What if my curiosity saves me?

If growing up is painful for the Southern Black girl, being aware of her displacement is the rust on the razor that threatens the throat. It is an unnecessary insult. 

- Maya Angelou | I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings

I connected to these words so deeply as girl, teen, and young woman. They lingered within me waiting for evolution in my understanding. Nearly a decade ago, searching for a way to describe myself and my experience, I titled this blog, Unnecessary Insults.

Tonight, I have more clarity about the connection and displacement. I also have more questions. I am reminded of something I read in passing earlier today. I am left with one word:

Investigate

verb

in·​ves·​ti·​gate | \ in-ˈve-stə-ˌgāt \

in​ves​ti​gat​ed; in​ves​ti​gat​ing

Definition

transitive ​verb

: to observe or study by close examination and systematic inquiry

intransitive ​verb

: to make a systematic examination

especially : to conduct an official inquiry

Perhaps I was given this curiosity in these specific set of circumstances with my worldview, history, family, strengths, and challenges to birth the desire and capacity to observe, study, examine and, hopefully, know.

Now, I know only enough to know that I know in part. Now, I am curious enough to root around and find out

...

Since I was 17 years old, I've held this week in October in a private vigil, noting the day even without trying. It's been 7 years. 7, I'm told, is a number of completion. Maybe, like the good and faithful servants, I've watched long enough. No more razor or rust. Just the wisdom gained from unnecessary insults and invaluable lessons.

It's Strange. Isn't It?

 Today I hired a sitter for the first time. 

I actually went through with it. I nearly canceled multiple times. I delayed the start time by an hour, and it took me over an hour to leave the house. Nevertheless, here I am. I walked to a cafe. I took a moment.

Still, it is strange. Isn’t it? Leaving your child with a highly recommended, but unknown human.

This feels like a test run. I’m a 20 minute walk (3 minute drive) from home. I do not have any formal plans. I am giving myself permission to tap into all resources available to me. I’m releasing a little control. 

“Miss A” is a kind human. In the time that I lingered, I cared for myself as she watched MJ. I heard and observed their interactions, and I do feel at ease. MJ is safe. He’s in his environment. He is receiving attention and care from a capable, honest, loving adult. 

Still, it is strange. Isn’t it? I call my mom.

I did it! 

She’s there? You didn’t cancel?

She is. I didn't. It’s so weird!

What? Having a stranger in your home watching your baby?

Yes! How was it for you, Mom?

Honestly, I never paid for a sitter. I had Mama, Tamika, Denise, and all of my nieces. Other than paying for daycare to work, I never had to hire a sitter for free time.

These are different times. My eldest niece and nephew aren’t even 10 years old yet. Plus, our family is over 300 miles away. 

I wanted an extended shower with loud music. (No listening for cries or, worse, thuds.) I wanted a solo outdoor walk. I wanted to sit at a coffee shop and enjoy a drink and pastry. I wanted “Kechia time.”

It’s strange. Isn’t it? How identity expansions shift everything?

Everywhere I go, even when I am alone, MJ is with me because everything I do, in some way or another, impacts him. That thought is, all at once terrifying, awe-inspiring, and humbling. As much as I want to access the woman I was pre MJ, I have changed. 

I do not buy into the propaganda that women are incomplete without children. I do think tethering -  be it to a child, spouse/partner, sibling, parent, pet, etcetera - being accountable to and responsible for a being outside of self - shifts perspectives and priorities. 

Sitting at a coffee shop, alone, on a Saturday night was once common for me. Now, it is extraordinarily ordinary. I am grateful for the sitter; the fresh air of an outdoor walk; to be outside of the home where I parent, live, and work; and the vibe of a cafe with good overhead music, service, beverages, and pastries.

Mostly, I’m grateful to get back home to a child who is still happy, safe, and okay. 

"Show Them You've Been Loved. Show Them How I Loved You."

As long as I am a possessor of breath, loving energy for you will emanate into the atmosphere. If my memory fades, my cells will remember. If my tongue ceases, my eyes will speak. My presence testifies to loving and being loved by you. Everything and everyone I touch is a recipient of that loving energy. In this way, our love is neither interrupted nor destroyed. It's an eternal echo transforming in perpetuity, confirming we've been loved. 

Tantrums

October 3, 2024 -

It's one of those nights where bedtime is a personal affront to MJ. Although still rare, these tantrums happen more frequently now. It's new. Sometimes, it is jarring. Every time it is dysregulating. For both of us. 

How much crying do I allow? How much responsiveness is too responsive? When does self-soothing venture into ignoring? Who among us appreciates being ignored? How do I navigate tantrums without ceding parental authority/leadership or jacking up my child's attachment system? 

Most of the time, I follow my instincts: providing comfort; holding the bedtime boundary; worrying about my neighbors' discomfort and side-eyes; trying to remain calm even though, like MJ, I want to cry and be comforted. Sometimes I think, "As long as he gets the recommended amount of sleep, is the when that important?"

In these moments, I'm overwhelmed and clear. My child's behavior gives me insight to an inner world that cannot be articulated in palatable-to-adults ways. Not yet. What I see, sense, feel, think, know? Right now, MJ needs rest. Instead of sleeping, he is crying. 

Right now, I need rest. Instead of sleeping, I'm sitting at my desk working on _____. (Does the what really matter?)

Earlier I made a not-shared-until-now video about needing rest and the emotional/mental impact of that. I also become cranky, emotional, less for human consumption when I'm overly tired. Children aren't inexplicable; they are relatable. Parents aren't immune; we have our versions of tantrums and stage rebellions against rest too.

There's no moral here. I wrote to self-regulate. I shared because I'm prone to inappropriate levels of self-disclosure. 

P.S.: Apparently, I recorded my audio journal without audio. I find that amusing. 4 minutes and 24 seconds of nothing but rest [the word and definitions]. The universe ain't subtle.

October 5, 2024 -

Today I rested. I feel well-rested. I feel better. 

Amor Fati

Everything I want is accessible to me. It is waiting on belief and timing to align, and it will come. The resources. The individuals and communities. The hopes, visions, and efforts. Every good thing will come to me in its due season. I will accept the abundance with gratitude understanding that I am worthy; the Universe, Fate, God are my loving friends; and nothing that is human - including goodness, wholeness, joys & successes - is alien to me. Selah. Amen. Let it be so.

"Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up."

I am thinking of Amor Fati today.

("Amor fati is a Latin phrase that means 'love of one's fate.' It's a philosophy that involves accepting and loving all experiences in life, including both good and bad, as necessary for growth.")