A reflection on buddhism, black womanhood, and saggy boobs
Boy, oh boy, has this past year felt like an emotional pubescence. Unemployed, financially bottomed, moved back home, in-family crisis, completely unhealthy, transitioning out of a dear relationship. That was my start to 2018 (#NewBeginnings, #NewYearNewMe). An acclimation of shit-things fell onto each other, the way buildings fall like Legos. Plumes of dust and then nothing.
I don’t enjoy listing out the challenges I’ve faced– I can hear a tiny violin playing a very sad song, or the Sarah McLachlan song playing in the background every time I do. Sympathy isn’t the reaction I’m going for but is usually the one I receive. I like talking about bad shit because it’s been my greatest teacher. Something about everything falling apart forces you to fall onto your knees, open; something about loss gives you a look at all the empty space and asks you what you’re going to do with all of that.Read More