Encouragement
The wind was more brisk than usual on the day we buried Nana. I can still hear the staggering echo of the earth as a gray slab of concrete sealed her body away forever. I never imagined my journey of rebirth would parallel the season of my matriarch’s death. Yet, I recently decided to start living vivaciously – without any apologies.
For 25 years, I lived as a codependent. I carried other people’s burdens and, consequently, became an enabler to some of my closest relatives - those who should have been my caregivers. My grandmother, a wise woman and an insightful theologian, raised me with a strong foundation in the Word of God. Yet, I still felt cheated out of the normalcy and naiveté that characterize a typical childhood with Mommy and Daddy. Growing up without seeing my parents come together as one in marriage is perhaps the only dream that I’ve ever given up on.
I wanted to rest my head on my mother’s bosom, despite the fact that her breath was laced with liquor. I longed to capture her absolute attention and be the subject of her endearment. It seemed like a perpetual battle between me and Ellis; me and Carlos; me and whoever the man for the moment might have been. Therefore, I assumed the responsibility of placating her while I smothered my emotions in the process.
My father, hailed as a courageous firefighter, became so engulfed with the art of aggression that he struggled in forming a relationship with me. I never have known my place in his heart because my stepmother and her children (whom I label as “my father’s family”) always took precedence over me. The edges of my heart were scathed and tattered as I observed his blasé attitude toward me - his firstborn child.
Over the course of the past seven years, the battle in my mind had sentenced my soul to a sweltering purgatory. My psyche regurgitated scenes of the abusive lacerations my mother suffered at the hands of my father and other crazed lovers. The chronic nagging of my heart for my absent father carried me in a vicious circle: I begged for attention and was rejected, comforted my now alcohol-free mother but was habitually criticized, and waited for someone to tell me that I was necessary to their happiness. My Nana’s death was my turning point. I unearthed the secrets of my soul and made life-altering discoveries.
Through a month of solitude and fasting, I discovered that I had simply been living out a script that was given to me. I needed to unravel the mysteries of my past and let the warmth of the Holy Spirit melt the cold, rigid areas of my soul. I discovered that I had always been driven by performance. I thought that if I made the right grades, spoke with the most precise diction, dotted every “i” and crossed every “t”, that I would be loved. After much introspection, I came to the conclusion that I had fallen under the weight of people pleasing. No longer was I going to believe that perfection was the key to happiness; on the contrary, it is impossible to achieve such a lofty ambition in this earthen vessel.
All of my life, I had entreated God as though I had to prove that I was worthy of His affection and love. I failed to realize that God just wanted me to know that my faith in Him was what brought a smile to His Face. I am still on the journey to complete wholeness in Christ. Let me assure you; there’s no sweeter place to be than in the arms of the Lover of My Soul.
Codependency was my crippling drug of circumstance for 25 years. It cast a gloomy, gray shadow on the dreamy rose-colored glasses that I naively wanted to call “life”. Now, I realize that living for the love of me is one of the greatest gifts that I can give to myself and the world. I know the truth and it has set me free.
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Imani...Powerfully presented, beautifully written and wonderously encouraging...thanks for sharing! - Jay Cookingham
wonderful article, keep writing
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