I’m going to be using some explicit language in this post. I’m not sorry for how I feel, but I am sensitive to the fact that harsh language and curse words are triggering for some people due to trauma they have suffered. I would like to caution you, if that is the case for you – perhaps you should skip this blog post. Truly. — You can still love me and read my other blog post. I have many. Muah.
Listen Linda, Latisha, Lourida… whatever your name happens to be at this moment. Listen to me when I say this …. make space for yourself so you can “come thru” for YOU.
I’m preaching today, for free because I feel all the ways. I realize that I’ve been holding space for dead relationships, dead friendships, dead work associates … holding space in my heart, in my day, in my space time continuum and then waking up at 46 years old and realizing I’m bad ass motherfucker and I have held absolutely NO SPACE FOR ME. And the hurtful part is no other motherfucker – other than my parents, my very close friends and my loving child has EVER held space for me. So this massive void I feel every night when I cry myself to sleep sometimes is because I’m holding space for dead spirits, dead energy and dead visions. All of the meaningless voids need to be gathered the fuck up and moved the fuck on.
OH BUT THAT IS EASIER SAID THAN DONE.
See when we hold space, we hold hope. When we hold hope, we hold due care. When we hold due care, we hold love, light, kindness, generosity, passion, affection, adoration – we hold all that in our hearts. … but when it is unrequited, the shit weighs us down like a giant beer gut. (Yes, I have a giant beer gut but it’s really fibroids and that I like my pasta…. don’t judge me, gotdamnit. I digress. Read the fuck on.) When we hold space for dead things, we eliminate CRITICALLY NEEDED spaces for US, FOR OURSELVES, FOR OUR SOUL. Please holla if you hear me today! With a megahorn.
I wish someone had hipped me to the game of being a Black woman with manic depression and unrealistic expectations that neither I nor the people in my life could live up to… whew that’s a game of losers, losings and mega loss. Some how, I’m still here. I’m still filled with the idea that I need to be here, that I have purpose – but I feel so claustrophobic in my soul. Some things are irritating me and making me lose all my beauty sleep. And it was the fact that I made room for everyone else I love ( and many motherfuckers didn’t deserve my amazing, all encompassing, vast as the galaxy type of love… ) and in the end I made NO SPACE for me. I was holding space for every other fucker but me. AND IT HURTS WHEN YOU WAKE UP TO THE FACT THAT YOU WERE BLOCKING THE “COME THRU” FOR YOU. SEE YOU ARE YOUR SAVIOR. EVERYTHING THAT YOU NEED GOD/ UNIVERSE WILL PROVIDE AND ALL THE STRENGTH YOU NEED TO MUSTER IS ALREADY WITHIN YOU. You just gotta “come thru” for yourself, but if there is no space for you to come through with self-actualization and self-reflection – then you sit in the dark void of all that empty, meaningless, worthless, thankless fucking space you been holding for all the other deadbeat motherfuckers that don’t give a fuck about you, yo’ Momma, yo’ kids, yo’ existence, yo’ Prime subscription and your Spotify playlist.
Here are some examples of how we (myself so included – zero-no-highest – captain dead space holding ass ME…) hold dead space in our hearts and souls:
- Holding on to memories of a lover who was never there when you needed them
- Holding on to the idea that a toxic relationship/ friendship can ever turn into something productive without the toxic person being held accountable
- Putting all your eggs in one basket when you see the basket has a hole in it fiscally, morally or ethically
- Clinging to a project for cash but feeling that your brand or business is being compromised to the point that you’re rendered inept
- Believing that racist / prejudice coworkers will change
- Thinking that if you hide from your financial dire straits that you will make time to fix all the problems in your fiscal life and get back on track
- Spoiling your children and then hoping they turn out to be ethical and forthright, but you haven’t sewn an ounce of decency in their spirits or their bones
- Wishing that your toxic and narcissistic parent wakes up in their 60’s or 70’s and suddenly become the parent you needed when you were 8 years old
- Hoping that the color stuck fuckboi that you loved with all your heart suddenly matures and stops caping for white supremacy, then magically sees the absolute sublime nature of your Black American beauty
- Being gay and constantly pinning your hopes on turning out straight people for some Hallmark channel romance you keep fantasizing about when you are stuck on the D-train
- Wishing that a cheating spouse would change and love you and be a parent to your children, when you know deep down inside they never will
- Waiting on text messages from an aloof potential lover that neither has time to speak to you on the phone or actually sit down in person and have a conversation with you like a decent human being
We all hold space for bullshhh and dead things in our own way and I’m begging you – LET IT GO. Let it all go of all your dead weight and make space for YOU. Darling you are so worth it. You are so worth all the space your tender heart can hold because you love like no other and you are worthy of love.
This concludes my gotdamn sermon today. Either I’m going to cry now or eat some peanut M&M(s) or both. I’m in my feelings, but I feel good about the future and holding space for myself and you should too.