Trying to Survive

I was 42 years old when I experienced my first anxiety attack; full blown hyperventilating, uncontrollable crying, scattered thoughts, unintelligible speech pattern and an complete inability to make any kind of decision. Scared the shit out of me and everyone around me honestly. What set the trainwreck into motion? Not being able to find one of my kid's birth certificates. Spun. Me. Out.

It took me over a day to feel "normal" again. My body felt like I'd been in a fight for my damn life. I was exhausted and disappointed in my lack of ability to keep it together. I am the glue. What kind of glue can't stick to itself? The quotations are for what is perceived by everyone else as my "normal". What I know to be my normal is a mind that races in several different directions in every waking moment that I'm not manifesting my ideal life in my mind's eye. What I know my normal to be is a mind full of obligations, insurmountable pressure and a penchant for kicking the shit out of myself when I'm down. What I know to be my normal is a constant feeling of ineptitude, longing and misfires in love familial and romantic. What I know to be my normal is operating on 4 hours of sleep, Kenny G playing low and soft until I lay down and then Lil John is in my head with his whole crew perfomring like it's his last and the only word I know in the song is "YEAH"!

It's crazy. When Maren Morris (Hey sis!) said she performs miracles in the shadows, I FELT THAT.I get shit done. Literal miracles every day. We live a decent life that is scraped together on less than 18k a year and Grace from God (who does not play about me and mine! Amen). I don't know how I do it so I can only attribute my wins to Him. I don't know what a psychologist would say (because of my 8 college majors, Psych wasn't one of them) but it's a clusterfuck of emotions to feel like there's a cape attached to all of my carefully crafted fashion choices because I'm super as fuck (DUH) while simultaneously being petrified of being on the front-line of the next inexplicable shitty thing barreling toward me at warp speed despite my best efforts and Plan Ds for every Plan C. I am capable, sound, intelligent, tenacious...all the shit employers ask you to choose on those incessantly long job applications (WTF is the interview for after all these questions?!?) with questions that ask you the same thing in several different ways. My life gets heavy. I often feel like an alien in enemy territory. Often times, I have to fight for my emotional and spiritual safety. I've had to fight for my physical safety more times than I'd like to recall and though my recent boundaries have caused me to be labeled selfish, I consistently put myself on the back burner even if it's on damn fire.

I know me, better than anyone, so yes, I am all of those things. My six children are amazing, responsible, inspirational people as are my 7 bonus children that know Mama Tiffany is lighting matches and riding at dawn for all 13 of them. We've raised our babies in the hood. They are all safe, free of criminal records and pregnancies, matriculated or on the fast track to high school completion. My 7 year old is autistic and is one of the coolest people I have ever met. My 4 year old was the only Pre K student that could read this school year. They thrive so I must be doing something right. Right? I still have to tell myself all of these things every single day. I still have to be a Black woman, in the South, incredulous but labeled angry and combative for calling out bullshit. I still have to be a mom, sister, friend, daughter, aunt, cousin...I still have to be human.

Why do I need anyone to tell me what I know? Why isn't the good of it all and the right of it all good enough for me to just let go of the pressure I put on myself? At what point do I stop being mad about what it takes to survive this life and just lean into all of the things that make the light you all see, visible to me? Those answers may not come to me in this moment, but they will because I will never stop putting one foot in front of the other on my way to THRIVE. I've got this survivor shit handled. I've got my eyes on a much bigger prize.

**I've lived a great many lives in these 42 years and a few months. I've decided to share my stories with you all. What I've been through in this life would have broken a weaker vessel. My back, heart, mind and spirit are strong. Maybe, just maybe, someone will learn something from me and make a step in the direction of THRIVE. Talk to y'all soon.