Independence Day knows what it wants. It begs for beer and greasy food slop, sweating, hot and drunk, bathing in skin cancer and shouting obscenities. And that’s cool. I like it more for the metaphor.
I found my independence, or at least some baby-form of it, just a couple years ago. I was in the vice grip of illness. No way was I about to take care of myself. And then, support came. With diligence and TLC from loved ones, I bounced back. Out of the rubble that I was buried under, the plague of silence that my mind begged for, I came out of that ash and spoke.
Living alone was difficult. But it brought me out of my empty shell. It sounds counterintuitive; yes, I was very lonely. Even around people who “get me.” The hard work came from introducing myself to me, my personality, my morals and values. Without a voice, I lost myself. Independence woke me up from my Sleeping Beauty slumber and returned my soul, mind, and voice to its proper place in my heart.
I am not independent.
Yeah, so I am not independent. But I am getting there. I’m working on my life from every direction. And I won’t slow down. This is the lessen I learned for myself. It’s vital to feeling accomplished and successful. It doesn’t have to be some big atomic thing. A small step, and a mindful next move, each-and-every-day spent wholly, I’m learning what I want in life and continuing to move toward it.
I believed in myself again.
I told myself, no more. Not the way it is anymore. I wanted to return to the old me. The old me was not there. And I’m glad. Because I believed in the real me that I found. Anyone who truly knows and loves me would agree. Old me was not me. It was a hollow shell. I believed I would learn who I was if I let go of the pain, the attachment I had to the voices in my brain, and no longer shoulder all the blame.
It came and there’s no more shame. I will never lose my optimism. I believe in myself. And I believe in any woman who gets torn down, and gets back up. Wipe the fucking dirt off, and give me your hand. Because you know I will be there to pull your ass up if you need help. That’s the real American Woman.
xoxo, God bless, America,
I am not Jasmine, I am Aladdin. — Nicki Minaj