Snow Globe Prose
No bullshit, right? I’ve spent this past month as a tiny figurine, circling the inside of a snow globe; trying to find my way back to everything I’ve built after being shook senseless— over and over again. Countless moments of confusion, but moments of absolute certainty as well. Tears, sorrowful and joyful alike. Laughter— a lot of the kind that keeps you from crying, but the kind that reminds you of life’s incomparable beauty, too. Accepting change. Giving grace whilst changing. Mourning what has gone and celebrating the births of new beginnings in all that has changed. Over and over again. Life— living through the turbulence, finding my way back as the snow settles…
You ever think about how many versions of yourself have had to die, for you to become who you are at this very moment? How we are always adapting, always evolving— forever works in progress? You ever think about how much pain you’d spare yourself if you were suddenly aware of all the things that are within your control, and all the things that just… aren’t? Who would you be then, with all that awareness?
Months ago, a therapist [an older, much wiser Black woman, I must add] told me,“Fear and faith cannot live in the same heart.” Me being me, I needed it permanently inked. Why? Because she fashioned an anchor out of nine words. Because the blizzards that usually became breakdowns, started to become breakthroughs instead. Working with her to figure out the basis of my anxiety, I realized how much my fear of the unknowns of life [the future, other’s opinions of me, the many effects of systemic racism— the list is endless] had been crippling me; the fear of not being in control. She brought faith into our conversations, not in the religious sense, but that confidence/complete trust needed to move forward and make life-changing decisions. I am recognizing being young and in control for the blessing that it is, especially on the days when newfound independence and responsibilities have me feeling so run down. Having faith in myself, confidence in the fact that I’m forever writing my story as I go, learning from my mistakes, changing my mindset/perception of life’s ups and downs, understanding my inevitable evolutions— all that I can control. Faith in myself to move forward cannot exist in this same heart with the fear that will keep me stagnant.
So, I stepped out on faith. It wasn’t the first time I’ve had to; but this time the risks were much greater. Note to self: There will always be greater risks. Step out anyway. I quit my 9-5 as an administrative assistant back in August, after realizing how living in fear wouldn’t get me any closer to my purpose. Working for others in a field I wasn’t interested in, basically giving all of my time and energy to assist others in their passions, brought me further away from my own, time and time again. A leap needed to be taken; mental health had to be prioritized, many people, places, and things needed to be left behind. Here I am in November, officially a freelance writer, also a contributing writer for a site that prioritizes Black voices, with a couple of commissions under my belt. Blessed beyond measure, after so many times I thought I’d never see the day. Holding onto faith with every unexpected shake, steadying myself as the snow settles. Forward. Rest. Forward. Rest. Forward. Rest. No turning back.
