Tell the Truth, Meeks.

If you know me, scratch that, if you’ve spent even 15 minutes with me then you know I like to tell stories.  Not lies, just facts from my life.  I’m an open book for real.  If I haven’t shared one of my stories with you, I was either over it/you, too sick or beyond tired, I really just don’t like you (sorry not sorry), you took up all the space per usual about nothing significant (which is probably why I don’t care for you), or it’s a bland work-based relationship where we talk about the weather.  So yeah, my 36 years have been FULL, I have a vivid and detailed memory, and I’m social AF; a perfect marriage for my musings, right?  I can listen to a song or smell the less pissy NY streets after a springtime rain and be telecommuted to that time when such and such square-jawed boy took the Nintendo controller from me at after school and beat Super Mario Bros. in one play because he knew all the cheats.  Or remember one of the many moments my Dad jumped and waved on Eastern Parkway, screaming “oh gosh” for Labor Day Carnival in all denim; probably the same day I milked two pairs of name brand kicks out of him for being absent daddy on a regular.  So yeah, I’m not one for holding in a moment if compelled and I like to share with my people.

With all my jabbering, there’s still a lot I don’t share: my fears, failures and hangups. These wack ass things that prompt self-doubt and shame.  I’m stuck here often because I’m human and the instant success culture we subscribe to, even before the internet and selfies, tells me to hold it inside and let no one in.  My ego says, “Only share the stories that inspire, that make them gag, make them envy or congratulate you, that won’t let them truly know you and hold you”.  So I don’t share my dreams often, not because they’ll be stolen or I’ll be beaten to the punch, but because I don’t want anyone holding me accountable to bringing them into fruition.  Why?  Because what if I fail?  I low-key self deprecate all the time by stifling these truths, these stories.  I rarely talk about the times I feel inept in jobs, relationships, or how that time standing at the board doing a math problem in elementary school shook me for at least a decade.  How I’m afraid of my power and my weakness and instead mask it through jokes, violence or bravado.  Or when that low moment sank to the point that taking pills or dying inadvertently through classic hood riskiness seemed inevitable because the pain was too much in my home, or in my mind.

Writing about this now fucks me up a little.  How could I post something that will open up my fragility to the masses, people I don’t even know?!  I must be buggin’.  But it’s time to get free y’all and stay there!  More than ever before I have chosen to walk in my calling that was prophesied eons ago by elders and angels and it feels so right.  So I can’t stay mute any longer on where I’m at and what I need.  On what reeks and what ails. This is cliché, but I really am on the precipice of greatness and since we’re all connected, affecting one another, it means you are too, which is another reason to testify!  Every day that I’m present with all I feel and know about myself and the world, being still and in my truth, I am stronger, less afraid and awake.  I am more healed and more unstoppable.  In these moments my vulnerability is not a weakness.  On the contrary.  It’s a gateway to splendor and newness; wholeness.  In these moments, I welcome the tears that flow without pause and the smile that follows.  In my profession and in my life I’m fortunate to be the anchor for many, the voice of blunt options and deep questions that allow for introspection, healing and transformation.  I am grateful for this gift from the Creator, despite how much it zaps my energy when I’m not careful.   Think, though, of the many times we provide wellness for others and forsake ourselves.  Stupidly common, right?  So through indignant self-awareness and speaking truth to myself about all of it — not just the shiny parts, or the parts I’ve mastered, but the parts I’ll probably muck up for years to come, because again, I’m human — I’m able to replenish, repair and grow.  And ironically or not, it enables me to serve, which is one way I show up in this world. Hence, my stories, me.  It’s not easy and it hurts into my core more than I care for, but it’s great tapping into that muscle memory because I’m proof of the work and the reward.

So what stories do you need to share?