to write.

As it seems, God has placed a hold on the chapter of my life where I become a wife and mother. Although both are still my deepest desires, I know there is a reason I haven't reached that place in my life. I genuinely believe it is because I have work to do. When I say work I don't mean my Monday through Friday lady lawyer work... I mean purpose work. Passion. Healing. Creating. Expression. Story-telling. I want to create something that will outlive me, and make an impact on many. I want to entertain and educate. I want to spread laughter and emotion. I want to write.

My friend and I had a conversation earlier today about our goals, and committing ourselves to making 5 year plans. In 5 years, as hard as it is to believe I will be 40 years old. By that time, I will be a successful published author.. I will have created a brand and will have explored various means to express my creativity. I will still be a practicing attorney, but my passions will be my first priority. I will be happy. I will be loved. I will have accomplished so many things that I always thought too far fetched to be my reality. I will be successful. But most importantly, I will have shared a tiny piece of myself with the world.

I do plan to make a more concrete five year plan, but for now I felt the need to put the wheels in motion with this written manifestation. I have to keep pushing. I have to stay motivated. I must dedicate the time. Accountability. It will happen.

Seventy-six

Seventy-six days passed, and in that time, I left this realm. I transcended into the heavens, then was catapulted deep below the layers of the Earth. First seconds, then minutes, next hours, then weeks… months, two months to be precise, and finally my eyes reopened. I was reborn. I struggled with newborn eyes to see clearly. I didn’t want to see. Seeing meant acknowledging what was real, and I didn’t want to face this new reality. I wanted the past. I craved it like an addict going through withdrawals. I just needed one hit to satisfy my desire for my old existence. I just wanted to lay in this space, deep within myself, masked by my own solitude until I was ready to exist again.

It took a lot to take those first steps. I stood, my legs wobbly with realization that I would have to take these steps alone. I stumbled, scratching my hands as I made impact with the ground. It stung, but by now my body was beginning to adjust to abrasion. The sharp pain brought me back to my senses and forced me to get back up again. I painstakingly assumed the task of propelling myself forward. Every few steps I looked back hoping to catch a glimpse of him, of something familiar. The wind teased me with whispers of him saying my name, the leaves fluttered around me seducing my nose with whiffs of his cologne. I faced forward. Looking back wasn’t helping, so I pressed on.

In the distance, I saw promise. It just seemed so far away. It still seems far away, but I continue to move forward. Not because I wanted to, but because I had to. I owed it to myself to not get stuck in the in between. It was my life-long obligation to not get trapped in this place, this gray place, this place where I was constantly hopeless, weary and unwanted. I picked up speed, my strides lengthening as my body gained momentum. The memories hurt less as I moved further away from the past. I continued to gain my strength, no longer were my steps unsure. I proceeded with confidence. There was still time left to get right with myself. There was still time. I’ve had many reincarnations, but this time, it took me seventy-six days to come back to life. This time, I finally feel alive. This time I am complete.

.........

Quite some time has passed since my last entry, seventy-six days to be exact. Life gets complicated. Some days I struggled to find the will to get out of bed, yet alone write. Other days my desire was stronger than my destruction. I yearned to be myself again. More so a better version of myself. In the midst of it all, my body became as sick as my mind had once been. Numerous doctor visits, hundreds of needles, more medication than I would like to admit, then finally I felt a degree better. I sought out other means of self-care, visits to the Ayurveda practitioner for procedures I could barely pronounce, and healing from with in. I searched for peace in the form of plane tickets. Atlanta made me feel like home, and Mexico completely shook up my soul. I focused on me. For once, I shifted my attention from a we to simply focusing on loving me. Completely.

It takes time to heal.

A break sometimes, or a moment of separation to truly see for yourself that it is time to move on from whatever is holding you back.

Acceptance of reality can be beautifully painful, but necessary for your growth. For some it takes years, for others it could be months. For me, it took seventy-six days.

7 days...

It's been exactly seven days, six hours and thirty-eight minutes since I came undone. I'd sauntered through life all the days preceding that moment... not necessarily in a zombie like state, but definitely not as a reflection of my true self. A shell. Force feeding myself with normalcy, maintaining appearances of togetherness, painted on smiles and mischievous eyes, all for the sake of my sanity. Everything done for appearances sake. A ruse. Make believe can consume you. It can tear away at the seams of your internal fabrics. Like a tear constantly growing, subtle yet seemingly. It's hard to appear together. Being together is hard.

So often people mistake my angst for being extra, comic relief to keep the conversation going. Jokes to lighten the moment and ease the internal conversations inside my head with my self. Punctuation and grammar aside, sometimes it's hard to be who you want to be, while maintaining the perception that everyone else has for what they want you to be. What they think you are. I wear many hats. A friend to many, an associate to more, a sister, a daughter, an aunt, a believer, a seeker, a lawyer, a writer, a procrastinator, a lover and sometimes less than that, sometimes more and sometimes nothing. Being pulled in so many directions can sometimes make you lose direction. I yearn for consistency. I crave control. I live for loyalty. But it gets hard. Life can be hard.

I don't know what exact moment triggered it. Maybe it was the stress and demands of work. The everyday grind, the deadlines, the numbers. Or maybe it was him, or him, or him. Him telling me that I couldn't have all of him anymore, as if I'd ever had more than a piece. Or him demanding my attention, my availability, my accessibility with nothing in return. Or him asking for absolutely nothing in return for the chance to see the real me. But that me, the one who has so long orchestrated every interaction, was too critical of that version of me. The vulnerability caused discomfort. The intensity of revealing my true self overwhelming. Fear inducing. But ultimately it was me.

Control is dangerous. Life is not meant to be controlled. Life is not some animal in captivity waiting to be told to sit, stay, roll over. Life is unpredictable. Life is ups and downs. Life is letting go and just living. Without restraint. Without the roles. Without the labels of what you think is the way things should be. Life is hard, but losing yourself is harder.

I went from routine to reckless. I couldn't think straight, I couldn't breathe. I couldn't see clearly, nor could I make sense of the simplest things. I overanalyzed. I obsessed. I screamed. I took the blame for everything. Because of course my lack of whatever is the reason the world does not revolve at my command. I overanalyzed some more and then I just broke down. There was nothing left for me to do but admit that I needed help. I needed genuine people who were willing to talk me off that ledge and mean it. I needed self care, I needed self love. I needed assurance that every wrong in the world is not my fault. I needed to admit that I truly could not pray it away, without some real work. I needed help, because life is hard. It's not supposed to be easy. It will never be perfect, but it can be manageable. It can be great. It can be free. It can be enjoyable. But life is hard. And if anyone tells you it isn't then they aren't truly living.

I Honestly Couldn't Tell You...

I honestly couldn't tell you what I have been doing these last three weeks. The majority of my time seems like a blur and the rest of the time I just remember being at work. Nonetheless, as I struggle to not fall asleep I figured I would make a good faith effort to catch up on life before another month passes me by. I left off in the middle of an Iceland recap, and to be honest I haven't done much outside of continue to play catch up for the time I was out of the office on my trip.

I'm still tired from Iceland. And yes, that was over a month ago. I am still tired. But I digress.....

I tried to be a good blogger and now my eyes are closing. That tells me that I should just make a photo heavy post and try again another day.

I'm thinking... more vitamins, healthier diet and more time outside the comforts of my bed for the month of April. I have no clue why the recovery period has taken so long, but my gosh was it worth it. Iceland was the most beautiful place I have ever been. Much like a fairy tale, and seeing the Northern Lights with my own two eyes was truly a dream come true.

In April, I will do better. I promise. And yawn.....

What Had Happened Was....

On February 23, 2017, I started writing a post about my trip to Iceland. It was around 10:00 pm, and as I started reflecting on my trip and thinking about all the excitement that was Iceland, I heard a noise. At first I wasn't certain what that noise was; then I realized it was me.... snoring loudly, nonetheless. I had fell asleep with my computer on my lap, all the lights on and my television blasting. I removed my glasses, forced myself out of bed to turn off the light, switched my television off en route back to my bed and went to sleep. Then three weeks passed, and I realized I never finished that post. I've been eyeballing the draft for weeks now, but for some reason, I'm not feeling it. Therefore, I will try again. And with that, Iceland...

I wasn't certain what to expect. I'd seen the influx of Blue Lagoon posts on Instagram, and of course heard about the Northern Lights... but Iceland. What exactly would we do in Iceland? The planning was very minimal. We booked through Fleetway Travel on a whim after seeing a deal advertised on Facebook. Weeks went by, then months and finally we started sorting through things to do once we were there. Two friends coordinated to rent a car in lieu of us paying for tours, my flight to Baltimore where we were flying out of was booked, all of our Winter gear was purchased and then finally it was time to go. Since we had more than a few hours before our flight to Reykjavik, we decided to pay a visit to the newly opened National Museum of African American History since we were in the Washington DC area.

The museum was nothing short of amazing and to be honest neither words nor photographs could do it any justice. It's overwhelming, it's breathtaking, it's pain, it's joy and it is everything that is uniquely and perfectly us. From the harsh beginning of our tale, captivity and slavery, to the quest for freedom..... The loss, the death and despair of it all, everything is encompassed within those walls. The magic quality of blackness completely takes hold of you from the minute you walk into the building until you leave and I highly recommend everyone that's able to pay a visit to the museum.

I was too busy taking everything in to take too many pictures, but the ones I captured in my mind will stay with me always. The museum is worth spending hours and hours inside of. It tells a story that one must see to truly be able to believe. I think we take for granted the depth of our struggle and how hard African-Americans had to fight to make it to where we are today.. how hard we are still fighting. But I digress. If you are in the area, go as fast as you can so you can experience it for yourself.

After enjoying lunch in the museum it was time to make haste so we could check in to our airlines in enough time.. Then finally it was on to Iceland.

The flight from Baltimore to Reykjavik was a little over 5 hours. I slept and read the majority of the way until our flight attendant alerted everyone that we were flying through the Northern Lights. After those few moments of excitement, I was fully awake and ready for our 5 in the morning landing. Definitely not the best picture through the airplane window with my phone, but in real life it was a wonderful teaser and was eerily beautiful.

The first thing I noticed once we landed was how many foreign destinations were leaving from the airport when we arrived at 5'o clock in the morning. The next thing I noticed after we breezed through customs and the duty free shops was just how truly cold it was there. There was snow piled up on the ground and by the time we were in our rental there was snow falling from the sky. For my little Houston, Texas never lived someplace where it snowed for real heart, I was in heaven. Real snow. Finally... Thankful for our fur and layers, we headed to our hotel to see if we would be able to check in early. After we were told we would have to wait until that afternoon, we grabbed a quick bite to eat and set off to see the country since we had a car and time to kill before we would actually be able to check into our room.

Our first destination was the Golden Circle, an area heavily known for tourism that was easy to navigate by car and without a tour guide. My two friends drove and navigated us there, while the rest of our squad struggled to stay awake in the backseat of our Volvo. In an effort to not insult the entire country of Iceland, I will spare the spelling of the places we went and direct you to google the Golden Circle. There, that's where we went. We went to the National Park, we saw geysers, ate, awed upon the most beautiful sight I have ever seen in my whole life, found the secret lagoon and found out that the KFC in Iceland was touched by the Gods. All before checking into our hotel that evening....

Unfortunately the cold weather kept making my phone battery die so I didn't take as many pictures that first day as I would have liked. We covered so much ground that first day that a quick nap and refresh were necessary once we checked into our hotel. We decided to venture into the city in search of food, and stumbled across a restaurant called Apotek. The menu in no way fully described the deliciousness that was our meal that first night. Literally one of the best meals I have ever had.... Literally, no exaggeration.

After we dined, we sought out entertainment. Our first stop was a place called KiKi Queer Club... It was a tad too much for us. One can only listen to so much house music before the flashing lights and jumping causes a seizure. I was ready to go. After being up almost an entire 24 hours my attitude was slowly but surely turning into shit trash. We were en route to our car, when another friend stopped in the middle of the street because she had heard "Work" playing loudly. We went to explore, and a vodka & red bull later we had sweated out our hair dancing to you guessed it, nothing but American hip-hop with the locals. It was pretty surreal being in a club full of foreigners who barely spoke English, but knew all the lyrics to N-words In Paris, and sang ALL the words to the song out loud.... ALL of THE WORDS, ALL. But the vodka made it okay, well bearable... then it was almost 4 am again and we again set out for our car.

Food trucks with donuts and Belgium waffles held us captive momentarily, but then we were back in our hotel where we giggled until we passed out. Our eyes closed probably around 5 ish and that was our first night/day/night in Iceland.

P.S. I noticed after I pushed 'Publish' none of my videos work. If you know how to make them work, let me know. Thanks! -Fal