Don’t Let Them Steal Your Joy
Last Wednesday I turned 32 years old.
Last week as communities “celebrated” the guilty verdict for #TheMurderingCopWhoseNameDontBelongInMySpace, we suddenly mourned the loss of Ma’Khia Bryant.
Needless to say, I felt… off and awkward. Thankfully though, I happened to be in Las Vegas where I could shut out the real world for a few more days and spend some time recentering myself.
But if I can be truthful, I still felt so weird. I’m having mimosas at a pool while people, my people, were out protesting. Out of touch much? Did I look like a self absorbed prick? Who gives AF about my birthday when real life is happening.
Well, I do. This was my first birthday without Jerry and to say I was anxious about how I would be feeling was an understatement. But on my birthday morning I woke up, went to the pool, had a therapy session, one client call, and went back to the pool. As L (my therapist) an I discussed, I fought really hard to get to April 21 and I 100% deserved joyful moments that made me happy. The grief and healing interstate is windy and I absolutely needed that joy factor.
If there’s anything I’ve learned as a Black woman in the US, it’s that our joy will always try to be snatched but we have to fight to keep it. We have to protect our mental by any means necessary. We need to find the good moments in some particularly crappy bouts of days in order to stay sane.
I am so glad I took not one, but two, trips to bring in 32. I’m still 100+ texts deep because the messages of love make me cry like a punk, I get overwhelmed, so I put my phone away. I am certainly “people rich” and blessed to see this year.
We owe it to the ones we have lost to life a rich and full life. We cannot take the blessing of another day in vain. Life is way too short to let anyone try to steal your joy.
