Hey all … welcome back to my pink room!
Grab a seat, get comfortable we might be here for a little while. So once again I played myself and I honestly thought one day would be enough time to collect my thoughts and continue our investigation into the roots of Pink Valley District.. but turns out I was wrong. So we will put Pink Valley on hold and I will just share some raw thoughts I have and been thinking through tonight.
This week has been a pretty hard week for me. This summer, I started giving myself and my body for really the first time permission to just feel. I let my body feel light with joy in response to stupid things like a really good teen drama I had watched. But I also gave my body permission to feel heavy and achy with overwhelming grief. I gave my body permission to bubble with laughter and enjoy the beauty of friendship even if the world was on fire. I gave my body permission to be nauseous with terror and dizzy with anger. In other words, this summer I decided to give my body permission to be a human body.
But that came and comes with consequences. I can’t fight my body. No matter whether or not I say to myself or others that I am okay or well, my body will not lie to me. And that was especially true, this summer. I couldn’t wish away my trauma because I felt it. I felt heavy like stone instead of flesh. And so it just didn’t matter what my plans were for that day because they were just not going to happen.
And I guess since the summer and into the fall I have tried to wield my pain, my passion, my anger and even my joy into projects. I got a little taste of college activism, and have been in enough vacuous conversations with administration for a life time really. I have spent hours in uncomfortable conversations about white supremacy, racism and my own pain… as you might imagine some were more productive than others. I started writing more poetry. I have a blog now. I had found many more outlets than just aching I had grown acquainted to in summer months but yet I was and am not healed.
And that has been the hardest part. No matter how eloquently I can talk about racism or not, it doesn’t change the fact that I am broken. There are pieces of myself that are missing and I not sure if I will ever find them. I think you could say in one way I am searching for some kind of medicine or cure lost in all the theory, blogging, conversations, board meetings and unsolicited ranting. But it eludes me ever time. Because I realize that understanding the pain does not alleviate it. Understanding the brokenness does not repair it. I think at my core I just want to be whole.
I am angry that anger is the only thing that I have to call my own. The only property that I can own. I am tired that fear knows me so intimately that we might as well be lovers. I am heartbroken that I have come to use the word trauma and traumatize as. if it were my own name.
And I guess this week I really felt the weight of carrying a body and a soul that is shattered. I felt it in my rage. Rage against teachers without empathy who act on premeditated plans to destroy the bodies of those I love. Rage against administrators who simply remain indifferent. I felt it in my grief. Grief that no matter how much I read I couldn’t save my beautiful back and soul breaking weight of living under white supremacy.
And so I guess the question of healing comes up naturally because I want to know how do I actually heal. How do I heal from 21 years of wounds while simultaneously navigating the daily and present bombardment against my humanity, wholeness and wellness?
And sadly I have not come to any answers quite yet. But I do think that my healing only starts when I acknowledge that I am not required to hurt. I am not required to be broken. I am not responsible for saving the world if it cost me my own life. And most of all I can in fact heal because in essence I must heal.
That’s all I got folks… thanks for joining me for some of my late night musings. I hope to see you back here in the pink room on Monday to jump back into the roots.
Have a great weekend … till then!
From the Pink Room 