I’m free. And it’s a new day. It’s amazing how things can change, with or without our permission, and how information comes to us when we least expect it. I know it all sounds so cryptic, but let me explain from the beginning. See, I’ve been having trouble with my emotion center. It’s been like in overdrive for almost a year, since my cousin passed away. I thought I was doing all right with that, but maybe not so much. I just know that after that happened, my outlook on life changed, my view of the future changed, and well, that’s pretty much everything when you think about it. If nothing matters today, what would be the point of laying the groundwork for tomorrows? Nothing is promised, and no one knows the day or the hour when it can be all over. Then we lost another cousin in a car accident–24 years old. My brother Reggie is still in a coma two years later, and I keep thinking about dumb stuff we would laugh at, but I remember…. And then some other stuff started to unfold, betrayals were exposed, friendships were ended, and all kinds of human junk I never used to have any part of. Back in the day I just could not be bothered with sadness or crying or anything because it wouldn’t change a thing. And I didn’t for a long time.
So anyway, I quit school last fall, because again what would be the point? I hate school anyway. The professors are condescending and unrealistic to me, the curriculum is beneath me, it costs too much in the end, politicians aren’t making it better, and I seriously do not care about interacting with a bunch of kids several times in any week to get credit for it. Pass. Yeah, attitude is like way poor. Anyway, I was looking for a job, but it became very clear that these positions are written with just enough specifics to exclude the girl off the street (that would be me) and favor the ones who have used their systems and know their lingo. Right. It was like I’m just gonna die, probably in the middle of it, so what the hell. It was way deep.
Long story short, my recent rut got so bad, I couldn’t take the information from my head and put it to paper. I couldn’t write. The thoughts kept coming, and I could see clearly what I wanted to say, but I just couldn’t make it come together in logical fashion or put my fingers to the keys. Then it got dangerous–I thought I just didn’t want to do it anymore, because I didn’t feel it, and because nobody seemed to care what I said anyway. It’s kind of ironic; I didn’t feel it because I was feeling so much other stuff. I just did not want to care about anything else anymore, ever, if I didn’t choose to. I’m tired of emotions being shoved into my space and me having to deal with them. I can’t write my way out of every emotional situation. I know; crazy lady walking. Then I went to a funeral for a beautiful human being, who fought cancer the last few years, and it just opened up years of stuff, and that one last song took me back to December 4, 1998 when my best friend was buried. I hadn’t heard it since. The Battle is Not Yours. Tore me up. But I think I needed that. It was like I literally opened up. I think that’s when all this really began–1998, my first real heartbreak.
Fast forward to last Monday, August 20, 2012. I decided that I needed to celebrate. Life is so dynamic, and unpredictable, and harsh, and a million other things, but there is something to be said for being “beautifully human.” That was the title of the sermon from the funeral a couple of weeks ago. I am this woman, with all that encompasses, and I am one incredible creation, beautiful in all my components. And I’m here! I chose to celebrate me, and give thanks for my 42 years–for like eight days straight. The icing on the cake was the phone calls from old friends who took me away from my everyday and talked for hours, laughed with me, got me drunk (THAT was funny), introduced me to new places and foods, and just hung out with me, like old times. See, I had forgotten what that was like, because I was closed off. I was exhausted by this Monday by the way; I’m too old for some of that stuff, but it was a nice reminder of who I used to be.
Today I listened to the radio as I cooked my breakfast. Melanie Fiona, Jordin Sparks, Whitney Houston, the O’Jays, and Natalie Cole all took me places. They got me to thinking about how total strangers can touch people for years and years just by doing what they love, and putting that special signature something on it to make you feel like they did it just for you. I think that’s the honesty in it; it’s created with heart and soul, and that’s why you can feel it. I saw a piece of the Rihanna interview with Oprah, and as she talked about her grandmother, I thought we’re all the same when you get right down to it, made of the same stuff. But I say all that to say amidst it all, I found me.
I guess it was all part of the process. It was the feelings that got me started. It was the feelings and the people that kept me in it, because that’s what I write about, and that’s how I keep it honest. When you get a Tonya D. Floyd product, you get heart and soul, borne of blood, sweat, and tears. You get something you can feel because I felt it first, and you see yourself there, because you know it’s real. I am an artist, and it’s my job to draw realistic pictures of life that make you want to keep reading, insisting your friends and family read, and give the gift of good reading to others. It’s never been about the money; it’s about sharing this “beautifully human” existence and knowing you’re not alone. It’s about the connection to other human beings, and the comfort that brings. I remember now.
From the mind of:
Tonya D. Floyd, Author/Owner
Versatili-T Creations LLC
Celebrate life!
www.Versatili-T.com