I am worthy and beautiful

beautiful

I woke up this morning…Actually, it is more like I barely slept into the morning. I was a jumble of nerves. I was feeling anxious. I knew that I had to listen carefully to my body in that moment because it could be the difference between being anxious for a day and being depressed for months.

My body said, “I need yoga.”

So I cued up Yoga With Adrienne on Youtube and got on the mat. We started slowly in a seated pose. Then we did the breathing exercise that opened up my world. I felt calm. Then we moved into cat pose…then we moved. And as we moved into each pose and I got to connect with my body, I understood what was happening. My body was demanding attention. I cried a bit on the mat but I felt better for that moment with myself in a dark room.

I texted my friend and said, “I have abandoned my body. I don’t look at it in the mirror. I struggle to feed it. Even clothing it is a struggle. I need to make peace with my body.”

This epiphany reminds of reading Love Warrior by Glennon Doyle. A major theme is reuniting the self. The self is divided into the mind, body, and soul. She feeds her mind and her soul. She is disconnected from her body. In a lot of ways, I connect to this idea/situation. I have always been an avid reader. I take great pride in developing my mind. I am invested in my soul. My faith is a big part of my identity. My body and I though are not connected. I never felt like I looked how I felt. I often don’t feel like I look smart or accomplished or presentable. I often want to hide in public because I just like my body does not belong.

I have lived most of life at this point with a disordered eating behavior. I love the idea of cooking food more than the idea of eating it. When I do, I have to battle the shame I feel about feeding myself.  It has gotten easier over the years because even when I don’t love eating, I focus on the functional aspects of it. I just do it.

I go through cycles of taking care of myself. There are times when I exercise consistently. In those moments, I usually feel connected to my body. I look at my body more. I understand how it works. I take pride in beautifying myself. I feel a sense of grounding by engaging with my physical self.

At the moment, I am a year into a very sedentary phase. I have ignored my physicality. It is not just in the working out. It is in the way I refuse to care for my hair or my skin. It is in the lack of exercise. It is the lack of attention to what I eat. In many ways, I let my body go because I needed to focus on my mental health. Now that I am at a place where my mental health is stronger and I can say that happiness is a regular state of mind, I need to focus on my body.

I don’t need to diet like I have been tempted to in the last month or so. I know after 18 years in this battle of disordered eating that I do not do well with structure around my eating. I need to go back to creating nutrituous food and celebrating the art of eating.

I need to physically challenge my body. At the moment, I am inclined to focus on walking and yoga as means to do that.

I need to look at my face and body. I have been wearing more make-up of late. I have also been taking selfies. There is a part of me that feels narcissistic for taking pictures of myself. However, I recognize that in looking at myself and not cowering away from my own image, I am accepting that I am worthy and beautiful just as I am.

I don’t know what tomorrow brings. I do know that today, I started a new journey in understanding my relationship to my body.

 

 

 

10 Years After Graduation…

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Dear 20-year-old Sinmi,

This is the 30-year-old Sinmi writing to you. I just wanted to say thank you for the life you set in motion for us.

Today makes it ten years since you graduated from UCSD. I remember how excited you were to be done. The emotional call to mom as you walked out of the literary philosophy finals and realized you were done. I still remember the ceremony. You were sitting between mom and dad in the sweltering San Diego summer heat excited. Dad spotted a friend that he had seen in years. Mom kept telling you to listen to the commencement speech delivered by James Avery. I remember dad bending over so that you write out your name on the announcement slip on his back. The dinner at PF Chang’s, the extended stay with mom and Damola as well as the limo that picked aunty up. The excitement of having an apartment for the first time.

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When all of that excitement was over,  I also remember how much fear you had about going into the world without a grown up job. I think what I am most proud of are the many leaps of fate you took. Do you remember quitting your library job because you believed something would come through? Could you have imagined how working in Macy’s would change your life?

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Thank you for setting the tone of my current life. Thank you for fighting for a life filled with meaning and passion. Thank you for not settling. You could have gone to law school. Instead, you realized that wasn’t you, and you chose England. You chose a life filled with adventure and uncertainty. You chose excitement. You chose risk. There are days when  I wonder what life would have been if you actually went for the LSAT exam. Ten years later though, I realize that the one small act of defiance still gives me the courage to make the tough choices.

I should also let you know that life gets better when you get older. I am not as lonely as you used to be. I have gotten better at I discovered I was an introvert and I no longer question why I feel strange around people. I have friends that I hold dear. I live in Boston now and deal with the snow every year.

My biggest discovery in ten years is that I would never have all the answers. I have learned to live in the moment. I have learned to prioritize happiness. I am learning how to take care of my mental health. I am learning that my passion lies with people, not things. I am making space for my creative life.

 

Happiness

I have recently gotten into watching this series by the Nigerian director Kemi Adetiba called “King Woman.”  “King Woman” is an interview series that feature prominent Nigerian women talking about their lives. It is fascinating to watch because I am Nigerian. Sometimes, I feel like I don’t know how to be a Nigerian woman. It is that conflict that I have in my identity as both Nigerian and American. It has been interesting to realize that there is no such thing as a Nigerian woman. Everybody is making it up as they go along.

I introduced one of my friends to it, and now we talk about each episode in depth. A couple of weeks ago, we started talking about the idea of women owning their stories. One common thread in the interviews has been this idea that a part of the women’s stories was not theirs to tell. It is most evident in that moment when TY Bello, one of the interviewees, pauses before she talks about her sexual assault. She told Ms. Adetiba that she would share the story on the condition that if her husband objects, the footage would not be aired.

I am glad her husband approved because the way she talks about sexual assault as a Nigerian woman is one that is universal, powerful and necessary. Although I don’t  agree with the idea that anyone should own any part of a woman’s story, I understand that moment. In watching that moment, I realized that there are parts of my own story that I don’t tell.  It is one of the reasons why I have a hard time writing. Blogging, for me, is based a lot on my experiences and my thoughts. My inability to be entirely honest about my life has been a roadblock.  I am always afraid of saying too much and embarrassing my family. In many ways, my voice is has been locked down by my shame.

Shame is a central part of my story. It is the weight I carry with me. Shame is also a figure that I am starting to confront head on. I have no reason to be ashamed. There are have been challenges in my life, mostly mental health related, that I am have been nervous to speak about openly. However, I am starting to realize that my power lies in talking about those things that scare me the most. By adding my voice to the chorus speaking about what it means to be a woman, I can help stop some of the stigmas that come with mental health related issues like depression and eating disorders.

So I am taking ownership of my story and promising to talk more honestly about what it means to live with depression and anxiety. I want to talk about my best days and my not-so-good days. I want to be vocal about what makes me happy and be honest about the things that scare me.

For the first time in my life, I feel like I am starting to grasp what it means to be happy. I am finding that happiness, for me, lies in doing things, even imperfectly.

What do you do?

cliche

There is the age old question that happens when you put adults in a room. That question is, “What do you do?”

“What do I do? I am a student.”

“Oh really! What are you studying?”

“I am trying to get into nursing.”

“So good of you to be going back to school.”

“Ha, yes, but the thing is…”

Then I explain how even though I am back in school, I have been in school. I have done school, and I have done it well. Sometimes I need to emphasize that because people become condescending.

Nothing makes me more afraid than being read like a stereotypical black woman. You know the black woman of many a racist imagination; young single mother, uneducated, poor and struggling.

The fact is I am none of those things, except single. I am old, not a mother, definitely educated, earning a living and thriving. I am nobody’s cliche. But as you learn when you have lived in America long enough as a Black woman, nobody gives you the chance to define your existence. Your being is defined for you. Sometimes, when you realize that your autonomy is being taken away, you become defensive.

The thing about going back to school for me is that for the first time in a long time, I feel like I am walking a path to somewhere I want to be . I am not doing it for anybody’s acceptance or to prove that I am intelligent. I am doing it to fulfill my own needs. I am finding every day that because I have nothing to lose, I am enjoying being a student.

Back in that room where I am being maligned for being a student, I have learned to relax and let people make a fool out of themselves. If I am feeling particularly mean, I start talking about my background. On the days that I feel kind, I smile. I have nothing to prove.

 

 

Mastery of Self

doingThere is a story I like to tell about my college years. It is the story of me almost failing Latin as a junior in college. It starts with me studying hard and doing everything I can possibly do to rescue my grade. It ends with me getting a C- in Latin. A C- is the lowest possible grade I could have gotten to pass that class. I am convinced that grade was awarded to me at the discretion of the instructor who saw how hard I worked and wanted to spare me the heartache of having to retake the class.

I have never believed that I am academically gifted. Maybe it comes from a childhood when I often felt like I was struggling to grasp concepts. Through Junior Secondary School at Queen’s College to Senior Secondary School at STEE Academy, I felt like I sometimes just could not get things the way others did. The only thing that was different was that I learned early on that I could not depend on learning everything in class, so I learned to study and how to study.

Developing a mastery of my own learning needs has not saved me from the heartache of bad grades. I think sometimes that is what makes getting a bad grade heartbreaking for me. I feel like I do the best I could absolutely do and sometimes it still goes south. As a 30-year-old student, though, I am learning not to let my school life become the center of my life.

When I first returned to school over the summer, I disappeared. Friends told me that I was gone and it was clear that I was stressed out. Maybe I can justify my imbalance with the excuse that accelerated classes have a way of sucking the life out of you. Maybe it is a good thing it happened because now I am staying away from anything that says accelerated.

In this second phase of my academic life, I am learning that the mastery of self is the beginning of happiness. By tapping into what makes me happy, I am able to create a life that balances my academic goals with my social and personal life. Some days when it all comes together, there is a bliss I feel in knowing that I am doing it all and I am doing it as best as I can.

Piece by Piece

perfection

I was at Ikea earlier today looking to shop for furniture for my room. I have lived in my room for about 1 year now and I have yet to really decorate it the way I want. I always seem to have a reason not to fully decorate.  One reason is because I keep telling myself I would move soon. “I won’t be at the house much longer,” a tiny voice tells me every time I think of decorating and making the space mine.

The problem with this little voice is that it tells me things like this all the time. I never quite take the time I need to create a space I love because something always seems off. The situation needs seems perfect. I always yearn for more. The thing that I am learning is that I can’t pause my pursuit of happiness because my situation is not perfect.

I have been stuck in a rut. So many ideas and no way to see them to fruition because I was too stuck in the rut of waiting to be perfect. If I am not perfect at stage 1, then I can’t get to a point where I feel like my ideas are valid.Lately, I have been missing writing my blog. So many ideas and things to say but no way get my thoughts out. Too stuck in the idea that in order to express myself, I have to have the perfect words and language

Finally, I have finally reached a point where I realize that perfection is my greatest enemy. Perfection is the roadblock that stops me from living a full life. Nobody that appears to have a full life woke up and had everything in place. No perfectly designed room magically appeared with all it pieces in place.

Slowly, I have come to a place of acceptance that my situation is not perfect. I have also come to the realization that I can build my life piece by piece. And I have been doing that. I am have gone on adventures to places close by. One day, my adventures would take me further and to grander places. I have started putting my room together, piece by piece. Last week, I bought myself a bookcase from Walmart. It was not perfect but it brought part of my vision to life. Today at Ikea, I bought a table. It is not perfect but another part of my vision is coming to be.

As I go through it piece of the transformation progress, I have come to a place of realizing that perfect lives are built. Mine isn’t perfect at the moment but I can get closer, piece by piece.

Staying the Course


As part of the process of building structure into my life, I have recently committed to eating home cooked meals. Over this summer, I have indulged in eating out pretty much 75% of my meals. As you can imagine, eating food that is loaded with fat, salt and sugar has not been good on my body.

Lately, I finally got to a point where my weight gain over the last few weeks progressed into a health issues. Yes, I was bummed as my clothes started getting tight. I kept telling myself that I could control eat it but I did nothing different. Finally my body started rebeling. My back has been hurting a lot lately. I feel sluggish. I’m just not happy with the way my body feels from a physiological point of view.

Today is like day 4 of my home cooked journey and I feel like shit. I feel like I’m going through withdrawal from junk food. I have a mean headache, the attention span of a fly and a general lack of energy. As I power through this slump, I’m almost tempted to buy a can of soda and get back on a sugar high. However, I know that this is not the solution I need. I never realized giving up junk food could be this hard. Maybe it is because I’m conscious of my body at the moment that I can feel the slump.

I’m committed to staying the course and recovering from my eating out phase. Instead of buying soda today, I had a few peaches to make me feel better. I have also been having tea today to make this transitional period easier. I’m excited to regain my energy level and start exploring yoga again. I can feel the 30 days of yoga series from Yoga with Adrienne calling my name.

Life Break Over!

ready

I feel like I took a life break. Earlier in the year, I felt overwhelmed. I felt like I was drowning. Somehow the only way to save myself was to make these choices and I made those choices. I think I made good choices. But making those choices changed my life in a good way. But when you are going through a period of growth, everything I can feel tough.

I felt depressed. I felt like I might have made a mistake. How do you quit a job that you have loved so fiercely? How do you stop and take a new path? How do I support myself through school? Who gives up the security of a job for the uncertainty of starting over again?

I did. I quit my job. I started taking classes to become a nurse. I did it and I don’t feel have ever made a better choice. But, I was still terrified.  I stopped eating and cooking properly. I stopped dressing up like I used to. I wasn’t sleeping as well. I stressed out. It took this life break for me get over the anxiety that came with this new journey. I had to learn to trust my decision. I had to trust myself.

And for the first time in about 3 months, I feel like I am ready to get back to me. I am not sure getting back to me is the right phrase. The fact is I feel like I have learned so much about myself in the past 3 months. This summer has been a moment of enlightenment. I have fallen deeply in love with who I am. I have moved closer to my authentic self. I have discovered old and new dreams.  I have done and I am doing things that I always wanted to do. I am thankful for the time I took to just be.

Now that I am, I am ready to create some structure in my life once more. I want to focus on doing again. I want to get back to cooking and eating properly. I want to grow financially. I want to write my blog again. I want to live out my life glamorous once more.

Life break is over. I am ready.

Silent Accomplice

Silence is unacceptable in the face of injustice, and being neutral is being a coward and an accomplice to the evil sides of our history.

Silence is unacceptable in the face of injustice, and being neutral is being a coward and an accomplice to the evil sides of our history.

I have spent the last couple of days processing what to say in this post. If you are on Facebook, you might have seen the post where I stated that a man referred to me in the derogatory “N” word. He calling me a Nigger is not the first time I have had my blackness muddied in America. His word was hurtful but not as terrifying as the low growls of  dog set upon me in the streets of Somerville. Nor was it as soul-crushing as the persistent lack of opportunities I have faced in Boston as a black woman.

 

One of the blessings of my life has always been that my heritage lies in Nigeria, in the grand Yoruba land. My heritage lies in the stories of my ancestors. It lies in the stories I was told as a child in Yoruba. It lies in the songs that I was sung. It lies in my name. In my ‘oriki.’ My strong connection with my past means that in my present I feel no trauma. I have always believed that I am a first class citizen. Not second…first.

For the longest time, I lived in that bubble in America. I went to schools where I was the token black student. Instead of feeling somewhat isolated, I felt I was special and breathing some rarefied air. In the past few years of living in Boston, I have come to realize that my privilege as the token black kid in class is, in fact, another symptom of my second class status in America. The truth is no matter how many doors open for me because I am special or different, as long as the door is not open for all, discrimination still exists. Where discrimination exists, we all remain victims. And some of us, remain perpetrators or even beneficiaries of such discrimination when we remain passive. The truth is if we are unable or refuse to confront/deconstruct the false privileges of being exceptionally black, then we cannot truly begin to claim equal status.

In this age of nuanced racism, I feel bad for people of color who are unable to process the complexities of racism. Sometimes I see a black person express an idea that is so racist and I cringe. Maybe partly because I have been that person. You know that person that claims to be African, not African-American, because we believe we are somehow exceptional and not black. I cringe because I understand that when awareness dawns, this person who is now exceptional would have to deal with accepting their ordinariness and redefining how they see the world.

The thing that makes a lot of racism, as well as other discrimination, so dangerous is the small ways that they sneak up. The truth is, in this day and age, a very few people have the gall to say that they believe that a particular sub-set of people are second class. Those people who wear their bias openly are actually not the most dangerous. They are annoying as hell. The most dangerous people are the people who have conscious, even unconscious, bias that is not clearly expressed. Those people would send you to a mental home trying to figure out if you have just been slighted or you are being overly sensitive.

While I was processing how to write this post, I was lucky to run into this essay by Kevin Powell. His sentence on the silent neutrality being an accomplice to injustice validated my decision to break my vow not to speak about Trump. Early in the election season when Donald Trump first started his craziness, I checked out. I refused to acknowledge him. Maybe it was my privilege or naiveté, I had a feeling that America the great melting pot would strike him out. So I took a voice of silence and told everyone I won’t speak about him. The truth is I don’t like talking about discrimination and racism. Who wants to be an angry black woman? I have had a group of white friends tell me that I have a chip on my shoulder when I tried to engage them on diversity issues.

As much as I loathe discomfort, I refuse to be a coward. I refuse to be an accomplice to injustice. I refuse to luxuriate in black immigrant exceptionalism. I refuse to confuse living in the ghettos of inequality as being accomplished. I am going to start making more comments about what it means to live in a black body. About how I feel unsafe on the train now because I am not sure what lies behind the eyes watching me. About how I am unable to walk on the sidewalk of my neighbors’ house because they have a dog and I am afraid they might set it on me because someone once did. About how I don’t network in Boston because I am usually the only black person or one of a few people of color in a room of professionals. About how I am considering a second career but I am trying to avoid fields that may lead to the black tax.

I refuse to be silent.

March ON!

 

March ONMarch is finally here and I am getting my head fully into the half-marathon training program that I am using. February seems to have snuck up on me and taken away my breathe. I found myself sick for the first two weeks in February. I was quite depressed about it because I thought it would ruin my training. After allowing my body to heal, I got back on the horse and I have to say that I am quite encouraged with the progress I am making.

I have been luck with Boston weather this year because we have not had a significant amount of snow. The weather has been quite warm for winter. This has meant that I am able to run outside instead of just relying on a treadmill for the early part of my training. This is a lucky break because I am discovering that running on a treadmill does not use the same muscles and strength as running outside. First few times I did a training run outside I felt some new muscles that I usually don’t engage when I use the treadmill

Running outside allows me to instinctively understand my body and develop a knack for pacing my runs.

Also running outside allows me to self-regulate my pace. This I am discovering is a critical part of training for race. It is awesome that running on a treadmill forces me to maintain a steady pace but it does not allow for the instinctive understanding of my body. By running outside, I am starting to understand what easy pace means to me. It means being able to breathe easily. It means being able to pick my foot up and put the other down without feeling heavy. And that easy pace is something that I want to sustain as I keep training for this half marathon.

I have been struggling with getting in my strength training and cross-training. I have added yoga to my program as a strength training and cross training activity because I feel like depending on the routine I get both benefits. In March though I am going to try to shift yoga to just a strength training activity.  I am planning on adding spinning as my cross training activity. I read an article in Runner’s World that said cycling gives you the equivalent of an easy run in terms of gaining efficiency in the body during running.

During this period, I have discovered that music makes a big difference in how I feel when I am running. I am absolutely loving Britney Spears’ “Work” like I was last month. That is my don’t quit/dig deep/get into euphoria jam. I definitely need to start making a playlist for the half-marathon.

As for food, I have been having a lot of beets. Beets are supposed to be energizing. Plus I just feel like the extra iron and calcium that I am getting is worth it. I love having my beets in smoothies. I need to clean up my diet a bit, though. I eat a lot of veggies naturally but I feel like I need to be more conscious of eating for function. I am resisting doing that nothing makes me more depressed that having to control my food. I work out so that I can have some freedom with my food. I will probably get more in tune with the necessary diet the closer I get to the race day. For now, I am practicing my regular moderation.

I am actually excited about all the changes going on with my body as I get more runs in. No, I am not losing a crazy amount of weight but my body is changing. I feel my strength in little and big ways. During yoga today, plank was not as hard as it used to be. I walked a steep hill the other day with a heavy bag and I barely felt it. It is moments like these that make me realize that my body is registering all my hard work. Hopefully, the commitment to training would see me to the finish line.