It was an ordinary day of the week; I climbed back into bed one evening after a “midnight joint” to alleviate anxiety. As I settled into the sheets next to my daughter, I heard a foreign sound. I live in a studio apartment, at times I can hear the humming of the fridge or the extractor in the bathroom, but this sound was different, intuitive.
I was once asked what my dream apartment would look like. I sat and thought about it for a while…
I decided to share the news of my pregnancy with close friends and colleagues very early into my first trimester. I’d manifested my baby and I didn’t feel as though sharing THE BIG NEWS had an inception date, especially when sharing with people close to me. The news caught wind at work and an incident occurred with a manager who insinuated that I shouldn’t have shared this so early on. Some words were had and I felt gutted. Talk about trying to steal someone’s joy.
We’ve been hating on 2020 all year long because out of any other year this decade, she was the most coercive catalyst for introspection, well in my opinion at least. We’ve already crept into mid-October with oil tails tucked between our legs, but on somedays, emotionally; I’m still in March trying process what the fuck just happened?
