Sadness on the 3rd of July

A lot of thing happened. We attended a virtual funeral and we lost our sweet dog on the same day. I kept rolling through emotions trying to keep it all together. I keep rolling through reflective moments and sadness.

Image courtesy of Nappy.Co / Photographer Credit:

Today is July 3, 2020. Today, I feel sadness, melancholy, loneliness – but I also feel a great sense of clarity. I feel a great sense of maturity and wisdom has formed inside of me.

I remember so keenly that I never wanted to be in the shadows in my twenties. I had a great loathing for anyone who made Black American women invisible and marginalized. I remember feeling invisible and having my Blackness, my Black Girl-hood, and my Black Woman-hood weaponized against my humanity. Since weaponization stops you from being free, I have always felt my humanity was encroached upon in a violent way. After further introspection, it keeps you in fear.

I want to be free. I want to be angry without retribution. I want to be free. I want to be sad and grieve without explaining my sadness. I just want to be free to be sad.

I’ve lived out loud. My anger, my passion, my fears, my hurt, my insecurities… all loud and real and normal. And here on this terrible day, I am processing my humanity as I’ve shrunk and moved through life.

No shame.

… but somewhere along the way, I have shrunk myself. I shrunk myself against my own wishes. Against my own inner voice. I tried to drown myself in the shallow water, so at least the world could see me. … but I became invisible. And nothing makes you feel more invisible than grief and sadness. I’m cloaked in it today.

Yet, as I evolve and as you evolve, you mature. You start to realize that there is this cracking inside your soul. Loud booms in moving us through these sad moments. There is this thunder in your soul like a cracking roar in moving through grief and sadness, having a good heart – but paralyzed by the pain of loss and saying nothing.

As a wise, middle-aged Black American woman I reflect on moving in and out of these harsh and soul crushing emotional spaces. I reflect on the lives of people who I no longer see. Those who have died. Those who have crossed me and I no longer engage. Those who pushed me away. Even those who I inadvertently smothered. All gone. All away. Who were they to me? Are these hauntings or are these cemented memories?

I am reminded that nothing is permanent, including our lives. I am reminded that on this journey to who I am now, a lot of people held my hand and showed me the way. They showed me that the world I wanted was not crazy or unreasonable. They showed me that I was worthy of love. Many of those that have left this earth, but who loved me, accepted me with broken pieces and all. They walked along side me as long as they could in this journey.

Today, I sat back and evaluated my role in the lives of all those I lost. Sometimes i’m a main character, an extra or I’m impersonating a fern. I’ve learned to enjoyed my invisibility in my old age and leverage it with Grace.

I’ve collapsed into myself today. And it feels safe here.