Black Girl: As Is

Writer. Creator. Shapeshifter.


Today felt like The Cranberries.  I woke up with the sun on my face and cramps in my belly.  When I got up for my morning tinkle I became aware of my entire body. I was sore from top to bottom.  Especially bottom. I've been going to the gym, but let me be clear, I've been walking in the gym.  No running.  No squatting.  No jumping.  Walking.  Yesterday, I decided to kick it up a notch. 

Yesterday Morning: "I've been walking 3.5 miles, why not 4?  Why not try it with some hills?  It's only walking.  Surely, walking is good.   Let's speed it up a little.  Walking is good but speed walking is better.   Let's get a good sweat.  This is the shit your body loves."

This Morning:  "Oh Bitch.  Girl.  I don't know what you think this is.  I don't know who you think you are. You better get up on this heating pad and stop playing."

EVERYTHING hurt.  My skin hurt.  I am not exaggerating when I say this.  It's sometimes hard to explain invisible illness, particularly when pain itself can be so immeasurable.  But it feels like a peach must feel, delicate and susceptible to bruising.  As I walk my epidermis tremors and screams.  I can not exist without injury.  It's annoying.  I look over at The Lady and she smiles.  She pulls out the L and she lights it before she's fully opened her eyes.  I light the Palo Santo.  She tells me I need to listen and lectures me about overdoing it in the gym.  I puff up my chest and explain how I've walked more miles in New York and how I want to be running and how I used to do so much more and.....and.....and I can't even front.  Even my reasoning hurts.

The Lady tells me that I absolutely used to do all those things and that's how my broke down ass ended up in the hospital and that's why my raggedy ass is laid up next to her now. Word.  I have always pushed myself past my physical limits and I've always paid a price for it.  I conceded.  Then I bled all over the sheets.  Because clearly, my ass needed more humbling.  I showered as The Lady changed the WHITE sheets.  I winced as the water rained slaps all over, I exhaled as the warmth soothed my cramps.  Pleasure and pain all booed up.

It's a difficult thing being cloaked in unpredictability.  I can not say with any certainty what my body's capabilities are on any given day.   I can not say how well I will function.  My body works so hard to protect me that it consistently beats my ass.  I appreciate its moxie but I wish it had some chill.  I'm trying to quit control.  The illusion of it comforts me but that muthafukka is cowardly.  It ain't shit. Whenever I really need it, it just kind of shrugs and runs the other way. I know I deserve better but old habits die hard.  



I'm learning to lean into living in the moment and I'm anxiously anticipating wonder and spectacle.  I got a fortune cookie this week that said "Your willing heart will help you achieve the impossible."  This day, sitting upright, going outside and breathing fresh air feels impossible.  Let's hope it wasn't jivin.