After years, months and Sundays of procrastinating, I finally went to get a passport. No, I don’t have an international flight on deck (yet), but it will be nice to be ready when the time comes. I never knew how sexist and/or racist the process could be. My passport photos that I politely paid $15 at Walgreen’s were rejected because my shoulders were showing. Really, America? So, I had to pay an additional $10 for new photos and listen to the agents debate about my hair in the pic. (It’s wild, big and natural.) Later, she explained to me that they (America) have been rejecting some natural hair girlies because “their hair was blocking their face”. Luckily, she gave me the green light and proceeded with my application.
Right now, I am home for Christmas break and it feels glorious to read, watch TV, watch endless episodes of Law and Order: SVU. My house is clean, the laundry is almost complete and my shopping list is finished. Dinner is cooked and the dishes are washed. God is good.
School has started and I am exhausted.
I wish I would have kept up with my walking and practicing my sign language.
I was up to 9 miles a week and I was teaching my hubbie sign.
Now I collapse on the couch with my eyes rolled backwards and today I practiced the alphabet.
Two steps forward and one step back.
Still waiting for my husband to go back to work. The spirit of unemployment is alive and well in this house. The savings account dwindles by the week. I’ve already decided which bills I’m not going to pay.
I’m having visions about exploring a new career field, but don’t feel secure about it because of my husband’s instability? Logic tells me to shut the fuck up and be grateful I have a job with benefits. Ethos tell me to spread my wings and to shoot for the stars.
Staying positive while broke is turning into some type of mental gymnastics. I throw myself at work while ignoring the countless bill calls and account alerts. In the back of my mind, I feel the thoughts creeping forward. I crush those thoughts and try to be optimistic, but it is hard. Right now, my gas tank is on E and my spiritual tank is 3/4 full.
I am alive and healthy. I have a loving husband who adores me. A family who supports me and likes having me around. A couple of kooky friends. A job that provides me with benefits and time off during holidays. Life could be worse. But it could be better.
Gratefulness. Patience. Understanding. I repeat these words to myself because I need to remind myself what I am lacking.
As a teacher, I instruct students how to read and analyze texts while challenging their thoughts, ideas and beliefs through discussion, projects and media. Shaping a young mind is important. As the school year passes, I wonder if I did a good job. Was I fair to everybody? Was I good role model? Should I revise a lesson?
Good teachers care and constantly want to grow. But there is one feeling that cannot be described: hearing that piercing bell on the last day of school and watching students run down the hallway. This year, I raised my hands to God and gave Him thanks because it is stressful, exhausting and draining to be a hand in someone’s education while juggling conferences, overdue bathroom breaks and the endless of fuckery of the state.
As I watched the children run to their fabulous cruises, adventurous road trips and late night facetime conversations, I visualized my childfree summer of book reading, wine sipping and bingewatching Criminal Minds. I always knew I would be childless and I am okay with it. I truly enjoy my life as it is now. I don’t feel ’empty’ or ‘incomplete’. My husband and I are a family because I can choose my definition of a family.
As an intersectional feminist, I support all women’s decisions for their own lives. After all, you are the one taking residency in your body. I wish society can understand that children aren’t a requirement for a woman especially if she’s black, married and young. Children are a blessing to those who treat them as such. But I believe blessings can be in many forms like coming home to a quiet house after a long day’s work, being able to travel at a moment’s notice and not having to live up to the impossible standards of being a supermom.
South Beach will be my life in ten days.
I have 4 1/2 days until school is out for summer.
I spend my work days making lists of shit I want to do, make, buy or visit. My students pretend to read the book that I have no interest in teaching or discussing. Today, I bought ash gray platform heels to go with my black jumpsuit. The price was phenomenal: $11.90. I couldn’t pass it up. So, I just wait and wait and wait…
Isn’t that what life is made of? Waiting for the good days to come while wishing the bad ones go away…