Today is my 35th birthday. It’s also the first time in nearly three years that I’ve written anything for this site. With the way the world has been, though, I’m going to assume that my lack of posting is a shocker to absolutely no one.
Before it descended into a dystopian hellscape, I had high hopes for 2020. On the first day of the year, I put up a post that reflected on the last decade, which had just come to a close. It left me feeling proud of myself, grateful for my growth, and optimistic about the future. I was especially excited about traveling to D.C. in January to celebrate the 100th anniversary of the founding of my sorority, Zeta Phi Beta. It was a bittersweet trip, because I spent a lot of my time thinking about how much fun my mother and I would have had together, celebrating our sisterhood. Being her legacy is one of my greatest joys, but it hurts so much that I’ve never been able to share the experience with her; she died 3 years before I became a member.
Luckily, I was able to get out of my head and have tons of fun with the thousands of sorors that descended upon the city, and Howard University, where it all began. Based on my biweekly writing schedule, I was supposed to post something while I was in D.C. I found myself typing furiously in the lobby of the host hotel, occasionally looking up to give a quick greeting when I saw another member. Eventually, I shut everything out, hyper focused on my writing. I almost didn’t notice the seasoned soror who had literally rolled up on me in a motorized wheelchair, with a concerned look on her face. I smiled and said hello, but her face didn’t change. She leaned forward, and in an undeniably Brooklyn accent, said “Now I know that you’re not sitting up here working, Soror.” I chuckled and explained that it wasn’t “work work,” but a post for my blog.
“Okay, and?,” she said, laughing a bit.
“You look stressed. So I need you to close that computer.”
The way deference is set up, I wasn’t about to argue with her. I’d also reached a point in my writing where I was talking about my mother, which had me on the verge of tears. I honestly felt like as my guardian angel, she’d sent this soror to tell me to relax and just be in the moment. I closed my laptop, and we talked for nearly an hour. I told myself that I’d get back to posting in February, which was a couple weeks away.
But when February came, so did two of my siblings–unexpectedly–to live with me temporarily. In my one-bedroom apartment. The stress of that situation, along with continually mounting stress at work, where I was essentially being asked to do the work of two full-time positions, put a significant damper on my inspiration. There was still a bit of hope, though, until Ms. Rona made her way to Michigan in March.
I had never felt more scared or uncertain in my entire life. And the stay-at-home order? Tuh. Even though my siblings were living with me, I still felt isolated in my own way. I could feel something in me just breaking, and it was terrifying.
By the time we got to mid-June, one of my siblings had moved out, and we were deep into the rightful ire (and seemingly incessant virtue-signaling) that followed the murder of George Floyd. I remember telling my boss that between the pandemic, my workload, and my own personal stuff, I felt like I was drowning. I also expressed frustration with the fact that my office had remained silent as what felt like the entire world spoke out against racialized police violence. I will never, ever forget that after listening to me, my boss made a minor attempt at empathy, and then asked if maybe I could “put something together about Black Lives Matter” for our social media platforms. You know, if I had the capacity, but no pressure. (Yes, yes she was.)
I immediately started looking for new jobs. Little did I know, that would be necessary anyway, since I was laid off by my job in July. My other sibling had moved out in late June, so I was back to being alone. All the time. And somewhere in there, I completely lost my shit.
As in, “had a psychotic break and was hospitalized for two weeks” lost my shit.
To be continued…