Everyone of us is...
How I'm Worthy..
This first blog is about the experiences that have led me to become who I truly am. There is a lot of jumping around but if you stay tuned and read them all, you will understand how the continuous evolution of me brings my healing full circle, as well as how I can help you gain yours.
As a person of color, a woman of color, a black woman I have been lost in this world. I have been staring at the dark shadows as I became determined to belittle, berate and bemoan myself into an ordinary human. I say ordinary human because this world, this country, this state, this city wants me to fit into a make believe box of "this is what a good girl does". I no longer subscribe. So as I cancel my subscription to "the struggle is my badge of honor", I have decided to do this my way.
My way uses music. India.Arie is my favorite artist. Period. Her music speaks life into my soul and has for over 20yrs. Her album WORTHY parallels my life right now in so many ways so I decided to tell my story weaving in lyrics from this album because well, because I can. So here we go.
The intro is called Worthy. "Everyone of us is worthy." Is literally all she says. Five words that changed my life when I realized it. What does it mean to be worthy? Worthy of what? Why? How? Is this even a thought? Why yes. Yes it is, otherwise my sis India wouldn't be singing it so melodically into the universe. (my opinion, she is my oracle)
Last year in the aftermath of losing Brother Floyd I was at a crossroads. I was working for an organization that helped people who struggle after incarceration. See when crises is upon us folkx true colors shine bright. I was working for the kind of people who would not recognize their own bias if they looked in the mirror while talking. So when we came home for the "panendrum" (pandemic) the influence I used to humanize the people of color we worked with (as clients) diminished. Yes I said it. I used my ability to "humanize myself" in their eyes as a means of advocating for the other people of color we were supposed to be working for.
After months of frustration and honest disbelief, and losing Brother Floyd and the country erupting, I was met with Caucasian tears and "I can't believe what it must be like to be you" statements. In my attempt to pacify the world and remain ordinary-ness I was kind of relieved thinking "I work for some good white women" (excuse the enslaved thought processing). The next day or so my homie shutdown apple music by speaking out about the pause we needed to take (like literally “the show must pause”). She spoke about how we couldn't keep just showing up like everything was ok. So I joined the "protest" by taking my time answering my calls and emails that day. Sooner or later I get the "I've been trying to contact you all day, you work for me lil black girl" (not literally but you know the tone) email and phone call. I was triggered. The conversation wasn't pretty. I was voluntold to take 10 days (of my vacay time) to get some rest, maybe contact EAP blah..blah..blah. Again I was mistaken. I thought this was how they cared for my well being. After a little reflection I was like wait, am I suspended?
Time goes on and I have a 1-on 1 with my supervisor who expressed how I didn't do her job well. You know the “well you haven't done this or this or this” all the while realizing that none of those things are really your job? I began to back down. Shrink if you will. See I have a baby daughter and I need this here good check and this here good insurance so imma gone head and take this here tongue lashing. Well, that essence of Ronda, that who I am said, “Hold on..we doing this AGAIN? Nawl shawty..we've been meditating and praying and the ancestors be percalatin' (as my hubby says).” All of a sudden the spirit of my mother in all her calm yet stearn don't too often cuss-ness said "You betta stand yo M-Fin ground". I settled in to let my “supervisor” know she had me F'd up (respectfully) and that was the beginning of my latest version of transformation.
I came home and told my husband I couldn't do it anymore. I could not tolerate having to go through "remedial training" with this person when I could do her job in my deepest sleep after 8 shots of Cabo Wabo. So he reluctantly but lovingly said do what you gotta do love. See I had birthed my daughter a year before and almost became one of the black moms who didn't make it. On top of my sudden onset of health issues (complications from pregnancy), my father-in-law passed four days after my daughter was born. So here I am attempting to navigate what it looks like to raise my daughter without my mother while my husband navigates what it looks like to be a father without his father..
A few months before all of this I received some prophetic information that told me to look into my childhood. That a lot of what I struggle with currently has roots in my childhood. Well at first I was perplexed. My childhood was interesting but loving and fulfilling. My parents loved me. I had friends and family who loved me. I was smart. Made good grades. Went to private school. Lived in the hood. Didn't want for nothing (or so I thought). I had to do some meditating to reduce the clutter and find the meaning. After all, my healing was at stake.
See, I lost my mother in 2010. I'm no stranger to death. From 98-2010 I had lost my grandpa, my sister, my brothers, my nephews back to back year after year. I mean she had been sick but her dying? Nah. But it happened. It actually happened. My mother had passed from this world. I was still very religious at the time and my understanding of heaven (while comforting) was not enough for me. Not having her meant I was truly alone. My father died in 2002 and the death of my mom meant I was a full blown orphan. No thing prepares you for that. I was 25 yrs old and just about to push into this world as my full self (or that version of me) and then I became a different person overnight.
As I continued to wrap my head around this spirit of healing that has been carrying me this past year, I listened to a recording of myself from last summer having a breakthrough. Sometimes I purge my feelings and record them so I can understand how I've grown. This time me recording my thoughts out loud did not disappoint. Whew Lordt the tea! About my ownself?!? It was heavy. I had 10yrs of pent up WTF-ness that came flying out and I had addressed it to my family but it was for my Self.
"So I've come to the realization that I have hidden (myself) from my family for so long because they know who I am. I don't know if it was shame and embarrassment, resentment for myself guilt (or) fear. Feeling like I had a hand to play in my mother's death. Thinking that I was selfish enough to let my mother die is one of the most horrific tricks I’ve ever played on me.. I have been unhappy, discontent, even hatred for myself.. yeah I hated me. Because I thought I killed her. And what kind of person kills their mother? And it made me have to realize and evaluate who really are you, are you a monster? Is your lineage of the type that you would be capable of such a thing? But as I reach 36yrs of age I realize that I only did the best that I could with what I had at the time. Fundamentally I could not stand to think of her dying on a cold operating table with her body open. Something about that just made me so uncomfortable and yes I had the strength to pull the trigger. That was the most Ronda thing I have ever done."
This is just the first part of the recording. I’m sure the rest of it will come in handy as I go through India's album using it to bring my life to you. Up next, What If.
Stay tuned as I continue to explore how I gained the understanding that helps me tell the world "How I'm Worthy". Visit my website at www.worthyofwellbeing.com for more inspirational content and health and wellness coaching services.