I’m more myself now than I ever was.
When I look in the mirror. I don’t see the sad eyed-girl with low self-esteem. Or the abandonment of my mother. To have a second husband and leave us. That was her choice.
To leave her kids with their grandmother during their teenage years. (Never -mind my dead father).
As I bent down to tie my shoe. I let my mind wander back, to that girl, I used to be. On the floor of grandma’s corner house, faced down into the carpet. Hands over my face. I’m barely breathing. Tears falling out the sides.
My brother and his friends are teasing me for wearing the same winter hat. Day in, day out I wore that hat. It was starting to be really hot. I still hadn’t put a comb to my hair. Let alone, look at that hot mess sitting on my head. So I did, what I thought most 13-year-olds do when no ones looking. I stuck a wool hat on my head and kept it moving. Until those boys snatched it off.
Then all that shame, all that matted-down nappy-shame ran over me. My younger cousin walked in the middle of my disgrace. In the middle of their full on the enjoyment of sheer bullying. She covered me with her love. Being all grown, at six years old. She wiped my tears. Pulled my body off the floor.
I made it. Past their scrutiny, past their foul words. Past the regret of not knowing how to take care of myself.
We’d become best friends that day. She too needed a mother. I cooked her meals, walked her to school. She introduced me to an old school beautician in our neighborhood. The rest is history
God is good like that.~your kindness sister Krissy Mosley
I almost didn’t write today. I almost allowed my distractions to get the best of me. I almost felt like giving up was the answer. However giving up is never the answer. So I came back to the page. I came back to the place of hope. I came back to try again. I came back to say, I’m still here. I’m still writing. I’m still trying.
In the words of Toni Morrison “Freeing yourself was one thing claiming ownership of the freed self was another.” If nothing else I claim myself worthy of being free. I claim myself worthy to come again and again to the page.
As the morning moves the blues clean into hiding and my tears have prayed me- even before I did Marvin Gaye’s words prove to be the latest gospel “oh mercy, mercy me, things ain’t what they used to be”
The soul of America, has a hole where there used to be a heartbeat the heartbeat of souls slowly dripping over yonder- the blood of worshipers’, the blood of grocery store shoppers’ , the blood of morning commuters’, the blood of protesters’,
the blood that gives me strength, blood that holds whole families together the blood of day to day, and their blood still cries out from the ground
this is the ache of darkness we are forced to sit with it, the ache we can’t swallow, because our throats are hard like stone,
so I must tell you, as I must tell myself, don’t hold your breath don’t hold back the tears that follow don’t cut the black bird’s song in mere and morrow
let the song bleed you let this prayer, pray you let these words hug you tightly til you do
when rain speaks she has no shallow dexterity she holds the bosom of skies in peaceful mothering’s broken drops of purpose, going back before the days of moses,
she smells familiar, like the beginning, a leaping exodus, barring wide -stirrings
billows, openings and moaning’s to songs of mercy ditty-breaks, of breathing rain, heaving -heavy her chorus, of holy wonder, dimensions and multitudes will look upon her… she is poet, and prophet, falling with the sunrise, and rising with the night sky.
1) Working in my garden, I have two strawberries growing from my milk carton hydroponic …
2) Staying in touch with friends and family
3) Enjoying the journey, relishing the small steps
4)Doing things without judgment or self criticism
5) Keep going, you got this…
6) Take the gentle reminders, nothing wrong with that
7) Giving Self Hugs -trust your worth it
I’ll continue the journey because of this understanding. Being in the journey: relishing in the good times, the rejection times, the times of uncertainty, in the times where I feel limited, in the times when the limitations come off.
I’m finally to the point where I can, feel good about the process. Not so focused on -what I can accomplish. More so, allowing the peaceful mindset of no matter what happens to be the center. And no matter what comes, stay in the center. Make peace with it. ….💙
Sometimes life can be hard. Even to just breathe continuously without interruptions. There’s always something that takes my breath away. And then I tell myself. Hey! You’re the one holding -breathe girl. Breathe.
I like to think today is a good today to help somebody. Today is a good day to be kind. Today is a good day to just be me. Today is a good day to enjoy the journey, not wanting anything, just enjoying everything.
I remember praying for my mother’s healing and now with her on the other side. Mama I want you know, I never stopped praying…I pray for the shooting in Buffalo N.Y. I pray for senseless wars everywhere. I pray for my fellow bloggers and those who I meet. I pray because I need to feel God. I pray that God feels me. I pray when I take my last breath, the world will be better, because I was a vessel of kindness. I pray I was joy in somebody’s sadness. I pray I was light in the oil of sorrow. I pray I was the beauty of gladness in hard times. I pray I was there to give, to give healing and put a dent in somebody’s suffering. This is what I pray Amen.
where there is surrender, there is a greater reveal of spirit, where there is virtue -yielding, there is the awakening, where there is a waving of both hands, there is readiness, where there is emptying out, there is a changing of old guard, where there is a for- giving- and giving of itself is a sweet release, and where there is a sweet -release there is walking home, carrying out its own transmission of burdensome -ghastly- fears, this is the getty in the journey, yearning, un-learning grieving in the meaning, of surrender.
I am Eva -former refugee, doctor and a writer. My parents were Holocaust survivors, I escaped communism. I wrote a novel, mixing family stories and fiction. A novel about Holocaust, communism, racism and emigration. What makes people leave, and what happens to the ones who do, and to the ones who stay. I believe these old stories are more important now than ever before.