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E. Nichole

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09.30.2018

the fear in staying and the faith in letting go

i have lived in new york for 11,479 days. a concrete jungle where dreams are made of + deferred. a place where i have learned how to navigate subway systems and poverty. i know what it is to live off of food stamps and thrive off of side hustles. at the start of early mornings came blue + red lights against white walls to wake me. come nightfall were stories about skipping school on tomorrows from black girls outside windows that would put me to sleep. residing here for 31 years, 5 months, and 3 days came with perks like learning how to write poetry—observing how brown women perform street dances when we maneuver the advances of men in crowds. there was an art to what my granny called “switching” when we walked that exposed the depth of our cultures.

i am grateful to us, to new york, for the introduction to identity.

the grandiosity of the city from the lens of a kindergartener were the courthouses that lined the streets, adorned with addicts and attorneys, hot dog stands and mr. softee trucks. i became a storyteller by way of my mother, listening to her lace experiences on eviction notices at four. when she stitched the realities of single motherhood, full-time employment, and a collegiate career at an ivy league institution as a high school dropout together, she made struggle sound sweet. twenty-something years thereafter, i would know it to taste bitter. but before our stories would intersect, photographic memory would take shots of her using her hands to convey frustration, fear, and faith before a judge.

i am thankful to her, to new york, for the gateway to God.

because of the city, i understood the resilience of children—watching them scrape knees and elbows in an attempt to make it home before street lights illuminate dangerous blocks. or away from officers who incited more fear than mommas screaming from 3rd floor windows about getting their asses inside. cops and robbers, and freeze tag would transform in meaning. “fast” would differ in context between boys and girls, and i would later come to know why it was that i laid with men who held childlike energies—the city aged us beyond our years, and we were not yet developed. we ran all the time and tired ourselves. for ice cream trucks, from trouble. in the direction of phone wires used for double dutch or discipline. towards train doors and job opportunities simply not crafted for our kind and closed in our faces.

what an privilege it was to sit in the chairs of African hair braiders and Dominican hairstylists and hear narratives and novelas on why we were so fortunate enough to be here instead of there.

i had lived in a room for 90 days. i have lived in my first and only apartment for 9 years. in a span of 9 weeks, i let go of all that i knew and transitioned from new york to maryland.

an evolution of home.

i clung to spaces that restricted growth because for me, this city would help my sons how to build a toughness only these streets could teach you—even if i did see how much it was destructing their father; even if i knew how important it was for boys of color to maintain a softness that may dissipate over time; even if Lesandro Guzman-Feliz weighed on me every time i allowed my children out the house. this was home and surely there was no other place like it, but sometimes when i’m scared of leveling up, i have a habit of holding on to what i know is no good for me. with all of that, i realized that i seized fear and suffocated our future.

i asked God for answers on how to quiet the noise in my mind; i came across an article from a navy seal on mastering fear to acknowledge that i was once again, my own obstacle. this particularly hit when reading it:

“A friend of mine from the Philippines tells me how they trap monkeys in his country. They dig a hole, place a coconut in it; the monkey reaches in, grabs the coconut, and his fist is now too big to pull back out. He’s trapped. All he has to do is let go of the coconut. But he won’t do it. Why not? What keeps that monkey’s fist clenched? Fear. He’s afraid of losing what he has. So he keeps the coconut – and loses his freedom…Mastering fear starts with a decision, then proceeds through rehearsal, so that you’ll be as prepared as possible to make that jump into the unknown and take action in the face of your fear. But nine times out of ten, when the time comes to make the jump, something keeps people from actually doing it. Something they’re holding on to.”

the signs couldn’t have been more clear: my mental space was in sync with my living space. i thought a lot about how attached i am to all that is here and yet, connected to nothing. the convenience that is in-laws around corners, friends one city over, and lovers nestled in easily accessible areas couldn’t comfort me when life became too busy. they were the coconuts.

so when the Universe presented a condominium that doubled our living arrangement, gave us greenery and a sense of community, i had to let go. then the numbers started to reappear and the dots started to connect.

on the 5th of march, i purchased my first car. with absolutely no clue on what i was doing, but a tiredness in my spirit in servicing others and not to myself. this was my identity. this was my independence.

on the 5th of august, i came home from a retreat that first presented to me our new place of residence, and told my family that we were moving. with absolutely no job in place and no immediate family in the area, but an urge to uproot where we have all been planted. this was fear and also faith.

on the 5th of september, i registered my vehicle in the state of maryland + made the move official. five days later, i would be offered a job position that i was initially denied on.

i’ve transitioned from four—a number of being—to five: a number symbolizing equilibrium, personal freedom and manifestation.

God had his hand in everything the entire time. my childhood experiences set this up for my own children.

this is the end of the familar. a continuation of a story about how i am learning to master the art of unraveling. the start of new chapters away from the place i called home for 11,479 days.

Filed Under: Family, Life Choices

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the miniature version of the blog.

to the quiet one. who still sleeps with his toddle to the quiet one. who still sleeps with his toddler blanket. that occasionally sneaks in his momma’s bed to cuddle + watch anime on saturday nights, to see who between us can fall asleep under the arms of the other first. i usually win. my number two, but never second. an old soul + highly intuitive child with gifts that expose me to the lives you have lived before this one, evidence of the breadth of your wisdom that extends far beyond this earth. a crystal collector. a gem you are.⁣⁣
⁣⁣
the stand-out kind with a knack for cracking jokes—you get your wit + fast lines from your father, but like a true aries, your punchlines leave no room for comebacks. a creative comic kid with ill storytelling skills you’ve inherited from mom. an exceptional 11th grade reader. we stan a lover of literature. i’ve appreciated your takes on wes moore’s memoir ‘the other wes moore’, interpretations to abstract art, and your gen alpha elucidations to marshmello’s music video to “stars”. i learn so much beside you. because of you. because, you.⁣⁣
⁣⁣
to the brains of the bunch. the 2019 and 2020 recipient of academic achievement by the council of elders of the black community of howard county’s black student achievement program. your accomplishments are your own. flipping the social rejections you faced early in life, you were never one to fit in. we laugh because they follow you now. a nonconformist. a blossoming pianist. ⁣
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my number two, but always first. number two, you are my number one. ⁣⁣
⁣⁣
to the keeper of Kai. right hand to Kae. the monopoly master to dad. the warmest hugger to mom. the class clown. happy 11th birthday, Kamryn Mikhail. you truly are the master teacher.
“the instant of birth is exquisite. pain and joy “the instant of birth is exquisite. pain and joy are one at this moment. ever after, the dim recollection is so sweet that we speak to our children with a gratitude they never understand.”⁣
⁣
Kai’s 4th solar return.
did you know your sun, moon, and ascendant signs a did you know your sun, moon, and ascendant signs are that of your paternal grandmother, your maternal grandmother, your paternal grandfather? a wonderful amalgamation of the elements. this is no coincidence. four weeks before your 4th, someone would ask to see your photo + would say exactly what your daddy has mentioned since your birth: that you resemble both of your living great-grandmothers. your eyes spill the secret that you’ve been here before, living lives prior to this one. your face prominent and full tell me that you will have much to say in this lifetime. because you are of them, you will hold what you know in the cornerstones of your cheeks. let it sit there, knowing those who speak, do not know, and those who know, do not speak. your wisdom + how you teach will show up in other ways. ⁣⁣
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in the softness you possess + in the edginess of beings born this season. you are dual and yet, one. ⁣⁣
⁣⁣
in the smallness of your life + in reiterations from readers, i believe that the energies of our ancestors—both living and transitioned—never expire, only evolve. you are living proof that we are here to wake up from the illusion of separateness. you were always the reminder that we are already home. that heaven exists right here on earth. that the stars from above, in conjunction with the love of our parents, make us; that the people before us live within us.⁣⁣
⁣⁣
today, we celebrate your arrival from higher spaces to this one. the continuation of legacies + a love where there are no limits. thank you for choosing me. for simply being a projection of my own level of evolution. for the undefined, infinite joy born on an early evening of january 2, 2017 + beyond.⁣⁣
⁣⁣
𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲, 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐬.
it’s hard to break down the depths of a connecti it’s hard to break down the depths of a connection like this. after a while, how do you put almost two and half decades of friendship into words? i’ve long expressed both the joy + struggle of rocking out with someone for this long. we’ve seen it all. and still in each battle, breakup, or new beginning, it is always you who’s there with me and vice versa. my gratitude goes beyond today to your mother i grew up afraid of. she was something like mine in many ways + we bonded over the strictness that is Black women raising daughters who did sneaky things in the name of finding freedom. in that, we knew that we were single souls in separate bodies. but today, it is these same women we thank for their ways when raising Kae, Kam, and Kai. what a beautiful thing to live some life + to know now what we didn’t know then. 

and there lives gratitude to your father. who drove us to school in the mornings and let us belt out or rap song lyrics in an eerie teenage pitch; harlem shake + be dramatic in his car to the place you probably hated most and i place i found safe. we split off in this way, our differences put to light, and yet, our friendship remained in tact. we got through because of one another.

shout out to your parents for your having you. for raising a Queen. for letting me be the sister you never had. for being the first person i call and never changing your intro: “what happened now?” for never changing your ending: “let me know what you need,” or “tell me if i have to drive down.” thank you for being a friend. my best friend. the perfect fusion of every golden girl there was. happy 33rd birthday, baby sis. don’t let me pull up today + you’re already wine-wasted, please and thank you.

xx,
e.
“if you and your father were closer, do you thin “if you and your father were closer, do you think his death would have caused you to spiral?”⁣
⁣
“yeah, absolutely.”⁣
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how odd is it to want a deeper connection with someone, but also experience gratitude that it didn’t work out that way? i would revisit this conversation and takeaway in the months ahead up to the present time.⁣
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in the days that followed, we grew—together and apart. at the end of spring, we realized it was time for us to become one with the seasons and go to counseling together in an attempt to revive the wilted parts of our relationship. i was living in the memory of what it was to be betrayed, the side effects of worst case scenarios lingering around in speech and sex. he always felt i was never truly over it. the body keeps the score. and in truth, as amplified in virtual sessions with a therapist, i wasn’t. i still held on to the memories of what led to our daughter’s birth and summer ‘18. the problem began with him, but i held on to it. this is how i avoid death—i extend expiration dates and hoard memories to keep them alive. i held on to his words, jotted down as reminders, bullet points, and saved audio notes for memoir writing:⁣
⁣
“how can you give up on something that’s always there?”⁣
“i got so comfortable in his existence. that’s why i lost him.”⁣
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he spoke about other people, not knowing he was speaking of me.⁣
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triggered and guilty, i went back to individual therapy…⁣
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…ironically, on the next day, it would be the last time we’d speak. there was no blow up or argument—just a increase in our empathic abilities and an awareness that we weren’t aligned. for years, i’d hear him relay his granny’s words to our children, “who don’t hear, will feel,” and we heard everything we needed to about our connection through energy. sometimes, the hard work is already done on our behalf if we just lean into and accept the vibrations of a moment. i was learning to differentiate between the sound of intuition guiding me and trauma misleading me.”
⁣
‘sweet 16.’ new, on the blog + in the bio.
the first + only post for the year on 33 and 2020.
tw: death.⁣
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(photo beautifully shot by: mann limburg)
in december of last year into january of this year in december of last year into january of this year, one of the closest people to me was admitted into the hospital for a serious medical condition that led to daily dialysis treatments for 3-4 hours on end. for a minute, for the first time, really, i questioned God, wondering if this was the answer to my request, “please bring me closer to you in the new year.” this wasn’t the way i had envisioned it would pan out, yet, it brought my family together, brought my children into my bedroom to find me kneeling at the foot of the bed, brought my brother back to life. today, i celebrate his 1st saturn return, his rebirth, and his entire existence. ⁣
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to my little big bro on his 29th: i love you just as much as i did on the saturdays we watched bobby’s world + animaniacs together, when we argued over who was better in mortal kombat + crash bandicoot, and the day you saved me from myself back in ‘03. i know how to fight—in every sense of the word—because of you. watching you grow up. watching you on that bed. ⁣
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thank you for pulling through.⁣
thank you for pulling through.⁣
thank you for pulling through.⁣
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thank you for being my first best friend + holding the title since. happy birthday, kid. it’s good to see you on this side.
“are you a princess?”⁣ “she said ‘i’m “are you a princess?”⁣
“she said ‘i’m much more than a princess, but you don't have a name for it yet here on earth.’”⁣
⁣
halloween ‘20.
“𝑤𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑛 𝑐𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 ℎ𝑎𝑖𝑟 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦’𝑟𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔.”

𝘆𝗲𝗮𝗵. 𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘀 𝗿𝘅.
moment of transparency: when i had my firstborn 11 moment of transparency: when i had my firstborn 11 years ago, i was 130 pounds, a size 7. fast forward to the present + three children later, i’m a little under 200 pounds, fluctuate between a size 10-12. the power of the snapback skipped right over me all three times. shifting between loestrin, depo-provera + the iud; struggling with removing sweets from my diet after being raised in a home that didn’t prioritize healthy eating; and elevated levels of stress throughout the years definitely doesn’t help with my weight loss journey. so as much as i appreciate + understand the wonders of what a woman’s body can do, do i still struggle with my image? absolutely.⁣
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the moment of taking off a sundress came with a small bout of anxiety as i pulled the stripes that camouflaged the belly + back fat over my head. i adjusted my breasts, i pulled the bottom of my one-piece from the crevice of my butt that no longer sits up perkily. and maybe my face gave me away as it usually does, but he trekked over hot sand to grab the dress from the hands that gripped at it as if it were the edge of a cliff.⁣
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“it’s not a towel. it’s okay.”⁣
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as it folded itself up into a mess of a ball + fell on the towel beneath us, he grabbed a handful of a cheek. in a mix of sensual and playfully, he squeezed the jiggly parts where the lines intersect + the dimples started to form. he would lean over, drink in hand, and pinch flesh.⁣
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“you’re drunk,” i would tell him, but was immediately reminded of the ways that we diminish our beauty, our value, ourselves when we use cover up language to lighten the mood or lessen the (emotional or mental) weight of a moment. or in this case, hide how we feel about compliments and our level of self-confidence. it took years for me to realize that sometimes refusing admiration was simply a reflection into how I saw myself…⁣
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new, full article over at members.xonecole.com.
“humanity does not suffer from the disease of wr “humanity does not suffer from the disease of wrong beliefs but humanity suffers from the contagious nature of the lack of belief. if you have no magic with you it is not because magic does not exist but it is because you do not believe in it. even if the sun shines brightly upon your skin every day, if you do not believe in the sunlight, the sunlight for you does not exist.”⁣
—c. joybell c.⁣
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𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤.⁣
𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠.⁣
𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠.
“my mother⁣ is pure radiance. ⁣ ⁣ she is t “my mother⁣
is pure radiance. ⁣
⁣
she is the sun⁣
i can touch⁣
+ kiss⁣
⁣
+ hold⁣
without ⁣
getting burnt.”⁣
—sanober khan
“i might ask if i am a good dad to the child wit “i might ask if i am a good dad to the child within me, for all effective parenting begins there…being a dad is not about creating a life, for that demands little of your life. it’s about cultivating a life, for that demands all of your life.”⁣⁣
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𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐠.⁣⁣
Kae’s best friend.⁣⁣
Kam in adult form. ⁣⁣
Kai’s first love. a girl dad, for real.⁣⁣
my forever partner.
first came the vision. if you know me personally, first came the vision.

if you know me personally, you know i have a tendency to act off impulse + act on any and everything God sends me in a dream. an event centered around Blackness—the totality of my existence—and Latinx sororities—my avenue into uprooting my ethnic identity. 
but life’s changed. i haven’t (co)hosted in an event in five years or so. i’ve been clinically diagnosed with anxiety since. i’ve lived a quieter life. so i couldn’t manifest this. because it would mean revisiting the life i left behind. pushing through panic attacks. amplifying my voice. then i read my horoscope that same morning.
.
“when you make room to speak about what exists, you no longer have to spend time wondering about everything left unsaid. lean on your natural talent for courageous leadership as much as possible right now. invent new voices for yourself. you will have to do something you don't normally do or that you've never done before. your best bet is to roll up your sleeves and do it.”
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you don’t sleep on double confirmations. you can’t diminish the gift that is manifestation.

so countless people came to mind + when i stopped doubting the gift that was this event, i hit send. women from so many sororities came through with an overwhelming response. “finally, we’re talking about this collaboratively and nationally.”
.
and here we are. i created this event—strategic about the name; who would moderate + that connection between The Divine Nine and Latinx orgs; the panelist selections—to (re)direct many in the right direction through education + always led by (the Black) experience.

Join me + @janelm of @aintilatina for an important discussion on cultural relevance and responsiveness within Latinx sororities, featuring:
• Ysanet Batista of @slu1987 and founder of @wokefoods
• Dr. Ariana Curtis of @omegaphibeta and curator of Latinx Studies at the @nmaahc
• Dalma Santana, President-elect of @chiupsilonsigma and Director of Special Events and Parent Relations at St. Peter’s Prep
• Jelisa Jay Robinson of @kdchi and Black American playwright

indebted to these women for being the pull up-types that rihanna spoke of. have a seat at the table with us on weds? #BlackLatinx
“𝐢 𝐚𝐦 𝐚 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝.”⁣⁣
— bethanee epifani j. bryant
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