Something Nubian

Lately, I have been allowing the right energies to flow. All my life it has been the hardest thing to do and then shit happens and I wonder why.

I always thank those that inspire me for responding to the Divine that gifted them with thought and it inspires. It is not easy to inspire someone like me because I don’t follow the masses. I may do a thing later but it is definitely after careful consideration. Sometimes it is met with regrets but most times trends are met with spending money to look and do what the others are doing; no thank you.

However, I am grateful to my small wins, publishing a new gratitude journal that focuses on helping women deal with [their] chronic pain. While it may not be the best thing to claim, it is a diagnosis that comes with a revolving door. Being diagnosed with something and then told it will never go away is like dealing with loss. You lose yourself, and if not careful you watch yourself everyday deteriorate, at times wishing for death instead.

But The Black Woman’s Journal to Minding Her Own Chronic Pain has a different intention, what if you lived and not died? You owe it to yourself to discover what’s left of you!

Once I was diagnosed, I went hard into discovering what I could do to make my situation less painful and stressful. I studied and learned about foods and herbs that decreased inflammation. I combated the drugs that were prescribed and demanded what works for my issues. And I lost a little bit of weight.

And then one disaster after another would ensue; I left my children’s father – with everything I owned; I moved several times, ended another relationship (even after I thought I was healed), I lost a baby and a job, then had a son (finally) but he was born premature, and then hurricane Michael uprooted my children’s only life they knew in Florida and swept us into Georgia.

It’s been 2 years and we have overcome our own levels of PTSD (don’t make me bring up COVID-19). I even had to postpone my wedding a year, but finally we tied the knot! I said all of that to say I have spent many nights trying to explain to other people why when my pain level is a 8.5 I can still laugh or smile. It’s because I want to!!

You have to want it

I want to live, for me, my children and my husband! I saw my brothers for the first time in years and it felt wonderful. They showed up to my wedding in the middle of a pandemic! What pain??

Yes, there are many days when I hurt but I have learned to do things like meditate, not medicate, when I can. Eat less potatoes instead of curling up on the couch with one. There had to be an alternative to allowing my diagnosis to define the way I allowed myself to be.

Life happens but when you survive, you must live again, fall down seven, get up ten. Say thank you to the U-N-I-verse that you made it and keep going.

There is nothing that can be done about the pain, but there is something that you can do. You can change your mindset. When a flare arises, tell it “you won’t be here long!”, “There is later on, there is tomorrow, there is thyme, ginger and lemon tea for that ass!”, “oh, I got something for you!” And then you deliver on those threats, pain doesn’t like happy. And they can co-exist but you must find your median with it.

I spent so much time worrying about how young I was and those my age were doing better even in their chronic states and I learned that what was for them was for them , I had to learn what was for me. It was not for me to copy them but learn what got them through and own my way!

I know this may seem preachy and not very sympathetic but this day has been a ling time coming. I am here to tell you, you will be okay and you must find your reason to live mentally, physically and spiritually.

Ase? Ase! Ase.