I miss writing, I miss me when I used to write…I’m writing now

Long title. But today I felt like actually coming through and sitting down to actually write. Write, write, to write, to say something to say my words out loud on the screen, this screen – our screen.

I feel better. This morning I dragged myself out of bed, feeling sorry for myself. Critical of myself and yet determined to change up my hair. So it is changed. Yet again. Like me. Like all of me that keeps changing and changing and coming up with more things to change. The 5 minute journal that my sister gifted me 3 years ago finally found it’s birth last night. I started to write there for the first time. My new journal for 2018. Will this year be better? I think so. Honestly. I don’t feel as “only numb” but thawed in many ways finally….eventually.

My hair is giving me life. I woke up this morning determined to change it yet again and now I did. And to think that 3+ years ago I thought I would just keep going with that “curly revival” and never touch it. Funny. My hair died when my innocence was being crushed yet again in Ghana 1 year ago actually. Or going on 2 actually already?Time….this thing of time which just drifts farther and farther away is a strange thing.

Last summer finally I began to grasp that time is a rapid thing. A thing that never stood still even when my ordinary days in Ghana felt like eternities in passing. One day had 48 hours it seemed. I was wrong. People moved on in other parts, broke down, found new things, made new people and prices went up and changed. As I had changed so did they…and the places that I knew too. Prices went up, Berlin boomed and continues to boom and kind of also push me away. Or I would say repelling actually…something like that.

I’m talking to him now as he called. Long-distance requires respect of time differences. And this post came to a holt and I only now realizing that it was 3 days ago when I first began to write it (yes it is now the 11th and I’m back to finish it). He called and then my writing stopped. When someone is talking to you, listen, give them your full attention or at least try.

So now it is Thursday, and I am going soon back to my old university for a job orientation. Albeit not the kind of job I thought I would be doing on that campus after spending thousands of dollars on my education there, but alas I am content! I just hope as I wrote in my journal this morning I won’t be too overwhelmed and too proud to work in the food industry after my education and “other” pursuits and failures. It’s all part of my journey, and as I wrote in my journal today I hope to respect it and the pace at which my life takes to get to my true independence. Which is my lifelong dream for myself. Humble.

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When you realize that Anger, Disappointment and Pain are not going to be themes of my life.

Of course I am angry. Of course I am hurt. Anger is a product of hurting. While I hurt I am angry but then it will fade and just settle into hurt.

Maybe I hurt because I am hurting people? That could be true as well. Well, right this moment, I am tired and the solution I think to end this cycle is to simply not have relationships with people, that way nobody gets hurt. Not on my account at least. That’s what I can control.

These years have been brutal. I have gone through hurt and disappointments, and complete melting of my innocence. I have hurt and have been irreparably hurt as well. I acknowledge that this is all part of life as well and that it is time to just accept things and myself for all of these things. All of these things. The key has been to find myself in the midst of all these things.

Relationships and life move on. They end to move on. Period.

Starting today I am consciously changed yet again. And more importantly I am also more consciously choosing who and when gets to hurt me and how I myself am going to be complacent in these situations.

Let go even of the people I thought would hold on till my ending days.

This is not out of spite but simple realization that  Anger, Disappointment and Pain are not going to be themes of my life. I am not perfect (I don’t expect anyone to be), but I see that my intent and pressures are at a colossal clash that things are just happening at a pace and repetitive manner which I don’t want anymore. My soul doesn’t want it anymore.

Peace to those who want it. I’m not here for more of sadness anymore.

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Going there…

Yesterday I wrote about how I am just numb, and have been rather on the numbness train for a while now. It comes in waves, it came in big swoops a few years ago, now it’s better. I mean, more importantly than saying this out loud (or typing and sharing about this numbness) I am happy to actually feel better about admitting it is a path to empowerment and healing and shows reflection. Yep

Also I am realizing more and more, and more with progression of my time on this planet, through my lived experiences that Racism is strong, vile and it’s crippling. Yes, it’ crippling.  I mean really crippling. Compounded by learning more and more about how it actually affects you too is rather uneasy – that’s lightly said.

The existance thus of the Brown and Black body in this type of environment is truthfully a form of resilience and out most power! Yes, power, the kind of power that this racist world doesn’t want you to overcome.

Some thoughts.

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Not happy – confessions of the late 20’s

Yes, I have not been happy for a very long time. In a way that feels rather surreal even. The shift happened, I had acknowledged it a while back and now what? Well it becomes your reality. Depression. Yes, those are cyclical, also admittedly so. I’ve shied away from writing these thoughts also out of laziness too. Now I guess, I could pat myself on the back for finally doing it. Admitting these things a little bit more louder.

Yet again I find myself in Germany. For what? Love, escape, longing, search and assertion of privileges. I used to be so cool and feel that way too, where is that woman now? We change, things change, life changes.

I guess I am still somewhat cool, a little battered and emotionally dull and numb but somewhat and somehow still not all is lost. This is the last year of the 20s after all too.

 

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Drowning while already drowned

Exhale. I have been wanting to write since my return now and couldn’t and didn’t while having used the excuse of having the laptop being repaired by my sister. She did and now I felt that excusing myself was a bit too much. Besides, I couldn’t sleep anymore. It’s jet lag I suppose.

My grandmother is dead. Both of my grandparents on father’s side now are deceased. I remember the craziness of February 4th when I woke up still in daze from my other slumber of having the feeling that I’ve drowned already from “failure” to imminently being told that she is not well. I meddled in booking the trip to see her and not wanting my father to be alone….it’s such a painful journey, then I finally faced the consequence of having to face an even slimmer bank account after an unexpected expense of purchasing the unplanned ticket for a flight coming up in a few hours….it was done.

The plane ride. I didn’t truthfully know what to feel. If I could feel even really. We got through it. Surreal. Then we arrived. Just like that, BAAM a different setting again. Warm weather, not bullshit of racist choking dogma, a country full of brown and black people again. Again….

It hit me that grandmother was already dead when riding in the car. Before that I was still naive in a way and unknowing of what was happening. Then I got it. It is utterly too late. She already passed away. Though we arrived on the most fastest flight possible, grandmother’s flesh was already empty and her soul and body warmth never to be witnessed by my father nor I again. Not here anymore at least. I remember vaguely not looking out of the car windows anymore during that ride, a feeling of not caring and knowing where I was going (I don’t know the city of Addis like that anyways) and just feeling that it was irrelevant anyways. Then we arrived. People, so many people who were crying and screaming. Then the wooden box. Grandma inside but I was unable to see her anymore as she was shut closed. The same room with the table holding her straight in the living room which I vowed and looked forward to visiting soon. How did I not recognize that 5 years almost passed since that promise was last made? What the fuck is the point question, crossed my mind again…at least began to pop up it’s seeds in my mind at that moment.

I felt paralyzed. I couldn’t go and touch the casket. It felt like a blur. I never touched grandma for the last time before she was whisked into the graveyard, a day later. I remember losing breath and nearly collapsing at the church site after the burial when the claustrophobia of so many people and and a hike to get to the church in the sun finally caught up with me. I had to kneel down, with stamina I gasped but did not faint. I was panicking. My aunt allowed me the space and I was able to get out of the crowd to sit down away from it. I remember sleeping later after that for some hours.

Grandmother is gone now.

 

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I’m Back

Though really I have written just in different places and spaces. Just went browsing down below to read my previous posts. It’s been a while. Like nearly 4 years while. In that time I have written in other spaces, the most prolonged one being my Peace Corps journals which have now vanished. Gratitude (with sarcasm and a sense of wanting to beat someone up) is given to the forces and circumstances which have led to their loss. Last August en route from Ghana to Berlin. I’m sure the customs at Tegel has enjoyed my private thoughts…fick dich (whoever) for enjoying them. Anyways, no need to get too much into that mood.

I haven’t written in ages online really. I think I’ve written a post not too long ago maybe in November of 2016 on one of my older blogs, but honestly I doubt I’ll go back to that site again. It carries too much of the past. Though my memory might not be too good, and this I do not say lightly, it truly is troubling when I’m exceptionally honest with myself, the point to which I recognize how short my memory is on things – it’s well alarming. Probably something I should look into checking while I have my health insurance before this new American regime continues it’s extermination and terrorization of my Brown existance. It’s the era of resistance. Anyways, it feels good to write actually. It really does.

Also while browsing through some emails an inspiration came to mind. I want to find a creative way to share and explore for myself my 1 year and 9 months in West Africa. A tumultuous experience really which ended in a way of being tossed away…. Perhaps a photo exhibition – with music….Ein Fotoausstellung…..something like that? Yeah? Yeah? I think I should do that….

Art and creativity heal after all, don’t they?

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Own it

For a few hours now a thought of regret, but not like self badgering kind, has been brewing in my mind. Why did I call this guy today? It is quite useless to be honest to have called him. Literally he rejected me and then I fought my way to find out why. Because a. I am a very curious person. b. I am honest in my emotions and intentions (of course here I am ever always improving upon making them as authentic as possible), and c. I was literally fed completely different signals from what was about to smack the living shiz out of me upon being told I was being dumped. Those are just a few things…also I would have never really hurt someone intentionally or deliberately, or in such a calculated way as I was at that time hurt.

I transgress, those things do not matter to be honest. I have suppressed a lot of my intuition when I was in that person and I don’t ever want to do that again. Frankly, after crying for the past 8 months. Four of which have been utterly non stop until just two days ago…I think this is rather out of character for me. The person is alive, thriving in their choices (yes which included dumping me), and

 

I do not want to change my freedom for anything and anyone at the moment. I do not wish to be tied down by any “romantic” relationship especially anything that would make me suppress my true self. I am learning about myself and I love this journey. I am so grateful the break up happened, and today I even feel that the fact that it happened in such a harsh way was a blessing rather than a crippling misfortune for me as I have previously thought. Yes, still I do not think it had to be so cruel as it was, but whatever I am able to look past this and appreciate the lessons that are still pouring in. Today at 12:2am I would have to say that I do not want to have a skype conversation with him on Friday or anytime soon for that matter. I do not really see the need and maybe I will forever miss something about him, yet the fact that it is broken…the bond was broken and our time on earth is limited and that person knows this too shows a lot. I have learned so much about my character, the source of where my jealousy has been coming from and what I need from my partner to help me with in order to cope with these things that clearly this person was a lesson rather than a means to an end in terms of who my partner should be. Something like that. I think the sheer preoccupation with this heartbreak and the person has been a little bit too excessive to be honest. And reaching out, wanting to say something…why? I don’t see the value in it as much as I did before. Not sure…to be honest, so what? It happened I am taking amazing lessons from it all and I would say I don’t really need this person in my life anymore…wow. I did just say that. I saw a light in him that he doesn’t see, but if my light is not seen and considered not essential I accept and move on.

This really is powerful and therapeutic for me to be able to verbalize and rationalize. And I know I might have ups and downs about this but honestly this is a great sense of maturity on my end. Embracing myself the way I come out at each and every moment.

Today is not Friday yet, and frankly there is no need to be bothered with the future. The present is the key, and I want to experience each and every emotion I have at each moment and honor it all.

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My first tattoo will be: “Happiness is an unlimited resource.” I think I want to do it in the languages I speak, or maybe just a combination of foreign letters. Not sure yet.

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