Monday Notes: 30 Days of Gratitude 🙏🏾

I learned one thing posting a single gratitude message to social media everyday.

There’s always something for which to be grateful. Period.

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Monday Notes: When Being Yourself Isn’t Easy

Be yourself. Love yourself. Create boundaries. Speak your truth. Allow others to be themselves. If you’ve been following my blog for even a few weeks, then these should sound familiar. They are mantras by which I have lived over the past five years. However, I never want anyone to read these and believe that I think they’re easy. They are not. And usually I’m reminded by how challenging they are whenever a family member arrives.

This time it’s my grandmother.

img_6084Growing up, I spent a lot of time with Grannie. She was born in 1926 and holds certain opinions. One of them is that children should be seen and not heard. And if you spoke out of turn with her, you either were slapped, or told to shut up.

Much of my childhood and early adulthood I remember wanting badly to not only be heard, but also to be understood. And, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m a communicator and have a lot to say…all the time. Being around Grannie meant silence, unless I was directly spoken to. And as exaggerated as it sounds, it always felt like an assault on my spirit.

shhBecause the caveat for speaking my mind seemed to be becoming an adult, I thought surely that when “I got grown” I’d be able to use my voice with her. The answer is yes and no. It seems I can share what I believe or know is true for myself, but not at the expense of a disagreement or misunderstanding. At the age of almost 45, my insides still begin to swish around when I answer Grannie truthfully. When this happens, I remind myself that I’m an adult, whose words are important. And no matter how much I’m shaking on the inside, I take a deep breath, speak my mind, and if an argument ensues, I deal with it.

This occurred during her most recent visit. It began with a simple question: Do you want eggs and turkey bacon for breakfast?

“I want whatever you’re doing,” she answered.

“Okay,” I said. “When people visit, then I usually make breakfast.”

Just like that. The conversation shifted.

“I’m not people,” she said.

“Yes you are Grannie,” I replied. Cue shivering insides.

“I’m not people,” she repeated.

Not one for morning confrontations, I looked at her and said, “This is not a big deal. This is a yes I want breakfast or no I don’t.”

“Yes,” she said and went back to reading.

But this wasn’t over.

The conversation continued when she asked if my feelings were hurt because she didn’t attend Kesi’s graduation or my 43rd birthday event.

“Whenever people…” I began.

“There you go with the people again. I am not people. I’m special.”

She’d traded slapping and shut up for interrupting my words. At this point, I could feel myself getting angry. Instead of pushing it down as I would have in the past, I let myself be mad.

“Yes Grannie you’re special. But I treat people the same no matter what.”

“You do not treat people the same,” she said a little louder with a mouthful of eggs.

Cue shaking voice. “Grannie how are you going to tell me how I operate with others?”

Grannie paused. She seemed to be thinking about what I said. How could she really tell me how I function? She couldn’t. She doesn’t see it because she lives over a thousand miles away.

Her next words? “You might treat everybody the same, but I don’t like it.”

“Aha,” I said. “That’s what it is. You might not like it, but that doesn’t make it not true.”

“Well, you might make breakfast for everybody, but you better not make everybody your grannie,” she added.

This scenario ended with me laughing and saying, “That’s impossible. Everyone can’t be my grannie.”

I realize that I could’ve ended this conversation by simply saying, “okay” at the beginning. I understand that I could’ve stopped the discussion when it entered “I’m special” territory. But that’s not me. Years of silence have shown me that if I have something to say, then it’s okay to voice it, even if everything about the exchange is invisibly scary.

Also worth mentioning is that having unresolved issues that creep up in interactions and conversations seems to be common for everyone. But as I’ve said before on this blog, other people’s issues are not your responsibility, even if the person is your grandmother.

The only person you can ever control is you.

So, in that moment, I’m glad I controlled myself and still managed to speak my mind. Did I have more to say? Of course. Something in me still wanted to be heard. Understood. But it wasn’t going to happen that day. That’s something I realized. However, I also recognized my growth. No matter how tiny, it was significant. And this was a small success for sure because I was mostly silent for the remainder of her visit. But that’s okay too. Small victories are what have lead me towards the direction of being my true self. Who knows? Maybe next time I’ll speak up twice. Or better yet, maybe I’ll release the desire to be heard.