The Fallacy of Isolation

I’m done lying to myself. I am not good. I am not fine. I am utterly and miserably exhausted. It feels like I am failing at everything. I am yearning for my old life while still trying to make sense of the whirlwind that we have all been experiencing for the past year.

It feels like I am watching my life pass me by. I could be working harder and doing more, but most of the time I really feel like I am doing my best. Then I see posts on Instagram saying you could do more if you wanted it bad enough, and I second guess myself. What do I want? Am I willing to do the work? But I’m tired...

My only connection to people is through my phone screen or Zoom where I quietly observe what could be if not for the pandemic, if not for the lack of time, and if not for my fear. I think about all the trips I could have taken to be with friends and family. Or how there is so much more of New York that I have yet to discover, and I see people doing these things, traveling and exploring, and I’m still so fearful of the virus. 

For the past year I have been forced to confront my mortality. I’ve had to attend wake services on Zoom. I’ve had to mourn the death of loved ones on my own. I’ve been grieving so many things for so long, and I am still so determined to fight for joy. In confronting my mortality and trying to uncover what I want this life to mean to me, I have been asking myself, “if I died today would I be proud of the life I have lived?”

In many ways I am so proud of who I’ve become and who I’m becoming. When I look back at younger versions of myself and all that she wanted, I’ve accomplished it all and so much more. But along the way, I realized that the dreams I had and the life I’m building don’t really feel like mine. Maybe I’m changing and my desires are evolving, but I want to be proud of my life. Not proud because I’m doing what is expected of me or what my parents believe is good for me. But a life that is in alignment with my very essence.

I did not realize how much fear had a hold on my imagination. When I began asking myself what my best life could look like, it looked like fitting in joy and squeezing in creativity to my current life. But that really wouldn’t be ideal. 

What if I could build my life from scratch? Where would I start? What would I want it to feel like? I ached for something more, something better. My spirit has been nudging me to believe in and for more. After I read Untamed by Glennon Doyle, I realized that the courage that I’m looking for comes from being brave enough to say yes to myself. What stuck with me is that, in order to build my best life… I have to get comfortable with the idea of disappointing others so as to avoid disappointing myself. I have gotten so used to disappointing myself that I don’t even know what I want.

Isolation has me praying desperately for the sun so that I can see the seasons change and remind myself that there is something to look forward to. The sun reminds me of newness and shines forth hope. It means I have an opportunity to figure out what it is that I want and spend some time dreaming about what I like. 

The isolation and darkness has felt a bit like being incarcerated. I feel like a prisoner of unspoken dreams and unsung aspirations, but out of this isolation I’ve made a promise to myself to sing sing sing. As hard as it is, I am no longer willing to wait. I am still exhausted, and I still do feel like I’m failing, but I am no longer going to fight these feelings. I am going to allow them to rise and pass, and honor myself by at least trying to make a way through this.

I will sing.

I will sing.

I will sing.

Knowing The Cold

As the years go on where I am not home, I have learned how to speak my own language that only I can understand. When people ask me how I am, I say, “I am cold.” Most people assume that I mean I am cold because of the weather, but in my own language that only I understand it means so much more. I am cold means that I am far away from myself. It is a reminder that I am not at home because my home is never cold. I am cold means that I am longing for something more; longer days, shiny blue skies, dancing on rooftops, and perhaps love. I don’t know how I learned to speak my own language, but one day I decided to listen to myself and I heard.

I do not enjoy anything about the winter despite what anyone has to say about it being the most wonderful time of the year. I wake up and it’s dark. I go to bed and it’s dark. Everyone moves slower so as to avoid upsetting The Cold. As if speed is an act of defiance. Maybe The Cold is misunderstood, but The Cold is always a reminder that I’m (stuck) in someone else’s home. 

I do not always feel stuck here per say. Being a visitor is a sweet feeling. People are eager to welcome you, show you around and if you are lucky things begin to feel familiar, less foreign. You create a new home. In my own language I say, “I am happy I am here.” This has an almost literal meaning, but it also acknowledges the gratitude I have to those who have made space for me to experience happiness. Even in a pandemic, where these spaces have felt limited and oftentimes fleeting I am happy I am here.

In The Cold there is a lot of silence. I used to be scared of silence because I was afraid my mind would conjure up all the things I had neatly tucked away for when I have the time. Somehow the silence used to knock these things over and throw them to the forefront of my mind causing me to sink. I thought the silence was punishing me, but it wasn’t the silence or The Cold. The silence was only responding to my inner call for help, and I was refusing to listen.

I decided to listen, one day, and I heard. In the silence, in The Cold, I heard a voice tell me to slow down and make time for those things I had neatly tucked away. Because in fact, there was nothing neat about them. It was a mess that I had to deal with, or it would subsume me. If I dealt with the mess, would Home still be Home? Could this new place be my Home?

I am happy I am here, in this place right now. I am happy I am here, alone and exhausted. I am happy I am here, cold and hopeful. Hoping to one day return to the Home I have in my memories, embellished with rhinestones and laughter. Hoping for the stickiness that comes from being consciously stuck. Isn’t that what it all is? We all want to belong in our Home? Only The Cold could have taught me this because when it is not cold I am granted permission to forget. But in The Cold, we remember.

I’m still here.

I’ve been thinking a lot about what I would post here. What would my first post of the year be? Would it be monumentous? Can I effectively capture all the joy and all the trauma the last 10 months? Do I want to do that? I don’t know what I want my first post of the year to be, so I will choose honesty.

I honestly believe that this year is going to be a very good year to me. I know this to be so true, and it excites me. I can believe this and still feel like the world is on fire. I’ve decided that life is weird and wonderful, and that life must be lived in the weird and the wonderful. I felt like I spent so much of my time last year waiting to live my life because I couldn’t live my life under the new terms and agreements we had all been given, but the truth is that I am alive. If you are reading this, you are alive too. That means that we should be living (whilst adhering to CDC guidelines on he-who-shall-not-be-named).

I am alive.

I am alive.

I am alive.

And I want to live well. So, I will be writing. I will be praying. I will be going on runs. I will be trying new recipes. I will do absolutely everything that I want to do. That is honestly, what I plan to do.

You Remind Me of Our Father

You remind me of our father

I know that is something that you thought I would never say

Or it’s something you thought you would never hear

But it is true

You tried so hard to run from him that you didn’t stop to see that you were running straight towards him

Now here we are

Adults in control of our own lives and paths

And here you are

A grown man with daddy issues

You remind me of our father

The way he used religion as a gun held to my temple whenever things would go wrong by no fault of my own

Or the way his left eye would twitch the same way yours does

When your wife disagrees with you in public

A pool of saliva would gather in the corner of your mouth

As you grind your teeth to stop profanities from escaping

I watch her head sink into her chest,

Her heart sink into her stomach because she knows what will happen next

I don’t so I can only imagine

You remind me of our father

In the best and worst of ways

You love your children profusely

And they will never doubt that

But they will grow up and wonder

How you could be a fantastic father and a horrible husband?

How you could love them and hate their mother?

You will tell them you don’t hate your wife

You will tell yourself you don’t hate your wife

But you don’t love her and you never did

You resent her

Whilst she breaks her back attempting tirelessly to please you

You remind me of our father

The way your stomach smiles over your belt

As you sit down on the rocking chair in your courtyard
Drinking stout with your friends

When you laugh your stomach jumps quickly

For a brief moment everyone around you feels alive

It is the only time anyone sees you happy

But it doesn’t last long

One bottle of stout turns into a whole crate

Before the children have even gone off to bed

They can hear you — belligerent and loud

Talking about your sexual prowess

With women who are not their mother

Have you no shame?

You remind me of our father

And I am not scared to tell you that

Because you are not my father

And you do not scare me

My only fear is that you die like him

With a family that resembles you

But with nothing good to say about you

With a family that trembles at your memory

And prays each day to find the strength to forgive

With a family that would have loved to love you

On Faith

You are quiet

Your arms are stretched on top of your head as you begin to pray

You do not believe in God

But in moments of distress you find yourself clamoring onto the hopes that He is real

You have seen me pray before

It makes you feel uncomfortable but you don’t say anything

You don’t understand

Before long tears start streaming down your face

Your bottom lip is trembling

Your arms come down over your chest

Then you are still

You open your eyes

And we meet

I don’t say anything because I know you

You will come to me when you’re ready

You come to me at night

Your eyebrows look rough as if you have been thinking very hard

You tell me that God spoke to you

I smile

You tell me He told you to find peace in Him

You believe but you don’t understand

I tell you that is faith

Welcome home

Your Healing Will Come in Waves

Sometimes depression will wake you up

On the warmest of days

Just as you begin to enjoy the cool breeze against your skin

It will suddenly suffocate you

You will close your eyes and try to dissociate yourself from it

But it is inside of you

You have tried running from yourself before

Only to find more of yourself in all the wrong places

At the bottom of a wine glass

Next to a body that doesn’t love you

In a country far from your home

But no matter where you run it always catches up to you

Because you never run away from something — or someone — that abuses you

They can afford to pay rent to your memories each month

They have the patience to slowly eat you away

But you will heal — I’m sorry — I have to say that to remind you

Even when your bones literally ache

You must remember to come back home to yourself

Your healing will come in waves

Anxiety will find new ways to hurt you

You will find yourself triggered by the memory of your mother’s voice

You take extra care to wash her away with your favorite R&B

But you begin to resemble her more with each passing day

You promise yourself you won’t make the same mistakes

So you don’t

You make news ones

Fresh ones, you’re breaking the generational curse — so you think

Yet the outcomes are wildly the same

You will soon learn new words

Have the vocabulary to explain this strange and painful phenomena

You will write poetry and prose that break you

And someone will tell you they can relate to your work

You’ll cry out of anger because no one should know your pain

But at least you are not alone

Your healing will come in waves

Your therapist will tell you it’s a journey and not a destination

You don’t pay her to tell you that

You will begin to savor the good days

Only journaling those which you enjoy

Maybe that way when looking back the pain will be a distant memory

Maybe that way you can really pretend you were happy

How To Be Alone

As someone who loves to be in control, this global pandemic has felt unnerving at times. Not only am I not in control, but no one has the answers to the questions that swirl in my head. How long will we be at home? When next will I see my loved ones? When will it be safe to return to life as we knew it? Will life be as we knew it?

Despite it all as an introvert, this time of social distancing has been restorative in many ways. Especially given the demands of my job and life in the Big Apple. It has also been chillingly lonely too. My roommate left our apartment in Brooklyn to go be with her family. I would have done the same too if I had the option, but here is where I find myself. I have had moments of utter despair where I’ve just wanted to be held, but I’ve had to hold myself and remember that this is only temporary.

Being alone is easier when it’s your choice. “Being alone doesn’t have to mean lonely,” I whisper to myself. But in this season where some of our only touchpoints are through screens and over the phone, I’ve come to appreciate the beauty of the community I have. Having lived away from my family for the 7th year and counting, I’ve (un)fortunately grown accustomed to missing celebrations and not being able to show up for people how I would prefer. But I know for many people, this is the first time they are really alone and it can be difficult to process. So here is my guide on how to be alone. These steps are in no particular order so take what is meaningful to you.

Step 1: Cry if you feel like it. We are experiencing an unprecedented global pandemic that no one alive has ever lived through. Cry because even though you may feel you might not be able to piece yourself back together, you will. You are resilient.

Step 2: Shower/bathe/wash your face. Allow the water to rush over you and cleanse your spirit. I believe any experience can be a spiritual experience, and you can emerge out of your shower utterly renewed and ready to begin again.

Step 3: Wear absolutely whatever you want to wear. Most days I wear sweatpants and comfy tops, but today I decided to put on a wig, beat my face, dress up and I feel good. I still wear perfume every day because I love how I smell and I get to enjoy that for myself. You do not need permission or an occasion to get dolled up if that’s what you want to do. If you need permission, I am giving it to you.

Step 4: Exhale fully. Drop your shoulders and unclench your jaw. You cannot bear the world on your shoulders. You are not in control, and it sucks. Somehow it feels like the world has stopped, but you are spinning. See step 1.

Step 5: The internet will become a great friend. You have the time to catch up with friends you may not have spoken to in a while. You can watch all the shows and movies you have had on your list. You can make TikTok videos with your friends, and then re-watch them and laugh to yourself. The internet is a tool for connectivity — so you don’t have to feel alone.

Step 6: This might be controversial… but rest. Sleep, sleep and sleep some more. Sleep allows your body to rejuvenate and reset. It will not change what is happening outside, but it will give you the energy to deal with it all.

Step 7: Do not text him. Do not call him. Do not reply to his DMs. He wasn’t worth it pre-corona and he certainly is not worth it now. Choose yourself.

Step 8: You have a lot to be grateful for. You may feel defeated, but there is always victory on the other side. Get some paper and a pen, writer down all the things that are still true.

I am kind.

I am beautiful.

I am a daughter.

I am a sister.

I am valuable because I exist.

I am creative.

I am a good friend.

Read it back to yourself out loud. Even a pandemic cannot change these things.

Step 9: While the internet allows us to connect, you need to know when to unplug. I cannot tell you when that is — I haven’t quite figured that out myself. But you will know when you need a moment to yourself. Get out a notebook and journal. Your thoughts will not feel so nebulous when they are out of your head and on paper.

Step 9b: Get into The Word and pray. God has been desperate for our attention for so long. He wants us to draw closer to Him. He can give you the peace you are looking for if you let Him work on your heart.

Step 10: Believe it or not, we are all creative beings. This can be the time for you to pick up old (or new) hobbies. You can write, paint, draw, sing, or dance. You can try all the recipes you’ve never had the time to. You can learn a new language or how to code. You can try out that puzzle you’ve never attempted to do. This isn’t necessarily your next side hustle unless you want it to be. But allow your soul to shine through and out of you.

Being alone looks different every day, and while we do not know when it will come to an end I have a lot of faith that there is a lot to be taken from this season. I’ve chosen to see this solitude and time as a gift. It will be a metamorphosis, and I will (hopefully) emerge feeling whole and as passionate as ever to be alive and living.

Let’s Stop Saying We’re Okay, Shall We?

I am so guilty of doing this. When I'm going through something or having a bad day my friends have to literally pry it out of me, and I'm so thankful for the patience but why do I do this? It's like an automated response:

Friend: How are you doing Alexa?

Me: I'm fine.

Me to me: Girl, why are you lying?

I constantly feel like I have to apologize for my emotions. Like they're too burdensome to share with my friends. If your friends make you feel like your emotions are a burden... are they really your friends?

So, I'm not okay actually. I am emotionally and physically exhausted. I feel like I'm being pulled in a lot of directions with my school work, extra curricular activities, the organizations I run and work with. I feel like I'm under pressure to create content here and post, but I don't want to scrimp on quality just to churn out posts.

However, I will smile throughout this process because I know that I am doing something and despite my fatigue I know that my hard work will pay off. Even if it does not pay off by of getting a 4.0 GPA or getting a million views on each blog post, I know that I am making an impact and I am learning and growing.

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I want to live an honest life. So I'm trying not to lie about how I feel anymore, and instead own it. Because if we are all being real with ourselves, we all have phases that aren't the most exciting and are in fact quite difficult and I believe true joy is being content with the entire process and not just the high points.

On days where you feel like you're angry and sad and you can't make sense of the world. You are normal and you are justified in those emotions. Where you feel like you can't seem to get it right, try again tomorrow. When you feel you are falling too short of perfection and you're not deserving of good things - you are enough and you deserve everything that life has to offer you. When you think you don't have the capability to love or be loved again, your heart is bigger than the pain.

It's okay not to be okay. I don't think I can say that enough.

Psalm 30:5 Weeping may endure for the night, but joy comes in the morning.