Girl, Go Sit Down Somewhere! Reflections on Faith and Gratitude

Back in June, I got into an accident and fractured my knee. I want to paint a picture of the time that I was in in my life: imagine getting on a carousel, or better yet, one of those horizontal escalator walkway things at the airport. Before stepping onto the walkway, you may be at a normal walking pace, or slightly quicker because you’re in a rush. You step on, and you’re moving faster because of the walkway underneath you. You have the choice to 1) stop walking, and ride the wave — or in this case, the walkway — because it’s already moving at a certain speed on your behalf, so you have a chance to rest and let the motorized runway do the work for you. Or 2) continue walking, only now at an accelerated pace, running the risk of tripping or stuttering once you get off.

This metaphor is essentially my June 2023. I was entering a whole month off of work for a summer sabbatical, and boy did I need that time! Burnout tends to sneak up on me because I’m trying to do it all. I was working, killing the game professionally, networking, maintaining hobbies like heels classes and yoga, dating, reading and writing for my blog, and trying to maintain a social life and make sure I spend time with my friends and family. I’m tired just writing that! Part of why I think that I pile on everything is because of the pressure I place on myself to make sure that I’m living the life of my dreams. What I didn’t do enough of, though, was love the life that I have.

So it’s the first half of my June break, and it wasn’t feeling like much of a break because I was doing the most. I was stepping on the metaphorical walkway and could have stopped walking and enjoyed the ride, but nooooo lol, I decided to keep moving. I had things to do! People to see! Places to be! On this particular day, rather than sitting at home and drinking some water or something (lol), I decided to get dressed and scooter to Sweetgreen to buy an (absolutely delicious) salad, then sit at a coffee shop and begin writing and reading. Was getting dressed and leaving the house going to burn about an hour of productive time? Of course. But I’d wired my brain to something along the lines of “I do my best writing when I’m cute and outside”. So I got dressed, walked to the nearest motorized scooter, put on my Age of Pleasure playlist, and began my commute.

One second, I’m rolling through the beautiful Atlanta summer weather on my scooter. The next minute, I’m face down in the middle of a four-way intersection, bleeding and scrambling for my airpods that have rocketed into the street along with my cute self! I military crawl to the curb, and assess how bad I’ve hurt myself. First, I wiggle my toes to ensure I’m not paralyzed (I’m not — check). I look down at both knees, which are now gashed open, bleeding, one down to the white meat, and the other increasingly swelling. God bless the white family that drove up to me, proclaimed that they saw the entire thing, carried me into their car, drove me home, carried me up to my apartment, gave me Advil, and made me an ice pack for my knee that now resembled a kankle because of the swelling. I hope this family is doing amazing — I was too in shock to get their information and send them a thank you card or something. It wasn’t until after they left my apartment that the tears started to fall and I called Mommy.

God is written all over this message right here — when I finally got the diagnosis of my injury being a fracture in my knee, The doctor informed us that there would be no surgery and no stitches — quite literally, in order for my fracture to heal, the antidote was to sit down somewhere.

One of my therapy goals has been emotional regulation — specifically, letting myself feel feelings instead of “I got it”-ing my way out of them or letting them bubble up and lay dormant in my body, my breath, my tense shoulders, my tight hips, pimples on my face. I hurt myself during the accident, called my mom, had to get carried around because I couldn’t walk due to the pain and swelling, and was given crutches and an immobility brace for my left leg. In those moments I was vulnerable. I had no choice but to cry, feel frustration, feel pain. I couldn’t “I got it” my way out of this one! I went from doing the most to not being able to do a daggone thing but sit down somewhere. I couldn’t walk, I couldn’t cook, I couldn’t even sit on the toilet without feeling pain and needing help. I’m not gonna write this and act like this period of time wasn’t frustrating — the hydrogen peroxide burned, I couldn’t find a comfy way to lay down without my knee hurting. Hence, I was constantly tired and cranky, the immobility brace was a blue, bulky velcro fashion nightmare, and my home was becoming a little too AARP-adjacent because of my new ADA-compliant shower seat, toilet seat, and handrail accommodations. Instead of a hot girl summer, I was feeling a different type of heat because of cabin fever. I wanted to be outside!!!!!

One of the hardest parts of this was the unknown timespan of my healing. How long was it going to take before I could walk again? Before my knee didn’t look like a kankle? Before I could go back to heels classes, R&B only parties, and walks in the park? Admittedly, I was particularly feeling heated because I had a Beyonce concert to attend, and the sheer thought of not being able to make it to Beyonce after the hell and high water that was navigating Ticketmaster broke my heart. The worst-case scenarios and “wtf is happening to me” thinking was definitely real.

One of my mentors gave me a word that calmed my spirit about my situation. She told me about a time when she was applying for a job that was coveted as the place to be in her small town. She didn’t get the job. Unbeknownst to her, she would get a job offer in Atlanta about a month later, that would be one of the best jobs of her career and set the scene for an amazing professional journey. When she didn’t get the initial position, she was crushed emotionally. She didn’t know that she would only feel this way for a few weeks — the time period for the level-up and ascension was unknown. The message was this: if she had known that she would only be in that dark place for a finite period of time, and was given the countdown time, how would she be spending that time differently? What would this “wait” time be like if she knew how long that time was? As my mentor beautifully affirmed for me, I needed to find “comfort in the coming”. A word!!

So in the spirit of turning lemons into lemonade, I did a few things during this “sit down somewhere” period. Firstly, I iced out my crutches, customizing them with silver rhinestones all over. My people can attest to the fact that my bedazzled crutches became the talk of the town, shifting the focus from my injury to my fabulousness (in typical Libra rising fashion). Later, these same crutches got my homegirl and I upgraded floor seats at the Renaissance World Tour (another story for another day!).

Beyond the icy crutches, I also upped my prayer game. I had no choice but to lean on God, and faith in whatever lesson I was being taught amid this injury. Faith has been one of the keys to staying present and unlocking more genuine gratitude in my life. In a podcast interview between Janelle Monae and Zane Lowe, they talk about the obsession with time and the importance of staying present. In the episode, Janelle Monae describes the importance of having friends around that keep them present and centered — “For a chunk of my career, I could be at a party thinking about an awards show or a photo shoot or an idea…what’s next…but there’s so much joy in the present.”

She then references a quote: “If you’re thinking about the future, you’re sitting in anxiety, if you’re thinking about the past, you’re sitting in depression.” Major key alert!! I think about this with my faith because, in the moments of my injury, I could not control the situation. I couldn’t control or do much of anything (I couldn’t even stand or sit without help!), let alone control how quickly I would heal. Relinquishing that control, and surrendering to the situation at hand gave me no choice but to move on faith. Faith that I would heal gloriously. Faith that there was a reason for this season and a method to the madness of this thing called life. Faith that I was gon’ be alright.

I remember amid my frustration and the “wtf is happening” phases of this time, I was ultimately frustrated with being frustrated. I prayed to God specifically in these moments and it sounded a little like this: “I don’t know what is happening or why, but God, I am giving this all to you. Do your thing. I love you, I trust you, and I know in your hands imma be alright.” In hindsight, the moments in my life that I’ve moved on this type of timing, the type of jump off the cliff and pray for a parachute kinda moments, where I was moving through the unknown with unrequited confidence, I was always, always, always, taken care of. I think about the decision to go to boarding school in New Hampshire at 14 years old. Or the legacy of women before me who have made sacrifices for generations they haven’t even met. Or the liberation movements in Black history where faith and prayer were the fuel and the people were the engine. These are the shoulders that I stand on.

 
Speaking of Janelle Monae mentioning how friends kept them present and centered, I have to shout out to my community. Amid these emotional lows, my friends and family showed up for me in ways that made me feel so loved. My homegirls sent me care packages and paint sets, called me regularly, and came over to binge-watch The Oval (don’t ask lol). My mom came by multiple times a week to take out the trash, do my laundry, straighten up my house, bring me home-cooked meals, and bandage my wounds. It’s not that they weren’t showing up for me before — but it felt so good to be genuinely taken care of. It felt good to not have it all together and lean on my circle the way that they can lean on me.

In retrospect, I realize that there’s a thin line between multiplicity and doing the most. I get so enveloped in the life that I want, and operating in radical vision, that I do the absolute most trying to achieve it all right now. There’s a connection here to capitalism and grind culture of course, but I also think that it’s because of how fiercely and clearly I see the abundant life that is in store for me. However, being the high-achieving doing the most lady that I default to because of capitalist conditioning and my pace legacy, I can succumb to the trap that I always have to be doing, doing, doing to achieve what I want. I realized in my injury, where I was forced to saddown somewhere, that there will always be something to fix, something to do, something to improve, something to budget, something to be better at — but loving the life I have right now is the most important thing. This phase of my life made me truly grateful for the teeniest of things as I was healing from my accident. This included the ability to go to Target, to afford physical therapy, the ability to cook, extreme and abundant gratitude for my homegirls, my mother, and the hand that God has on my life. 

As Janelle Monae says in that podcast, “The present is my north star”. I still have  a lot of learning to do, and sitting down feels uncomfortable sometimes but I’m the best at it I’ve ever been. My mom always reminds me on the phone if I snap into what she calls “Exeter Mode”, talking too fast and doing too much. I’ve started meditating, and it’s not a firm practice yet but I’m excited by the possibilities that will continue to flow within my stillness. I’m still figuring out the balance in all of the things, but I trust (and have faith in the fact) that with intention I will get there.  And I am grateful, oh so grateful, for the present. 
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