Each year I hear people say “New year new me.” But by the end of the first month, they’ve already subconsciously fallen back into their stale ways. Whether it be unhealthy eating habits, poor money management skills, enabling toxic relationships, or the absence of self-care regimens. We’ve all done it. But for me 2019 was the last of many lessons learned.
In the previous 365 days, I granted myself permission to vulnerability with hopes of uncaging my fears and conditioned ignorance. I made wars out of others’ silence and single-handedly fought alone. I broke generational curses that cradled my family as a mother would her newborn child. And I healed scarred wounds that had taken shelter beneath my fake facade and cheap blouse.
I no longer have interest in repeating lessons.
2019 was the year of hurting and healing. It was the year of standing up for myself, and being prepared to walk away from anyone not supportive of my decision to do so. It was the year of finding closure; even if not delivered first-hand by the requestee. It was the year of sacrificing peace of mind in exchange for protected egos and reputations. It was the year of grieving loss: Partly for a brother whom I had fallen short of “I love yous” to. And the other part for the piece of me who died with him on September 16th, 2019… I love you Tyler Alexander.
2019 was the year of unapologetically mothering a mother who had mothered me my entire life. At great costs of course. But fearlessly nevertheless. It was the year of bathroom floor moments that found themselves to be more comforting than my Queen size bed. It was the year of confronting suppressed trauma that left trigger points across my weary soul. And it was the year of disrobing the Brittany I was then, and welcoming the Brittany I am now. To hell with 2019 and the hurt she brought as a plus one to my uninvited party.
In the words of Kimberly Elise “ The old Helen is gone.” And this time she would not be returning. And of all the things 2019 was, I still found healing in the chaos.
heal·ing
/ˈhēliNG/
noun
the process of making or becoming sound or healthy again.
“the gift of healing”
I really don’t know how sound I will ever be. But I’m wildly optimistic during my journey of finding out. 2019 taught me to be both confident and audacious with my life moving forward. I have experienced both hurt and healing in the very same day, and have survived. So going forward has to be different. 2019 taught me to be ardent with everyone in my life-both good and bad. It taught me to love myself fearlessly because I am my biggest priority. It taught me that sometimes I am both the requestor and requestee of my own closure. And that’s quite alright. 2019 taught me to set boundaries with anyone and anything capable of jeopardizing my mental. But understanding I still have the final say. It taught me that my bathroom floor is a damn good crying place no matter what time of day it is. It taught me that therapy is my favorite part of self-care, and that it isn’t only “for white people.” But most of all 2019 taught me to heal. Because if it hurt it will heal. And I hurt a lot in these past 365 days.
She who let’s go lets God.
I awakened a shift in my existence on the 1st of January 2020. I knew moving forward my life would be different. I hope 2020 is full of confidence, love, and continuous healing. May I always remember to take up space in the rooms I step into. May I always continue to place myself first, and the opinions of others’ last. May 2020 deliver me from all things impure and unclear. May I take the lessons of 2019 and apply them to my daily continuation of life. And may I continue to find comfort in those who find comfort in me.
Xoxo,
MindMyMelanin
MindMyMelanin 