Read My Feelings Episode 5: FEAR | Reading "Forgetting & Fear" and "My Daughter Turns 18 Tomorrow"

Forgetting & Fear

@shantellewrites Monday October 9, 2023, October has a Friday the 13th this year; same day this rent money is due. Oh yeah, it’s Columbus Day today because Indigenous People’s Day has yet to be recognized as a federal holiday.[1]


“I Gotta Think Of A Way To Get This Money By Tomorrow.” -Day-Day, Next Friday[2]

Is there a way to do what I need to do even though I’m petrified? I’m scared of even the footsteps above me. Don’t matter where I am I realize–in someone else’s home or my own–I  panic when footsteps approach. In fact, a drawing of my side-door at my old house, that I used to focus on like a horror movie at bedtime, was my creative break. Drawing that door opened me up to the very scared child-me behind it. I started to draw more and to brainstorm ways to support that child with many secrets. My purpose is to create an open door to let anyone leave further terror. It’s that further terror in a bad situation that paralyzes you. [3]


Door Drawing Dream Journal

“A man’s work is nothing but this slow trek to rediscover, through the detours of art, those two or three great and simple images in whose presence his heart first opened.”

— Albert Camus

Look at me now. I just set a risky boundary. If you’re staying at someone’s house, they expect you to talk to them when they say so. They can see you, so it’s even worse than someone demanding you text them back. I took the risk because I realize this landlord isn’t as crazy as the rest–and that he also doesn’t really want to confront me. This is why he’s given me all this time, though it’s obvious I haven’t been going to work all week. It's just still not enough time. It’ll never be enough time to get ready to speak to him, unless I magically wake up with the money. But really that’s not why it’s not enough time.

It’s not enough time because I’m not emotionally ready to take on his emotions. I can’t answer his “When’s?” and “Why’s?” and “How I got fired?”. I didn’t want to let him down and his look of disappointment might break my soul today. I won’t let it tomorrow. I listen to Beyoncé sing that he won’t Break My Soul on my walk out to think about how to respond to his text to talk. I’m confused, distracted, and overwhelmed with my mind’s rambling excuses, hopes, and lack of facts. I don’t have a plan, but I also don’t have an identity right now. I guess that would be the word. I have no face to present for him or for me that will make either of us feel “Okay,” or get to a goal. I need to make calls and make peace with my options. I won’t make empty promises.

He’s not the type I want to exercise my tenant’s rights with. I wouldn’t let him lock me out today and not call the cops, but I’m definitely not trying to object to his deadline either. He’s given me way more than enough time. I could’ve used my time better, but this must be my best with what I had because it’s what I’ve done.

 

Last night I had a memory of being snuggled up with Khai listening to a rain storm in her room. The storms always sounded better in her room, and I wonder if it’s because it was smaller acoustics. I think of her storms because the one I’m listening to now has thunder and I usually skip those. “I think her storms had thunder too and maybe that’s what actually makes them better…”, I think now, laying on the floor where I feel more safe. Sometimes I lay on a pillow next to the door so I can make sure it stays closed all night and so I can hear footsteps of where the others are in the house. These past 3 nights, ear plugs have been heaven-sent, but I slept till noon–wasting time.

I must’ve tuned out Khaia’s storm in reality, because I’d wiped out her memories. I hadn’t thought of her room and the fancy wardrobe closet she’d made from the other room. I forgot she had her own bathroom. I forgot our whole house. Last night I tossed and turned on pillows and hardwood and I really felt the pain of what wasting my money had done. How I ripped it all away and when she’s scared about having nowhere to live; she remembers her loss.

Do I remember my loss? Cuz only last night did I tie the loss of her room to the loss of my house and my yard to play with my dog and my car that used to drive us places. I lost a NY job and started taking low-wage jobs down South–the country. I lost my NY swag of wearing wigs and new clothes and being thin (at least that’s what I thought attempting to binge The Real Housewives of New York this morning). I also watched Coming to America, and it dawned on me that I forgot I was Prince Akeem and now believe I’m here to mop floors

.

So how do I get out? I forget about time and work towards my future, without fearing I won’t make it. I affirm that I am capable, I deserve the best the world has to offer, and I choose my destiny. I started the build for that website for a potential client, but there’s no secure money there. I updated my LinkedIn and resume for Indeed, but I don’t think I can get a job fast enough. But not fast enough is linked to just not fast enough to hold out and work steadily with faith in God. Just not fast enough to avoid the terror of detachment? Just not fast enough to avoid someone stomping on your mustard seed of hope when you’re navigating uncertainty. To smash your plan(t) that’s not enough yet. To let your seed grow slowly enough through fear. 

I’m not petrified. I’ve paused.

Exodus 17 (Read 2)

New International Version

Water From the Rock Exodus 17: 1 The whole Israelite community set out from the Desert of Sin, traveling from place to place as the Lord commanded. They camped at Rephidim, but there was no water for the people to drink. 2 So they quarreled with Moses and said, “Give us water to drink.”Moses replied, “Why do you quarrel with me? Why do you put the Lord to the test?”3 But the people were thirsty for water there, and they grumbled against Moses. They said, “Why did you bring us up out of Egypt to make us and our children and livestock die of thirst?”4 Then Moses cried out to the Lord, “What am I to do with these people? They are almost ready to stone me.”5 The Lord answered Moses, “Go out in front of the people. Take with you some of the elders of Israel and take in your hand the staff with which you struck the Nile, and go. 6 I will stand there before you by the rock at Horeb. Strike the rock, and water will come out of it for the people to drink.” So Moses did this in the sight of the elders of Israel. 7 And he called the place Massah[a] and Meribah[b] because the Israelites quarreled and because they tested the Lord saying, “Is the Lord among us or not?”

What can we learn from Exodus 17?

We learn that God is the one that can help us. We learn that many times reasoning with people or trying to convince them might be pointless. Pray to God for help. We also learn that being a leader or teaching people might not always be easy.[5]

My Daughter Turns 18 Tomorrow (Read 3)

@shantellewrites October 22, 2022

I gotta write something cause this is big. My daughter turns 18 tomorrow; that’s an adult. I’ve done a good job and so has she in raising her. She rides a high vibration and I do my best to keep it up when it starts to fall. I want so much for her. A YouTube warned me the other night not to hold on to her because I need her. That was good timing, because earlier when I told her about the airport jobs, she said she would have enough to take over paying for our streaming subscriptions. Even though a state charity grant just paid off all my light and gas debt, I looked greedily for more. I said she could take over a utility bill. When I heard the YouTube, I realized that’s a slippery slope to including her and needing her in my core budget. Instead, I will do a  dream consult with her and figure out her goal and timeline for housing. Where would she like to live? What’s the plan to make it happen?

LAUNCH!

On TV today, a TV judge warned that a gift that is given and taken away is not a gift, but shackles. Exactly. Self-sufficiency is freedom. My sponsor taught me that. “Shantelle will be self-sufficient, not accepting outside funds and donations.” A gift should not come with conditions; a lesson my mom shared with me in this lecture by Ram Dass.[6]

When I was walking the dog, I thought of so many warnings to give Khaia now that she’ll be spending her first Birthday Midnight outside of the house; outside of my reach. I walked up the hill thinking about whether or not I should tell her to drink. I played it out in 2 ways.

The first: Don’t drink at all. Everyone else around you needs it to feel loosened up to dance, but you already lit. 50 cent talks about the advantage of awareness he has by staying sober at all those big industry events. He sells Effen vodka (which is really smooth and grain-free), but he was also the first to brand premium Vitamin Water. Imagine if you could really live an epic life by taking a shortcut.

The second argument: You only need one drink. You think you can handle another one, because alcohol takes a long time to creep up on you. I thought of the many times I hung over the cold ceramic of a toilet, or lay sprawled on some tiled floor sick to my stomach from a few shots. You are extra sensitive to alcohol, genetically, so you could quickly develop an addiction. But then I thought of her dad and aunt. Or, you may be able to drink like a fuckin fish. Fuck. You may be able to handle your liquor and be a functional alcoholic like that side of the family.

But all of this is my attempt to control and influence by reaction. I continued to walk and think about how I needed to get home and write a blog about the experience of my daughter turning 18. At the beginning of the walk, I thought I could just Google what to tell her about going out, like when I looked up separating from her when she was about to leave for college.

She was supposed to be at an HBCU right now. She has a room full of amazing items that the family purchased off her Amazon wishlist. I taught her the wishlist. She executed it. When we couldn’t come up with the 15K for her to leave, and even a trip to Atlanta with her dad led to naught, she handled it like a G. She’s been a G since she was a baby. I could never make her cry.

So when my baby does cry, I know she’s hurt.

She enrolled in community college on her own and she’s gonna rock it. She let me know coincidently after I’d realized the night before that community college was the biggest gift in my life. I’ll explain more when the blog’s about me.

It’s about her. Her whole life she had to constantly remind me it’s about her. Her whole life I screamed why does it always have to be about her.?!

To be honest, I often imagined my baby was the baby Jesus, and it’s my purpose to sacrifice, take pain, for this greatness that will be revealed beyond my dreams. I know my job is not to make her into what I want, but maybe to make sure she wants the right things. I try my best to understand where she’s coming from.

I remember she asked me if it’s weird that she’s never had a boyfriend and I was honest. I didn’t really have anyone to pattern a relationship off of and so I’m pretty awkward with boys and socially overall. I tell her how I chose her father because I knew his strengths complimented my weaknesses. He could show her how to fit in. I show her how to stand out.

No matter how much trash we talk, I let her know the birthdays and celebrations that made her life so special originated with her dad. He taught me Christmas should be big and full of presents. He bought her Gucci sandals on her Sweet 16th. No matter what, we make her Birthday great.

This year we don’t have hot water…yet. I’ll never be able to deny that hardship.

But those cold showers took me to work to get a bag just in time. I slipped $100 in her pocket to get her nails done. I sent her with my debit card, like a blank check, to self-pay at the renowned dermatologist. She's black and amazing and booked till April, but I made it happen. Her dad pissed her off when he didn’t keep his promise to help with her hairstyle, but to avert my character of ungratefulness, I reminded her he got her the newest iPhone yesterday. He did it in revenge, to separate from our family phone plan. It’s a strong and timely symbol of our separation. All 3 of us will be self-sufficient.

So I came in the house and I exclaimed that this would be the first birthday she spent midnight outside the house. I took off the dog’s leash and tried to remember what time after 10am she was born. I always feel like it’s 23, but I know that’s just cause it matches her birthday, and it’s probably 29. I tell myself I’ll go find her birth certificate tonight and confirm. I keep hers and mine together, in a laminated binder insert. Mine is tattered and white with Jamaican immigrant parents. Hers is new and purple and blue. My address is her great-grandmother’s house. She was born to a mom in shackles.

But I’m free now. Before her dad I was also free. I was 18. I can’t remember exactly how I was. I know I was somewhere between highschool and my freshman year at college. I know I didn’t have anyone to depend on really. But I also know I learned to party!

So I tell her I’m not gonna text her happy birthday at midnight, but at her real time of birth because she’ll be getting shouted out at the club. Being the loyal daughter that she is, she says no, she’ll answer. Insecurely, she says no one will be shouting her out. I tell her her friend should tell the DJ, but then I remembered me at 18. I said, nah, YOUgo up to the DJ and whisper in his ear that it’s your birthday today and what song you wanna hear. Make sure they know.

Yeah, I remember 18 a lil.


Letters Live: Andrew Scott (Read 4)

The Sherlock and Bond actor dramatizes radical artist Sol LeWitt’s advice to sculptor Eva Hesse: Link to Video on Nowness


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