Why do people think I need their condolences because my hair is short now? “Oh, it’ll grow back. Don’t worry.” No. You don’t worry. I’ll be bald for the rest of my life and be perfectly fine with it. People need to start embracing the beauty in the meantime. You know, between time. Excuse me for being content.
I have grown to hate this virtual world I have been subjected to, and I want nothing more to do with it.
I have been missing the sounds of inhalations, the subtle feeling of heart beats, fingertips, contact, facial expressions body language, and LAUGHTER not reduced to “
Lol and LMAO” . I so vehemently miss reality.
I want to walk backwards into a world of disposable cameras with 27 photo slots available- where filters are used strictly by professionals and every reflection is not perfected and posed for.
I do not want to be text messaged for an entire day and have it deemed communication. Because it is certainly not. I want to sit in the presence of a human, watch his nervous habits, receive his candid answers to my questions- not the spell checked, backspaced, edited ones. I want to be real and unfiltered and imperfect for someone. I want my facial features studied in the flesh. I want LIVE, in person, interaction- the kind you can’t edit or delete.
I want to watch someone LAUGH THEIR ASS OFF. I might just fall in love.
I have been missing the sounds of sneezes and coughs, the feeling of facial hair rubbing against my cheeks, interlocked fingers… lips, and eye contact. I want to show my friends what a man did without providing them a screenshot. I want to stand up, lean forward, grab a hand or a face and imitate real actions that occurred- actions that flowed from a brain to a heart, through veins and limbs and muscles and SKIN.
Goodness. I miss skin.
I want my naps played in. I want to be invited to survey art and drink sweet wine. I want my calloused, guitar fingertips kissed. I want to talk, with my mouth and not my fingers. I want authentic faces provided to me, not by way of photo or FaceTime. I want laughter and heartbeats and sneezes and coughs and fingertips and touching and facial expressions and the language of the body and connections and interlocked fingers, and fitting into the nooks and crannies of another human’s body and skin and bones and muscles and flesh and imperfections. And reality.
Here’s some more of my ugly truth. Enjoy!
This morning, I caught myself scheming and strategizing on how I could walk blatantly backwards into a situation that gave birth to pain, insecurity, unworthiness, and depression in my life. Why would I want to do such a thing you ask? Well, I’m trying to figure that out too.
I have kept my own self from healing time after time after time. I always find a beautiful, magnificent space, I feel God in me, I begin to fall in love again, with Him, with myself. Then I start searching. I start searching for some THING, some ONE- someone to make me feel warm, someone to talk to, a presence to feel. I will tolerate arguments, infidelity, disrespect, dishonor and all kinds of other forms of negativity, as long as someone is there. THAT, my friends, is the fear of being alone.
I meditated and communed with my creator this morning. I needed help with understanding why I willingly walk into relationships that always end in me being broken and again, having to face my fears. So I meditated. Meditation is such a beautiful thing. It reveals so much to me. I began to understand that my actions were reflections of misconceptions- misconceptions about my value.
In my mind, I saw myself taking a test- one that I had studied really hard for and put my absolute best foot forward. I had turned it in and walked out of class knowing full well that I aced it. Now, if I got the test back and saw a big “47%” written on it, I would schedule a meeting with my professor, look into the answers I got wrong, search for the TRUTH on why I failed. I would fight the bad grade because I knew it wasn’t a reflection of my effort. I would fight it because of my belief that I didn’t deserve deserve that grade. Now, if I had totally disregarded the test, put no effort into passing, not studied the material, showed up and played eenie, meenie, minie, mo on the scantron and THEN gotten an F, I would chalk that loss up, because I knew I deserved it.
God began to show me that I was like the unconcerned test taker- that I accepted failing grades in love because in my subconscious, I genuinely believed I deserved them. In my heart, I had been deceived about what I was worth, about what I deserved. The truth is that until one gets an unshakable reality of their worth, they will always tolerate dishonor, search for more and come up short.
Today, I refuse to accept anything short of love. I’m honoring myself. I’m embracing the fact that I was created in the image of GOD, lacking nothing. I’m actively and consciously believing that I deserve the best. I’m voting for me.
Note to self:
You attract, accept, and pursue what you believe you deserve. Perhaps it’s time for a brand new and accurate perspective of your true self.
I almost let fear win just a few moments ago.
I was caught in the hustle and bustle of the transition from school to work, changing from my regular clothes to my teacher uniform, setting up my classroom, returning calls. I had been in a phenomenal mood all day. I had a homemade veggie juice. I made sure there was extra celery included because it makes me high :). A phenomenal mood was I in.
Perhaps I was moving too fast. I somehow started thinking about her, that girl that he chose over me. I felt that I had loved him, vehemently- that I had put my very best foot forward. I felt like I had fought to the end and been left on a battlefield, bleeding profusely from my chest- defeated. I started thinking about the pictures I had seen of her. Were her legs prettier than mine? Her curl pattern more defined? Her hair healthier? Her butt and boobs bigger? (probably so , skinny Charity) .
I began wondering how he had the NERVE to chose HER over ME. I panicked, like scared people do. The feeling in my stomach was moments away from sending him a long emotional text, email, something. But I stopped, and I honored my commitment. I breathed deeply for about one minute straight. I asked myself what I was feeling. I immediately answered myself- unworthiness. In that moment, I felt the most divine presence consume me. I asked it for the truth and in my heart, I felt GOD reply, “I am the only being whose actions toward you are a reflection of your identity, value or worth.”
The truth is the force that dismantles fear. It’s that simple. Peace swept over me like a hurricane.
Not sure I’ve ever been this transparent. I’m inviting you to follow me on a journey of saying farewell to fear.
A tweet appeared on my timeline from Iyanla Vanzant (a woman who from thousands of miles away, through words on pages, tweets or time on television has greatly assisted me in my healing process) that said, ” You have been chosen to lead others out of a fear-based lifestyle. Let your life inspire others to live the truth of their being.” Certainly this was a general tweet that applied to anyone who ever struggled with and defeated fear, but this tweet was for ME. It hit home.
Here is my truth, I am Charity Ward, a third year Early Childhood Education/ Music major at Wayne State University, an extended learning director at a Southfield, Mi school, a well-known singer, song-writer and guitarist in Detroit, Mi, a genuine best friend to about 4 girls and a relentless lover and I am TERRIFIED. Fear took root in my heart when I was 15 years of age. I remember the exact moment, the thoughts it sent to my brain and the emotions it sent to my heart. From that moment, I have perpetuated unhealthy cycles through romantic relationships that I entered with the subconscious desire to be loved, to be wanted, to gain a sense of security and to no longer be afraid.
God has been relentless in His pursuit of my heart. He has made countless attempts at getting me alone, all to Himself, getting to the core of me and uprooting this fear that has governed my reality. I ran from Him on every occasion. Every single time my comfort zone was obliterated, I knew it that was time again for me to put in the work and heal. To reach back into my 15 year old self, into every tragedy that terrified me of being alone again and to allow God to infiltrate every inch of my existence.
At this moment, I have become exactly that which I fear and I have nowhere to run. I am surrounded by myself- forced to accept my unfortunate and ugly truth, forced to heal. I’m alone, and I’m healing. I have never stayed engaged in the process that terrifies me long enough to dismantle the fear that rests at the core of it. It’s like being afraid of roller coasters, but getting on and remaining on long enough to see the 90 degree drop ahead, enduring that turtle-like process and every torturous clicking noise that indicates what is to come, but always finding a way out before that first drop, always yelling like a maniac and convincing the operator to bring the cart back home, getting off and never staying engaged long enough to come to the realization that what I feared wouldn’t have killed me, or that I may have even enjoyed it.
Not this time, I’m down for the ride. I am a transparent vessel, yielded fully to God, sharing my process of saying farewell to fear. It is time for me to dismantle the vicious illusion that is fear. The illusion that has distracted me from the truth and given birth to doubt, lack and unworthiness. I vow to be still, to breathe deeply, to look inward and to tell myself the truth when I feel fear. I vow to tell myself that truth until it becomes my unshakable reality. I vow not to allow fear to govern my reality from this moment forward.
He didn’t just touch me. It was like he reached down in the pit of his soul, grabbed hold of the most divine love he was in possession of, pulled it through his gut, passed it through his joints, and forced it through his fingertips… onto me. And to think, I thought I had felt love before.
I just don’t want anyone telling me Beyonce can’t sing or any of that foolishness. Because she’s saving my soul here.
Get some of this young Stevie improving Soul Train style.
I’m back. Let’s blog.