Seeing the world with 40-year old eyes feels different. Different in a way that is hard to capture in written language and even to distill into a few cogent thoughts that rumble through my head when trying to synthesize my streams of consciousness. As a black woman who has lived a life of duality, one of privilege and one that has come with experiences of inequities of being born black and a woman, I can say without hesitation that time has brought about new perspectives, and wisdom that lies beyond the reach of my comprehension at times.
I have slowly edged myself toward acceptance of who I am, my purpose, and the flaws that I see within my character and my physical appearance. Like many other Type A personalities, I am highly critical of my every utterance, work products, and how I appear to others. I have privately tried to withhold the hurts of my past from being exposed to the open air and listening ears of people who care for me; but realize that when my soul seeps out through my words, my eyes, and my touch; others around me can see my brokenness and patiently wait for me to turn my pain into words. People view me as strong. My heart longs for others to see me as soft and as delicate as they see their own hearts. I find myself thinking more and more these days of how I can ignite the synergy between my confidence and the kindness of my heart so that others experience me fully. I have realized that vulnerability and showing up as who I am, helps me take one step closer to healing and wholeness.
When considering the desires of my heart, I have been blessed and anointed to have the confidence to take on any professional challenge. Still, I also shy away from opportunities to open my heart to give and experience love. I have no problem being who I am with my gal pals and closest confidantes, but I struggle when I find someone with whom my soul feels a connection to, to show up and give my whole self. I convince myself that I am trying to protect my heart from being broken and that somewhere deep down inside the other person is not worthy. In those moments, I feel voiceless, and the power that I hold at other moments in the day and other parts of my life erode my every being. I silently retreat into myself and create a narrative about my flaws or the other person’s intentions.
For over 15 years, I have carried this desire around in the back of my mind, the notion that I don’t want to be “Uncle Vern’s Nina.” My uncle Luther Vernon had a girlfriend, who, from what I recall from scant details, was highly intelligent and went on to be a professor at an Ivy League university. To my family, she seemed like a catch for my uncle, whose college football career came to a tragic end when he experienced a career-ending injury. My uncle broke up with Nina, and over the years, as he and her both moved on, they stayed in contact and dated from time to time. I recall thinking when I broke up with my long-time boyfriend; I didn’t want to be “Uncle Vern’s Nina.” Meaning, I didn’t want to be the one that got away, the one who was brilliant and high achieving who gave her heart to someone who at the time didn’t deserve it. I didn’t want to float in an out of someone’s life who had moved on and chosen someone else to share their life with or be the woman who he could always retreat to when other relationships went south.
As I think about this narrative that I created about Uncle Vern and Nina, with my 40-year-old eyes, I realize that I created this narrative outside of the truth regarding what happened with Uncle Vern and Nina. I actually don’t know what happened in their relationship, and I don’t even know if the feelings I have attached to their story are even true. Maybe, just maybe, I have created this story about “Uncle Vern’s Nina” because I was afraid that I would become and be the version of Nina for my long-time boyfriend or for some other love that I have had in my life.
I ask myself at this moment what I am afraid of. I am afraid:
- that the rejection and someone not wanting to reciprocate the feelings that I have for them
- that the partner that I chose would at some point choose someone else
- that my physical appearance isn’t good or beautiful enough if I let myself go (I feel like in some ways I already have)
- that one day it won’t work, and I will have put my energy and heart into something that didn’t work
I ask myself, so what? So what if he rejects you? So what if he is unfaithful or chooses someone else? So what if your physical appearance isn’t good enough? So what if it just doesn’t work?
I will:
- feel hurt
- be angry
- feel betrayed
I will be human.
I will be loved by my friends and family.
I will be able to say I gave my heart and my all.
I will find love again.
I will go on to live my life like “Uncle Vern’s Nina.”
40 Years & Counting 