Mic...Pick Up

*taps mic* Hello, is this thing on? 

As I type this, I am simultaneously blowing away virtual dust from the pages of this blog. It's been awhile since I've shared here. Although, I have been micro-blogging through social platforms like Twitter on just about any aspect of my life that seems relevant in that moment. 

I always have a lot to say, but not really much at all. My timelines are mainly random rants about current events, the plight (and joys) of motherhood, and shares of things from other users that echo my same sentiments. My words have been willfully lazy and not nearly as reflective of the old me who would attempt to be more rational. Now, whatever fills my head is usually what spills onto the internet. 

Yes, I know this shit is forever

I'm still empathetic and sympathetic. I'm just a little less apologetic, something I should have been a long time ago. I'm about three decades too late, friends. But I will make up for that. Trust me!

My creativity has been halted by raised levels of anxiety, responsibility—and mostly—exhaustion. The occasional doodle session with my little guy or a brainstorming session with my big guy for a school assignment are holding me over for now. But I'm itching for that one thing that will fuel my fire again, a figurative explosion of some sorts. I need to feel the burn of something besides a hot glue gun.

Damn —I miss the old Ke-ye.

My intentions weren't to come here today to get you caught up on my wavering sanity. It was really a heat check, to see if I still had any words in me to fill this tiny piece of space that I carved out for myself years ago. I wanted to see if my head still matched my heart, and vice versa. They do, just not on the same days. I'm okay with this.

What's been holding me hostage for so long is the need to check off all the boxes of some imaginary list of belonging. Being a spectator in this arena of success—in the nosebleed section, might I add—can sometimes leave you feeling like you have to be more than a cheerleader. Like you can't just sit in the stands as a fan of others who are soaring, while you figure out when you'll go from the crowd to the court and join the game. Sometimes sitting on the bench isn't a bad thing either (and neither is an analogy like this when sports have been temporarily stripped from your life over a viral epidemic). My time will come.

I've always challenged my own worth and talent. I tell myself it's a form of self-love and motivation for me to do better. It hasn't worked thus far, so I may have to employ other tactics. For now, I'll have to quiet my subconscious when it dances on my shoulders and whispers in my ear that I'm not enough. I am. Validation be damned!

I can't promise that I'll ever get my head and heart to line up perfectly ever again, or that I'll return to this space frequently with something inspiring or thought-provoking to share. But what I can promise is that I'll always show up for my purpose. Whatever tugs at my heart and/or head will face little to no resistance; I will oblige.

I've lost so many people in my life over the past years that it would be a tragedy if I lost myself, while I'm still living, breathing and able.

Here's to showing up to where we are suppose to be, and most importantly, where we want to be...unapologetically. I see you, shorty. 

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