The comfort of shaky ground

After writing my last blog post at the end of 2022 I truly felt like the tide was finally changing, and I was reaching the level of professional and personal growth I've been waiting for. Unfortunately, that feeling lasted for about 4 months. It has since become another season of transition. Another season of trying to make sense of yet another sudden change in my life. Another season of picking myself up so that I can continue to move forward. Quite frankly, I’m so fucking tired of it.

I’m tired of being in this never ending cycle of transition and instability. Chaos is such a familiar state for me that while I’m tired of it, I’m comfortable with it. I’m comfortable with being uprooted from solid ground and placed back on shaky ground because it’s the only dependable thing in my life...and that is so fucking sad to admit. My goodness, typing that makes me cringe while at the same time a part of me is pushing me to speak my truth.

My truth? The trauma fog has muddied things for me. I no longer see the bright side as quickly as I used to. I no longer see the rationale behind the sentiment “everything happens for a reason.” I admit, I’m currently in a state of defeat. I don't feel like I have anymore fight left in me, and that scared me. That feeling of defeat is why I got up to write this blog post. Helping youth is my purpose for being here, and I can't let that be destroyed. Yes, I acknowledge that my drive to keep trying is external. I continue to fight in honor of my grandmother and the youth that need an understanding space to be themselves. I would be lying if I said fighting for myself is part of the equation. I fear that I have entered a place of acceptance that my trauma fog and the ripple effects they create will remain a constant presence in my life. It’s sad to admit that out loud, but again…this space is for authentic trauma informed conversation. And in this moment, my trauma has won.

The hustle and bustle of keeping myself upright is exhausting. I’m mentally, physically, and spiritually exhausted. Even in the midst of this, I still want to keep moving for my grandmother and the youth of the world. So, I guess writing this post is my way of trying to explain the defeat away. Or maybe it’s my way of trying to weaken the defeat by showing that writing about it means I’m not afraid of it? I honestly have no idea because even as I write this I feel like I’m not making sense. I feel like I’m writing gibberish. I feel like Blanche in that episode of Golden Girls where she was so sleep deprived and she thought she was writing the next great American novel, when in reality she was just throwing words on a page that were disconnected and incoherent. That’s how I feel as I mind dump these thoughts and emotions from my head and onto the page.

I honestly have no idea if I will ever stand on solid ground because I finally reached a point where I was, and here I am…back on shaky ground. I’m just so tired y'all. Tired of trying to see the bright side. Tired of trying to find the reason. I fear the day will come when the tired will be too much to bear and I will completely surrender to the feeling of defeat. I don't want that to happen, so I will continue to focus on the things that make me want to keep moving. I will focus on my grandmother taking me in and raising me with the love and support I needed. I will focus on the light my grandmother provided for me and do my best to share that light with the youth who are struggling to find theirs.

---

Disclaimer: This blog post doesn't serve as therapy. If you are in need of help, check out the resources page of the website.