Broken Glass (lens)

Sometimes, it is so hard for me to see the positive in myself. All that I have accomplished, especially since the rupture, and how much of a badass, cool-ass bitch I am.

More days than not, I am terribly mean to myself. Only acknowledging my faults and the things I am not good at. It is not too often I am seen praising myself.

You think I did a great job on that speaking engagement? Let me tell you why it was terrible.

You think this “thing” is my gift? Let me tell you why I’m not good at it.

You think I bring joy and laughter? Let me tell you why that is not possible because of my anxiety and depression.

You think I know what I am talking about? Let me tell you how I am second-guessing myself in this entire conversation.

I do not see the put-together woman people say I am. I see the girl who dropped out of college, who spent too many years in emotionally taxing relationships, who is single, who is without a job, who has anxiety, depression, and ADHD, who does not always remember things or get tasks completed, among MANY other negative traits.

I sat in therapy this evening, completely broken about how things have been for me the last two years since my ruptured brain aneurysm. My therapist so lovingly told me, “Jaleesa, you see your life through a broken lens. Nothing feels right because all you see is broken pieces.”

Nothing she said was earth-shattering, but it jolted me to wake the fuck up. In the sassiest voice I could speak, I quickly and vigorously said to myself, “Jaleesa, girl! Get your shit together!!!” (Yes, I used foul language. I’m a sailor’s mouth type of gal.)

Checking myself prompted me to write down how blessed and cool I am.

The glass may have been broken, but God delicately pieced it back together. Maybe the vision is not as clear and straightforward as you had hoped, but the glass's purpose still holds true—to hold the water, juice, liquor, or whatever your heart desires. You really are dynamic, my girl. I need you to start recognizing that.

Life is some tough and tricky shit many times, but that view shifts when you begin to recognize how blessed you are to still do life albeit with some accommodations, but "who gon’ check you, boo?"

Continue healing in peace and begin loving yourself out loud, like a bad bitch should.

So many reasons to smile