Blackbird

Krystle Warren singing 'Blackbird'

Last night, I had a revelation, with a very close friend. This person always somehow manages to bring to me to a place, where I'm required to dig way deeper than I'm ever prepared to go. I always feel safe enough to do so. There is never any judgement. Never one ounce of dismissal of my thoughts and/or feelings, no matter what it takes for me to get there. I've a listening ear, that always considers, and respects how far my mind, heart and soul stretches. It really is incredible to know someone so cosmically, magical - to say the least.

I discovered how deeply affected I am, in how I was taught to suffer, by perpetuating those same behaviors, internally - it's an endless battle. The realization led me to one of my favorite YouTube videos of Krystle Warren, performing her version of Paul McCartney's Blackbird. He wrote it at the height of The Civil Rights movement. 

"...I liked to think of a blackbird as being a kind of symbol for a black woman."

I've seen Kyrstle Warren perform live, twice. This video is the closest to how it feels to be in a space with her. Feeling the warmth of her very soul; beautifully, captivating. I'd marry her, if she asked me. Anyway, I played this, on repeat, late last night. I sobbed and consoled myself - until I understood why I deserved such poetry, that melodically billowed out of a siren (her tone). Ms. Warren, you carried me through a very dark hour. 

I woke up (this afternoon) and wrote this:

When your child is crying, and your response is any of the following:

- What you cryin’ for?
- Would you like me to give you something to cry about?
- You betta’ not be crying, over there.
- There’s no reason to cry.
- Man up.

It’s dismissive. You’re telling them their tears are pointless, and how they feel doesn’t matter. And potentially, they will learn to carry that with them, wherever they go, sometimes, for the rest of their lives. They will disregard their own feelings, for the sake of others. In turn, they will unknowingly, surround themselves with people who disregard them, continuing the cycle of their own internal suffering, in thinking their own [hurt] feelings are disposable and irrelevant. They will carry guilt, shame, and feel inadequate about their own expressions, when denied love and understanding. THAT is emotional abuse. Silent as it may be - it’s abuse, just the same.

I speak from experience. 

Only now, at 36, am I learning that my feelings matter... and how allowing the constant dismissal of them, from myself and others, has shaped my life. It’s easier said than done, but I’m working on it. PTSD is not a joke. When all you know is how to suffer through, it takes nothing, to trigger you right back to the only thing you’ve ever known. I refuse to let it win, this time around.

Take care of yourselves.

M. 

Upward and onward.