I'm all over the place today--maybe because it's day 9 of the Shelter in Place, maybe it's the New Moon in Aries, maybe it's all those things and a million more, maybe it's none of them (see what I mean??).
Last night I caught a glimpse of a scarf my Godmother sent me last year. She's an artist, an eccentric, a French Canadian, a mother and I've only met her one time. In the Catholic tradition your Godparents are the keepers of your spiritual and religious life. As I type this I'm hit by the fact that the keeper of my spiritual life is an artist. I don't think that's a coincidence. I pulled the scarf out of a pile, a swirl of blues and greens a replica of a painting she'd done printed onto textile. Her name is one of mine, my second middle name Sylvie. I don't really know her very much but she has continued to reach out my whole life. Sending me art, jewelry, little notes in her long script all in french. This scarf was the latest in a laundry list of items. I'd forgotten about it. I'd forgotten about my spiritual advisor. Maybe now is the time to remember.
This morning I did my morning pages, set my intentions, scrolled through Instagram and then settled down to check on my Grandma. She answered "Hello, Minnie!" I laughed thinking she was referring to all the Disney Parks content I've been sharing. Turns out she set my ringtone to a Mickey tune--that made me smile. After checking on the normal stuff, "What have you eaten today?" "Did you take your medicine?" We settled into talking about a project I had suggested to her a few days earlier. A project I've been wanting to start for years. "You tell me stories from your life and I'll write them down," I proposed. Today we talked names, of her parents, her grandparents, her siblings. She doesn't even have one picture of her mother who died when she was 12 back in 1953, just 3 years after my own mother was born. My mind raced at that fact, recalling the entire movie of "The Photograph," playing my own version in my head, my sojourn to Mississippi to find her mother's family--hoping to find just one picture of my Great Grandmother Camie Ducksworth who's name written on a little piece of paper with a drawing of a field of flowers hangs on the wall above my alter, watching over all of us. I'll find a picture of her one day, the woman who gave birth to 9 beautiful Black babies, 2 that didn't live at all and 7 that lived various lengths, 3 that still live today including my perfect Grandmother.
Tears are springing to my eyes when I write that. I'm humbled when I think of humans and the long line of other humans we are connected to, whether by DNA, love or a mixture of the two. Being mixed hurts in those moments. The moments when I realize I can call a white great aunt on my mom's side who has neatly done genealogy charts saved and ready to dive into going back generations to France. While the history of Black people I hold in my bones drifts off with the memory of the last one to know them--like the saddest part of Coco--they stop existing when we stop remembering them.
Today is the New Moon in Aries, the first sign of the Zodiac, the beginning of the astrological calendar, the beginning of a new moon cycle. And again I am reminded of cycles, I am reminded that energy is not created or destroyed, I'm reminded that we have been here before (in economic crisis, in social unrest, in a global health crisis) and we will be here again. The memory of the people that lived it all before us is in our matter. We are looking outside for so much, on the internet, to experts and I'm trying to look inside right now. I hope you are too.
Tuesday, March 24, 2020
Sunday, March 22, 2020
My love affair with #DisneyStyle
Hi friends! I wrote the piece below for a digital magazine back in September--never submitted it and thought I'd share it here. On Instagram I've decided to take part in Courtney Quinn's #ColorMeParkHopper challenge. An excuse for me to fill my feed with cute photos of me at various Disney locations. It's a goal in this time of no goals and another thing I can do to avoid writing my book!
Anyway--check it out if you want. I'll be posting pics every day through March 31st. I'm hoping the below piece can validate what some folks might be feeling right now: depressed, anxious, hopeless, scared while reminding us of the power that we have to give ourselves feelings of joy through imagination, story, music and art. We could all use a little magic right about now.
___________
Anyway--check it out if you want. I'll be posting pics every day through March 31st. I'm hoping the below piece can validate what some folks might be feeling right now: depressed, anxious, hopeless, scared while reminding us of the power that we have to give ourselves feelings of joy through imagination, story, music and art. We could all use a little magic right about now.
___________
It’s weird how depression puts a fog over things that you
don’t even realize was there until it’s gone. For the past year that’s how I
felt, like I was walking half asleep through a fog that was my life. I felt out
of control, I cried all the time and I couldn’t see a way out of it. I went to
therapy every week and ugly cried, my eyes swollen with the force of tears
rushing to my ducts faster than they could fall and make way for a new wave.
And then there were moments of joy, the way it comes like a tiny firefly in a
dark cave, just enough to quicken your heart, fill your soul with hope and
wonder. Of memories of a time when living wasn’t this hard or painful. But then
it would disappear just as quickly as it came, into a dark void. And then came
the concerned looks, the “are you okay?”s from acquaintances that don’t actually
care to hear the answer. People who I wasn’t ready to share the honest answer with
anyway. The worst of them came from people I loved, people who loved me. Those
questions were answered with a well of tears or a deep breath or the
exasperated shrug of someone who has run out of words to describe how not okay
they are.
And life goes on, you go to work, you make meals, you go to
birthday parties and watch your favorite shows and shower (once you realize
it’s been way to long since you’ve done that). In preparation for what I knew would be a difficult emotional year Mary and I bought annual passes to
one of our favorite places: Disneyland. I know what you’re thinking, the
monopoly, capitalist, sexist, racist company that has been taking our money
fueled be taking advantage of our emotional states. Yes, that one. We love it.
I could probably write a book about my love affair with Disneyland and Disney
in general but that is not this post so I’ll just have to ask you to trust that
there are good reasons and move along. These Disneyland trips peppered the year
with pre-scheduled whimsy. What would we do on these trips you might ask?
We put together outfits and we took pictures.
That is pretty much it and it was glorious.
We put together outfits and we took pictures.
That is pretty much it and it was glorious.
I’ve never been a big fashion girl. Raised by a practical
mother that prioritized comfort over trends and lives in a big body that makes
access to affordable fashionable clothes basically impossible, it was never
modeled. We didn’t have a lot of money growing up, but in that military family,
has a couple credit cards and military discounts, healthcare and housing-- kind
of way. I’d beg for Nike’s in September and get an on sale athletic pair (not
Jordans or anything actually cool) 6 months later on discount and on a credit
card. Then I'd be shamed for ever wanting them in the first place. That’s been my
style—things that I thought were cool and maybe were slightly off trend but
adjacent enough to not make me a total reject.
But when it came to these Disneyland trips—the outfits had
to be center stage!
It was a whole look from head to toe, including necessary changes sitting neatly folded in a rented locker (you gotta get the locker guys) for the inevitable SoCal nighttime drop in temperature. After the first trip it became increasingly clear that we needed more stuff!
More t-shirts, different bottoms, more purses, fanny packs, earrings!
And I know what you’re thinking—this is why Disney is the devil. But there was something exciting in it for me. When I put on those outfits I felt more like myself than I had felt in years. I was transported into my childhood self, still filled with wonder and hope and a deep belief in magic. I believed in Santa until like 12 and made up several theories as to why he was real and everyone else (including adults) were sorely mistaken. I was excited to dress for those days, to lay out all of my options and do a little fashion show with Mary & Erika the night before. The three of us figuring out how we might coordinate or even match (the dream!). I think my little 90’s baby gay heart pretty much exploded when on one trip we donned the same Mickey spaghetti straps and matching jean jackets with patches we had collected over our past trips (pictured below). I had my best friend and my best girl beside me and we were matching—this is the thing that 90’s teen movies are made of!
It was a whole look from head to toe, including necessary changes sitting neatly folded in a rented locker (you gotta get the locker guys) for the inevitable SoCal nighttime drop in temperature. After the first trip it became increasingly clear that we needed more stuff!
More t-shirts, different bottoms, more purses, fanny packs, earrings!
And I know what you’re thinking—this is why Disney is the devil. But there was something exciting in it for me. When I put on those outfits I felt more like myself than I had felt in years. I was transported into my childhood self, still filled with wonder and hope and a deep belief in magic. I believed in Santa until like 12 and made up several theories as to why he was real and everyone else (including adults) were sorely mistaken. I was excited to dress for those days, to lay out all of my options and do a little fashion show with Mary & Erika the night before. The three of us figuring out how we might coordinate or even match (the dream!). I think my little 90’s baby gay heart pretty much exploded when on one trip we donned the same Mickey spaghetti straps and matching jean jackets with patches we had collected over our past trips (pictured below). I had my best friend and my best girl beside me and we were matching—this is the thing that 90’s teen movies are made of!
It wasn’t too long until I brought that feeling home.
Wearing the jean jacket to work anytime I didn’t have important meetings,
lovingly clasping rose gold plated and cubic zercona Mickey earrings onto my naked
lobes. I had found the joy in dressing, in loving an aesthetic so much because
of how it makes you feel. And #Disneystyle (that’s what the bloggers call it)
made me feel light and happy. It made me feel like dreams could come true and if
you were kind and good, life would unfold beautifully in front of you with a
gold shining path and birds singing a song just for you. It’s a different kind
of armor. Protective in the way it lights up the parts of me that the world has
tried to beat out of me: the silly parts, the childlike parts, the part that
isn’t productive or self-sacrificing. And as I’m slowly coming out of the
depression fog it is still helping me. Helping me to feel confident and happy
so that I can meet whatever new challenge comes with childlike wonder and
curiosity. Because at the end of every Disney movie there is a HEA (Happily
Ever After) and although I know that life doesn’t work exactly like that, aren’t
we all moving towards those HEA moments? Those days, months or years (if we’re
lucky) that feel like we’re in the delightful time after the carriage rides off
in the sunset. We all deserve those moments—those of us surviving in
marginalized bodies even more so.
When I put on my patched jean jacket and my Mickey & Minnie earrings I feel that sense of HEA, even for a moment and I know I can go back to that feeling inside myself when things feel too big or hard or scary.
When I put on my patched jean jacket and my Mickey & Minnie earrings I feel that sense of HEA, even for a moment and I know I can go back to that feeling inside myself when things feel too big or hard or scary.
Friday, March 20, 2020
Equal Parts Light & Dark
It's the Spring Equinox. Right now.
I was reminded yesterday by my favorite astrologer Jaliessa Sipress that we are all on this spinning rock together waiting to die. Which is part "YIKES, too far!" and also "YES, PERSPECTIVE." I'm comforted by the cycles of nature. The way that Spring always comes no matter what. That the equinox gives us exactly the same amount of sunlight and darkness no matter where or what you are on this planet. What a metaphor in this very uncertain time. A metaphor for balance, for waiting, for the consistency of nature. It feels like everything is out of control and then I walk outside of my house with my little dog in tow and it is like every walk I've had before. I hear birds, I see the newest neighborhood blooms, the wild strawberries are starting to pop up starting with little white flowers and everything is beautiful.
And I get it--right now you may be thinking "Bre has really lost it on this existential journey!" Honestly, I have lost "it." I've lost the go-go-go. I've lost the need for productivity (kinda--I'm still an American).
These past 8 months I have been living very similar to how a lot of people are living right now. Quietly at home, trying to stay busy, contemplating life, having long conversations with people I love on FaceTime. This pandemic has not really changed my day to day very much. I'm struck by the reality that last March I dreamed of a moment just like this one: quietly writing on my laptop in my home office, listening to Frozen 2 on the iPod doc (yes you read that right) that I got for Christmas from my parents back in 2009. What seemed impossible to me then is here now, maybe even a little mundane. Getting here has not been easy. Honestly, the only reason I can write this blog without guilt on a Friday afternoon is because we are in a Pandemic, I'm not allowed to leave the house, can't apply for "more sensible" jobs and Mary is busy working on her own thing.
Over the past week I have been inspecting my Begonia (lovingly repotted and gifted to me from my grandmother) waiting for it's little buds to pop into an adorable little bloom. And today they are opening up so sweetly.
I'm not sure where I'm going with all of this--just know that I'm here contemplating life with you if you are doing the same. I'm sitting in deep gratitude for all that I have and humbly making this little offering to you. I hope you'll rest today, this weekend, for the rest of this uncertain time and beyond. I hope you'll journal about Spring and cycles and the unknown. I hope you'll put on music and close your eyes and just listen, don't you remember doing that as a young person? We never do that anymore. I'm sending you so much love, joy and care.
I was reminded yesterday by my favorite astrologer Jaliessa Sipress that we are all on this spinning rock together waiting to die. Which is part "YIKES, too far!" and also "YES, PERSPECTIVE." I'm comforted by the cycles of nature. The way that Spring always comes no matter what. That the equinox gives us exactly the same amount of sunlight and darkness no matter where or what you are on this planet. What a metaphor in this very uncertain time. A metaphor for balance, for waiting, for the consistency of nature. It feels like everything is out of control and then I walk outside of my house with my little dog in tow and it is like every walk I've had before. I hear birds, I see the newest neighborhood blooms, the wild strawberries are starting to pop up starting with little white flowers and everything is beautiful.
And I get it--right now you may be thinking "Bre has really lost it on this existential journey!" Honestly, I have lost "it." I've lost the go-go-go. I've lost the need for productivity (kinda--I'm still an American).
These past 8 months I have been living very similar to how a lot of people are living right now. Quietly at home, trying to stay busy, contemplating life, having long conversations with people I love on FaceTime. This pandemic has not really changed my day to day very much. I'm struck by the reality that last March I dreamed of a moment just like this one: quietly writing on my laptop in my home office, listening to Frozen 2 on the iPod doc (yes you read that right) that I got for Christmas from my parents back in 2009. What seemed impossible to me then is here now, maybe even a little mundane. Getting here has not been easy. Honestly, the only reason I can write this blog without guilt on a Friday afternoon is because we are in a Pandemic, I'm not allowed to leave the house, can't apply for "more sensible" jobs and Mary is busy working on her own thing.
Over the past week I have been inspecting my Begonia (lovingly repotted and gifted to me from my grandmother) waiting for it's little buds to pop into an adorable little bloom. And today they are opening up so sweetly.
 |
| 3.12 |
 |
| 3.20 |
I'm not sure where I'm going with all of this--just know that I'm here contemplating life with you if you are doing the same. I'm sitting in deep gratitude for all that I have and humbly making this little offering to you. I hope you'll rest today, this weekend, for the rest of this uncertain time and beyond. I hope you'll journal about Spring and cycles and the unknown. I hope you'll put on music and close your eyes and just listen, don't you remember doing that as a young person? We never do that anymore. I'm sending you so much love, joy and care.
What I'm Reading
The Highly Sensitive Person in Love by Elaine N. Aron, Ph. D.
How to Do Nothing by Jenny Odell
Marlee Grace's Newsletter
Alex Wolf's Newsletter
What I'm Listening To
H.E.R. on repeat
Frozen 2 Soundtrack on repeat
Lauren Ash Intuition Meditation on Insight Timer
My Modern/Jazz Dance playlist (Frank Ocean, Sade, Selena Gomez, Khalid, SZA & more)
What I'm Watching
Frozen 2 (Disney+)
The Bachelorette Season 13 (Tubi)
Hearts Beat Loud (Hulu)
Virgin River (Netflix)
Gilmore Girls (Netflix)
What I'm Doing
Meditating
Napping
Petting my dog
FaceTiming with adults and babies and animals
Dancing
Watering my plants
Thursday, March 19, 2020
Pandemic at the Disco
This morning while writing my Morning Pages (3 long hand written pages of whatever comes to mind) I wrote the following:
And that's when it hit me. I need to bring back the blog! I've been off Instagram for the past several days and I realized that although it's helping keep me from feeling maj anxious, I'm feeling sad that I'm not connected to all my internet pals. Enter the beautiful 2000's version of Instagram--BLOGS!!! I've been watching old episodes of MTV's Awkward with Mary on Hulu and in every episode Jenna types away her biggest fears and her daily triumphs. I figured since I have a lot of totally free time on my hands (shoutout to Paper Source for closing the store & still paying us for the next two weeks!) I can fill it with a fun project.
So get ready for some funny (hopefully), random, helpful (maybe), inspiring (!) content in this little corner of the internet that is not sponsored by Squarespace. I'll be posting some lists of the things I'm watching, reading, listening to, doing (like my Instagram Syllabi). I'll try to post some more article-type content (like BEDJ from a million years ago) and the age-old Live Journal type content because let's face it if you've made it to this link you're my friend and we can't go get coffee or to yoga (Betty) or to Disneyland (Erika) so this will have to suffice in between FaceTimes.
Day 2 of official Rest & Chill as i like to call it. It actually is not day 2 but when I'm reading this back in 30 years it (probably) won't matter what the date is--unless something super crazy happens in the next few days and then my grandchildren are reading this after I'm dead and are all: "OMG, (or some space slang term) Grandma was just rambling about how she was bored and over watching TV when _________ went down!" If that's the case, it is March 19, 2020.
And that's when it hit me. I need to bring back the blog! I've been off Instagram for the past several days and I realized that although it's helping keep me from feeling maj anxious, I'm feeling sad that I'm not connected to all my internet pals. Enter the beautiful 2000's version of Instagram--BLOGS!!! I've been watching old episodes of MTV's Awkward with Mary on Hulu and in every episode Jenna types away her biggest fears and her daily triumphs. I figured since I have a lot of totally free time on my hands (shoutout to Paper Source for closing the store & still paying us for the next two weeks!) I can fill it with a fun project.
So get ready for some funny (hopefully), random, helpful (maybe), inspiring (!) content in this little corner of the internet that is not sponsored by Squarespace. I'll be posting some lists of the things I'm watching, reading, listening to, doing (like my Instagram Syllabi). I'll try to post some more article-type content (like BEDJ from a million years ago) and the age-old Live Journal type content because let's face it if you've made it to this link you're my friend and we can't go get coffee or to yoga (Betty) or to Disneyland (Erika) so this will have to suffice in between FaceTimes.
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