More Myself: A Journey

But there’s still more I can do, other ways for me to grow and — as I keep relearning — it’s okay to own a desire for more. In fact, it’s how we honor those who have paved the way for our place at the table. “You don’t want modesty,” Maya Angelou once said, “you want humility. Humility comes from inside out. It says someone was here before me and I’m here because I’ve been paid for. I have something to do and I will do that because I’m paying for someone else who has yet to come.” When we dim our light we don’t do anyone a favor. It’s a disservice because when you’re in the presence of someone who knows his or her worth, like the extraordinary Maya did, you want to shine brighter. Self-honoring energy is contagious.

It’s hard to pinpoint the precise moment when we internalize others’ assessments; it’s usually not just a single experience but rather a series of moments that bruise the spirit and lead us to distrust ourselves and those around us.

Growth requires movement. And often, the only way forward is through an exit door.

The path to self-discovery is not a straight line. It’s a zigzag. We move in and out of awareness: one step forward, three steps to the left, a baby step back, another leap forward. A lightbulb moment might shine brightly one day, but then flicker the next. It takes work to hold tightly to a certain consciousness, to live in its wisdom. Every day, I have to intentionally maintain an awareness of my value.

Death is a gift meant to wake up the living, to nudge us toward a life of purpose and intention.

When life forces you to face yourself, what awaits in the mirror is a gift: vulnerability. Your heart is pierced. You’re broken open. You’re hyperaware of what you’re feeling.

And when I reveal my true heart, not everyone is going to approve. What I know now is that I don’t need them to.

We adjust ourselves to fit, to adapt to others’ ideas of who we should be. We shift ourselves not in sweeping pivots but in movements so tiny that they are hardly perceptible even in our view. Years can pass before we finally discover that after handing over our power, piece by small piece, we no longer even look like ourselves.

But from this side of life, I can see how every moment, every experience, every pivot, even my supposed missteps have been life’s way of getting me where I have always been meant to go. Rather than resisting the current, I’ve learned to surrender.

It has been about realizing that in order for the truth to set me free, I must first be brave enough to birth it.

Nothing but uncertainty is certain. Circumstances come together, only to fall apart moments or months later. And then, in a flash, we must rise up and regain our footing. In the rearview mirror, I now see so clearly what escaped me then: It’s not that the ground underneath me was suddenly shifting; it’s that it is never still. That’s part of the work of my journey—getting comfortable with life’s groundlessness.

Bliss is a beautiful destination, but you can often only reach its shores after a turning point. It’s as if the universe is testing you to be sure you are strong enough to make it through the murky waters, not just the serene ones, so that you can move to a new and unknown place in yourself.

For as long as I am alive, I will be growing and improving, wielding my pen as the author of my own forever. But even as I lift my life to the next level, I hope to always recognize my reflection. I want to know who I am and accept every part of that identity. I am frightened and I am fearless. I am weak and a warrior. I am uncertain and I am confident. And by learning to embrace the paradox in all of it, I am more myself.

It has been said that a girl grows up to choose a man who either bears a striking resemblance to her father, or one who is nothing like him. Both choices are, at their core, reactions.

There’s also the multicultural side of me, the biracial ancestry that allows me to connect with a wide spectrum of people. And then there’s my spirit, that blend of glass-half-full optimism, introverted reflection, and outward-facing social activism.

It’s hard to pinpoint the precise moment when we internalize others’ assessments; it’s usually not just a single experience but rather a series of moments that bruise the spirit and lead us to distrust ourselves and those around us. And then we wake up at age seventeen or twenty-five or thirty-seven and realize we don’t know the last time we’ve lived life only to please ourselves.

When you don't speak the truth for years at a time, the words left unspoken slowly leak the air out of your connection. Even if, years later, you are ready to say what you couldn't earlier, the moment has passed. The details and circumstances have faded from memory, and yet the emotions linger. And then the day finally comes when you no longer recognize the person you first loved.

We adjust ourselves to fit, to adapt to others’ ideas of who we should be. We shift ourselves not in sweeping pivots, but in movements so tiny that they are hardly perceptible, even in our view. Years can pass before we finally discover that, after handing over our power piece by small piece, we no longer even look like ourselves.

We don't draw loved ones into our lives coincidentally. They're there to shine a light on our unfinished emotional business, to reveal to us our deepest tendencies. And as my life is proving to me even now, those patterns appear time and again, often cleverly disguised. And they'll keep right on showing up until we're willing to truly look at them.

The world can be a challenging place for us women to navigate. We often find ourselves feeling burned out, incapable, and lonely and yet we’re still so resilient.

In Metaphysics, Aristotle wrote that Egypt is the “cradle of mathematics—that is, the country of origin for Greek mathematics.” Some historians believe that when European societies eventually began enslaving Africans, they also started downplaying the major contributions of both the ancient Nile River Valley civilizations and the kemetic culture, as well as concealing its African lineage.

I now see so clearly what escaped me then: It’s not that the ground underneath me was suddenly shifting; it’s that it is never still. That’s part of the work of my journey—getting comfortable with life’s groundlessness.

Keep dreaming in color And drawing your dreams On cement floors Until they are realized. —Alicia Keys

When you’ve chosen the right path for yourself, you usually know it immediately. The choice just sits right in your spirit. You’re not second-guessing your decision or thinking about turning back. You realize there are challenges ahead, but you’re not looking over your shoulder, wishing you’d gone left instead of right at the last fork in the road.

often, the only way forward is through an exit door.

I can show weakness. I can be real. And when I reveal my true heart, not everyone is going to approve. What I know now is that I don’t need them to.

We don't draw loved ones into our lives coincidentally. They're there to shine a light on our unfinished emotional business, to reveal to us our deepest tendencies. And as my life is proving to me even now, those patterns appear time and time again, often cleverly disguised. And they'll keep right on showing up until we're willing to truly look at them.

When you love someone, you love their journey—

All my best decisions in life have come when I tuned into what felt like the best moves for me. I’d spent much of my life looking to others for answers, allowing their opinions to drown out my instincts. My default was to substitute others desires for my own. In fact, I’d done that so much that it became a habit, one I’m still unlearning. I’ve needed a lot of practice at putting my own ideas and intuition at the forefront and Oprah was encouraging me to again rehearse....That afternoon Oprah articulated the lesson to me in a way that turned on the lights. “You know what a resounding ‘yes’ feels like,” she said, “it’s undeniable. Nothing’s going stop you from doing it. You’re excited. You don’t have to convince yourself to move forward. You simply know this is the right thing.” And that is what I live by. I’ve made a lot of decisions from my head. I’ve chosen to go in this direction or that one based on finances, or because something seems like a great opportunity, or because I don’t want to hurt peoples feelings or disappoint them, or because someone is pushing me toward an agenda that serves them. But when I’ve listened to my heart, when I’ve trusted what my spirit is telling me, that ‘yes’ has always steered my right.

Who are we really? What are all the various pieces that form us? Which parts of ourselves do we embrace or dismiss, and what does that mean or not mean? Most of us are comfortable with expressing certain aspects of ourselves, while other sides might get left in the shade by default. For me, the latter was apparently happening on an unconscious level.