Speak Over Yourself

Ever since I was little I have LOVED talking. Being an effective communicator meant that I could get candy, hugs, and laughter. I have always valued this. Now as I’ve gotten older I realize that when I’m hurting or trying to understand something, I get quiet. Right! As talkative as I am, yes, I most definitely get quiet. I’ll talk to someone for hours and then I’ll get quiet for days, even weeks or months on end.

Now blogging is like talking on paper - like journaling. I’ll do it to express but I find it so complicated to do it when I’m not in a good purposeful I GOT SOMETHING TO SAY space. The past few years have simply been centered around my grievances surrounding my declined health experiences. No one wants to hear about your pain, Masonia, is what I have told myself. It would physically hurt to think about my stuff. You know, DEATH. It kept staring at me every single day. The pain kept reminding me that although you’re alive, you’re not getting stronger and you’re not getting better. Of course that didn’t make me anything other than depressed and more miserable. Defeated. I had never felt so hopeless. My confidence, goals, and dreams were shot.

They say things take time, but they never say years, lol. My discernment, vision, clarity, was distorted. I questioned myself: how bad do you really want those things? How important are they? Then I remembered, if I start documenting this, I’ll be forced to remember the hurt that I no longer want ever again. I just wanted things to be erased, forgotten, removed as if it never existed and go back to the way things were. I started living in the past. Just like I did 11 years ago when I got diagnosed with this incurable HIV. Then I accepted it…

Masonia, you’re no longer who you used to be. There are parts of you that are literally dead, but you are not. You can choose to fight for parts of the old you and that’s ok, but let go the parts that will no longer return. I started speaking over myself the things I desired to hear from my loved ones that they didn’t know or simply didn’t have the capacity to give. All in all, as much as I like talking, I’ve learned that's what I need to be able to give while in solitude. This my dear is my blog.