Because this PTSD, Fibromyalgia cocktail I’ve been served is a beast.
Because no matter how good I look on paper, how many books and articles I write, how many phenomenal opportunities come my way, I still wrestle with that impish voice telling me that I’m not enough. Or that I’m too much. Depends on the day.
Because the weight of living in a country where ofttimes the color of my skin and the kink in my hair somehow makes me inherently a criminal or at best unattractive feels like someone stabbing me in an already wide open wound.
Because childhood sexual abuse changes your brain.
Because the weight of my call to be a prophetic, reconciliatory voice on intersectional issues like faith, race, class, and justice, to a truth resistant culture, is..well…too damn heavy sometimes.
Because the roller coaster ride of anxiety and depression isn’t really all that fun.
Because that same anxiety and depression is preventing me from doing my part in healing my marriage.
Because randomly breaking out in tears is not a bad thing–until it is.
Because self-care is no longer just optional.
Because I can’t do it all and that deeply disturbs me.
Because my mother won’t and my grandmother didn’t.
Because my daughter needs to know that her Mommy will be OK.
Because my daughter needs a model for what to do when she is not OK.
Because Jesus loves me so much that he gifted and equipped someone with the skill set to be objective in their evaluation of me and the wisdom to guide me as I walk this out.
Because my spirit is strong but my flesh is much, much stronger. (You’ll get that later).
Because sometimes I hurt inside, and I desire to be whole again.