Allow Me to Re-Introduce Myself
So, you can say that COVID-19, and the racial injustice that is finally getting attention as an issue that needs to be addressed, has taught me a lot about myself such as:
Schedules are important.
Rest is the underdog waiting for the come up from productivity.
Being productive should not feel like a panic
Never take for granted mental, physical, spiritual health for the granted-they matter.
Black joy matters.
While I presume that I have always known these truths to be self-evident to a certain extent, living a belief somehow makes it ring all the more clearly. I noticed throughout this journey that so many things were hitting my emotional deck. I felt like I was stuck on a cruise ship, on the one hand, I had resources to make sure that I was adequately physically cared for, and tools to use to help me engage in self-care, however, I was alone in my home. The busyness of life outside of the house had mostly diminished. It was just me, my cat, and my thoughts.
Throughout that feeling of being stranded, I began to try to decide whether my thoughts were a friend or foe. Some days, my thoughts were a motivator-I was getting stuff done and felt oh, so good about that progress. Other days, my thoughts were a self-righteous critic, tying to ring me down and everyone else with it. It was also absorbing so much information: from social media to news outlets, to stories from others in my life. It didn’t help that I was seeing so much on social media-so many needs being unmet and my own fellow brothers and sisters suffering. All of that energy was keeping my boat further off balance.
Maybe you can relate to some of this. I know that for my entire life, I have been called “too sensitive”. I have had people concerned that that the world would overwhelm me because, sometimes, this world can be unkind. I’ve spent most of my childhood believing that sensitivity was something that I need to overcome. It wasn’t until I started working as a mental health professional that I realized this sensitivity is too often that friend that’s misunderstood.
So, one of the biggest that this pandemic and racial movement has taught me, and the one that I hope to continue to absorb and support others in learning, is that being sensitive can truly be a gift if cared for properly.
If you vibe with this story, feel free to reach out to me! I am in the lab trying to figure out some new ways for us to use that sensitivity to help ourselves, and each other heal and grow, but you can expect that there will be more writings on sensitivity and mental health.
For now though, I will settle with just re-introducing myself. My name is Chante’, and I am a Sensitive Black Girl.