Tag: growth

So it begins.

Life.

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Today makes a week without my baby. I love talking about the good things that come with moving to Nigeria, but the tough stuff seems to lay low. I’m having to break ties that I thought I could manage. In this case, though, I was fully aware that I Aries wasn’t coming to Africa. I knew when I got accepted into the program that I would have to find a home for my best friend. He’s grown to be such a loving and compassionate dog. I know it may seem silly to some, but when I first got diagnosed, he was my personification of peace and rest. If you’ve read my blog about him, you get an image of the way he emotionally, spiritually, and physically took care of me before my surgery. There were nights he sat still enough to help me get up off the floor if I’d passed out from blood loss. There were days when he became my pillow by the toilet because I couldn’t keep anything down, but my body wanted to sleep. There were evenings when I just couldn’t move, and shouldn’t have tried, so he didn’t let me. He’s was my protector. He’s the most energetic and hyper ball of ridiculousness, but when I needed him to be my rock, he was.

Sleeping without him is gonna take some getting used to. I promised authenticity throughout this journey, so that means not every post will be a beaming ray of sunshine. That means that I may have days where obedience to God hurts. I’m finally starting to understand what it means in Matthew 10:39

“Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.”

I could easily go over and visit him, but he is now able to serve elsewhere (just like mommy). I have to start detaching eventually, right? He’s become that same source of serenity for a young woman who needs him. I’m thankful that it has all happened that way, and I don’t count it a coincidence. I won’t type a crazy long blog about how hard it is learning life without Tut, but I will say that I’m thankful to have had such a sweet friend in him. I think this is the beginning of an extremely hard transitioning phase. I’m ready. This isn’t the most profound piece I’ve ever written. I don’t have any special nuggets of knowledge to share. I didn’t have a revelation of any sort. I simply miss my dog. I think missing people, and pets alike, is okay. It shows us that we’re still human. It shows us that the ways of the world don’t have us so emotionally calloused that we can no longer feel. I can experience a loss of any kind and mourn it freely. I’m thankful for that. I know so many people who are breaking down unthinkable walls, including myself, so it’s encouraging to be reminded that every brick …

no matter how small …

is being removed.

 

 

Thank you for reading.

I love you.

I am Woman.

Life.

This is my first time posting on the website since I made the decision to have a complete abdominal hysterectomy. I felt myself walk away from writing. I felt myself walk away from opening my heart to the world (or at least the small section of you who follow me) and I was confident that this was okay. Not anymore. In creating this blog, I vowed to share the authentic pieces of life that most people cower away from. I promised my readers that no matter the circumstance, I was their open book. My sole purpose is to reach at least one person who is encouraged enough by my story to either share their own or break free from bondage. This blog was supposed to be a source of service, and service does not stop when it gets hard, so neither will I.

I had the surgery on May 9, 2018. It wasn’t until 9 days later, at exactly 3:19pm that I pressed my head up against my mama and wept. I wasn’t naïve enough to think that I would be okay immediately after, but the crying was so raw, so intense, so painful, that all I could do was sleep after. She held me. I’ve never been held like that before, and I’m thankful that even in the depths of my brokenness, her love prevailed.

Fair warning, this may be a long post, but as these tears rub against my cheeks, I’m confident it’s supposed to be shared in its fullness.

I won’t talk about the sleepless night, the desire to walk on days I couldn’t, or even the physical pain that came with surgery. I want to share more about the mental battle I found myself in; the battle for my joy. There were a few words I wrote over and over again in my journal. I went back and highlighted them so I could visualize their continuity in my heart. These words have led to more growth than I could conjure up on my own, and I’m excited to share. The pictures in this post are a product of a photo-shoot that was supposed to exemplify the beauty in that. There is beauty in my process, and although many people may not sit and wait for it to bloom, I know it’s coming. I thank God for sending Emily  , her camera, and her love for service in truth my way.

LIFE+ POWER + WOMANHOOD

Life: This one has been fairly new in my journal, and conversation with friends. I’ve written life 78 times since the morning of my procedure. Many of those times, it was paired with the word “Create.” I felt like I’d completely relinquished my ability to create life. I felt broken, but more than that, I felt like I’d broken myself. Maybe I should have taken better care. Maybe I should have had kids sooner. Maybe I should have done things differently, and I would be able to do one of the most beautiful things this dark world has to offer; create new life. I gravitate toward nature. Flowers, trees, animals, generally anything that goes through a process most people won’t sit and watch– in order to become what it is intended to be. I found life in myself. I saw growth that I’d started to ignore because I was losing a part of me that I’d cherished for so long. I learned that I have the ability to breathe life. My words have power, and in using them to glorify God and serve His people, I can rest in the fact that losing the ability to give birth naturally is a loss, but a gain one in the same.

 Sunflower

Power: Since May 9th, I’ve written the word power in my journal a total of 157 times. Power is simply defined as one’s ability to do something. It almost seems silly to say it, and quite honestly, when I mentioned having struggled with power very few people understood. I’d felt like I lost power over my life. Not only was I unable to decide whether or not to have children, I was at a place physically where my body didn’t allow me to do anything. There were days I couldn’t stand up, walk, bathe, bend, stretch, and I never realized how the ownership over my physical self was being stripped away. It hurt. I felt useless and more than that powerless. It took weeks for me to finally sit down, anger in my heart and fear in my eyes, and admit that this power was never mine. Time and time again I tried to justify my brokenness with half-hearted encouragements. I needed to fully rely on God, and so I did. The power of His love has slowly been restored in me. I’ve never felt more empowered and driven to bask in the fact that even I am precious. I am fierce. I cannot be duplicated, and there is no woman like me. He created me uniquely beautiful from the inside out, and I love it.

Shakiya

Womanhood: Since April 9th, I’ve written the word womanhood in my journal 198 times. Clearly, it’s been heavy on my mind. Dear people in this life, when a woman is faced with barrenness, please, I beg of you, do not say “Well there’s always adoption…”

  1. This completely disregards the fact that she had a desire that has been stripped away. That in itself hurts. So, imagine walking into the hospital and handing that same desire over along with its future possibility… saying, “well do this INSTEAD” is a dagger. Stop it. I know people who have gone their entire lives wanting something, and that desire is there because it has every right to be. There’s no sense in offering up an obvious ‘solution’.
  2. This completely disregards the fact that these women are likely mourning the death of an unborn child. That may sound farfetched to some but think about it. In conversation, most people mention what sort of parent they’ll be if they aren’t already. They discuss the desire for a son or daughter and why. It’s pretty common. That’s gone. Respect that loss.

In addition, I felt like because I’m unmarried, and childless, my worth in society somewhat plummeted. Hi, I’m Shakiyla Solomon, an educated Black woman and whether or not you want to admit it, that means nearly nothing in American society today. Few people will get excited or even encourage women in their careers, traveling, personal growth, or entrepreneurship because those things don’t make a “woman.” GRANTED, these are not absolutes, and I’m thankful that there are some exceptions, but for the most part, marriage and children define womanhood. I love my life. I love the direction it is going and I’m thankful that I’m finally at a point where the world’s desires for me don’t align with mine and that’s okay. I didn’t realize how much society had molded my own thinking, and in this silence, I found freedom. Does that mean I won’t adopt? Absolutely not. Does that mean I’m shunning all men? Not at all. What I am doing though, is living life at the pace its moving and learning to embrace it. I’m growing.

Shakiyla

These three words continue to penetrate my mind and heart, and as I sift through my personal healing, I’m learning that there is peace on the other side. I will soon be in Africa, and there I will have the ability to love, serve, and lead children and young adults in the ways of love and life. I have been granted the opportunity to serve in a capacity I never thought possible. I’m thankful for these lessons, and more than anything, I’m thankful for the evident growth that has come along with them. Find your truths. Find the things that are hiding behind the lies that have slowly drowned you. Cover them. If you feel like you can’t find them. If you feel like you are an exception and that there is no peace awaiting you, message me and we can work on finding and/or creating one together.

Thank you for reading.

I love you.

Meet Elijah.

Family.

 

I haven’t posted on my “Meet a Friend” page in quite some time, so here goes:

Elijah is my little brother. He’s the oldest of the two but will always be my baby. I’ve watched him go from being a complete MUTE, to shining light in people’s lives with his love and encouraging words. I realized how much I admired Lijah when I was about 18 years old. I was going through some things and I found myself blaming my father, or the lack thereof. I sat down with Elijah, 13-year-old Elijah, and just said I was angry. I’m not sure if he remembers it, but I always will. The only thing he said was, “We supposed to forgive.” I was pissed. I didn’t know how to respond or react, and I don’t think he understood the level of wisdom those words carried. We weren’t necessarily “close” at that time, and he very well could have been trying to shut me up, but it was in that moment I realized, he was going to change me.

I know all of this may sound corny to some of you, but maybe you have to know my battle with forgiving my father and understanding my relationships with men to understand that this was something I did NOT want to hear, let alone from my little brother.

About ten years later, and he’s my best friend. He picks me up when I’m down. He carries my burdens like I will never understand. He hurts when I hurt and rejoices when I rejoice. He talks to me about the ugliest of sins and the most beautiful victories. There are times when I confide in him with things that most people wouldn’t believe, and I do it with the utmost confidence and delight.

He often tells me how much he looks up to me, and to be quite frank, I don’t know why. He’s seen me at my worst. He’s watched me weep over things and people that I can’t change. He’s watched me lose myself in anger and emotion. He’s watched me break myself and other people down. I think the beauty in our relationship, though, is that he’s watched me grow. He’s taught me that I have to stop pushing people away. I have to be devoted to the best and worst parts of my relationships. He’s taught me what love looks like and I’m thankful to call him my brother and my friend. He sees a kind of beauty in me that I don’t see in myself. He’s set the standard for any man in my life, and I’m thankful to have had him do so. His love is overpowering and I know not to settle for anything less than that.

Elijah was our little miracle baby, he barely made it out of that hospital alive. With IVs in his head and tubes all over the place, he came out fighting, and I’m confident that’s exactly how it was supposed to happen. Long before he knew it, he was the epitome of strength, and to me, he always will be.

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I’m ready.

Life.

This weekend was one that I’m sure I will remember for the rest of my life. I’ve gone through it not being able to walk, crying in front of friends who I’ve been my “strongest” for, and having to physically be taken care of by my family.

Without saying too much, the largest tumor decided to do its own thing, and the result was a Foley catheter. I seldom get embarrassed, or feel a sense of “anxiety” in public places. This weekend was different, though. I didn’t want to walk into Wal-Mart. I didn’t want to walk my dog. I didn’t want to walk to my car. I didn’t want to WALK.  Coincidentally, the day before this, I was praying for the ability to do just that — walk. I went Thursday and Friday without being able to stand up on my own, let alone move about, and here I was, too ashamed to use that gift. After a long night of profane prayers and silent weeping, I was relieved at the fact that I was well on my way to perfection. I know it sounds silly, but that’s all I see in my head.

Two years ago, my heart was broken down and battered. Not only by the man I loved, but by many of my family members’ selfishness, unexpected murders, unexpected death, and the absence of old friends through it all. It was soon after rebuilt.

Last year, my mind was broken down as I realized that my job, my health, and my insecurities had completely stripped me of any mental peace. I was consumed with dark thoughts and a scary lack of hope. I was depressed and lonely, and my mind was the root of it all. It was soon after rebuilt.

This year, my body is being broken down. I’m having to remove, repair, and rethink what I thought its purpose was. I’m being prepared, and as the days go by, I’m able to find the joy in that.

I don’t know what God is preparing me for, but in Hebrews 2:10, it reads

“For it was fitting that he, for whom and by whom all things exist, in bringing many sons to glory, should make the founder of their salvation PERFECT through suffering.”

That verse has penetrated my entire being in ways that never made sense until now. It reminded me that suffering isn’t always what I see it as. It’s not the absence of God, as much as it is a small dose of His powerful presence. I’m being molded into the woman I am meant to be. That woman serves others relentlessly, sees beauty in herself, and will be a mother of some child that has been abandoned and neglected. There is more to come, but I think that’s a good place to start.

Today I find out when the hysterectomy will be. I schedule the surgery, and although I’ve come in contact with MANY people who disagree with my decision, my health has become an enemy to my service to God, and whether or not you understand that, is outside of my power. Not being able to have children will never define me. Being a mother is more than natural birth. I’m ready. I’m ready and willing to be whoever it is that God has for me. I will walk in obedience and I’d love it if you walked alongside me. Remember to add yourself to my email list so I can encourage you PERSONALLY in your life, as you have done for me by taking the time to read my posts. Please feel free to ask ANY questions, remember, my life is open so we can grow together. I’m confident there are people praying on my brokenness, but I have faith that I’m protected.

Thank you.

I love you.

Today, I Cried.

Life.

This is not some rouse to get you to read my blog. Today, for the first time in a long time, I uncontrollably cried.

Here’s how it started:

Last night, around 10pm, I was overwhelmed with insecurity. I felt like I was an embarrassment to a pretty close friend, and I didn’t know how to handle it. I felt like I wasn’t good enough. I felt small and irrelevant. I ended up praying until I fell asleep, woke up around 4:30, prayed more, and got ready for work. Now, that insecurity manifested itself into something much more than I’d thought it was. All day at work today, I doubted my ability to serve my students, and work alongside my co-workers. I doubted my own growth and the growth process of my students because of me. Simply put, in less than 12 hours, I’d completely lost confidence in myself and my abilities. At this point, it had nothing to do with the initial hurt, but the fact that all of these underlying feelings even existed. I hated that I still had feelings like those toward myself, and felt like a hypocrite. I teach my babies to be bold, brash, and confident in who they are and who they’re becoming. In my head, I saw the opposite in myself. It was during my 6th hour class, now if you’re a teacher, you know that sixth hour periods generally pack some punch:

  • They’re my largest (27)
  • Most of them are athletes (they don’t sit down)
  • They just left lunch (psychotic)
  • They have 1,573 stories (from lunch)

Now, don’t get it twisted, I LOVE them, they bring me LIFE, but they equally wear me out. I was fighting for them to focus, and I caught myself getting super frustrated. I’d never struggled before, yes, taken a different approach, but not STRUGGLED. I sat in a corner behind my desk and prayed. At this point they were all doing their Bellringer assignment, so most of them didn’t notice. I just asked God to give me some sort of peace and strength. I asked Him to help me serve my kids. I got up, and continued the lesson.

Here’s how it ended:

Terek Warren, a former Senior of mine- and of course one of my babies- came knocking at the door and when my baby opened it enough to see him, I ran out. LOL. I gave him the biggest hug (because I hadn’t seen him since he left for college) and told him I loved him. He proceeded to say, “Ms. Solomon, I’m fareal teachin my roommates how to write essays! Like my grades are so good! Thank you…” I started weeping. Y’all, he was so confused and legit had no idea what to do with me. I explained to him what my night was like, what my day had been like, and the current frustrations in class. He told me he loved me and to “push through, they’ll see.” I continued to cry LOL. I went back in class and the kids said you miss him that much? I responded with, “I needed him more than he knew.” I had a long talk with my class about how my love for them will never waiver. No matter how angry I get. No matter how lazy they get. No matter how lonely I feel at school. I will never compromise my love. It was so pathetic, authentic, and sweet.

So, I cried today, and I think I needed to in order to be reminded that I need to be broken  more than I’d ever admit. My students NEEDED to see me broken. They needed to see me struggle. They needed to see ME. I try my hardest to be authentically Ms. Solomon, but there’s something magically real about a teardrop. Dear educators, let them see you be you! I understand professionalism. I understand boundaries. I understand authority, but my students have a love for me now, that I didn’t think could be established in 55mins.  I’m thankful for them.

Thank you for reading.

I love you.

The Year of Growth.

Life.

I’ll go ahead and get right to it. I haven’t posted in about a year, and the last time I did, it was a short poem about an exhaustive break-up. I made the conscious decision never to go back to that place. I decided that I would start fresh emotionally, mentally, spiritually, and bloggally. (I know that’s not a word) LOL.

Last year was, in short, one of the most devastating and exhilarating ones I’ve ever had. I felt pain that I didn’t know existed and experienced freedom I didn’t know was inside of me. I could meticulously break it down, and tell you my lowest and highest points, but this isn’t my diary, and I think that until told otherwise, I will be conscious about keeping certain things between myself and God.

With that, I wasn’t sure what the topic of this blog would be, but as I tried to narrow it down to 3-4 ideas, I found that GROWTH was a recurring theme. I’ve been talking about growth all year, and today I went ahead and looked up the formal definition:

“the process of increasing in physical size.”

I was pissed. I mean I knew that growing had something to do with size, but I think the idea of growth has been much more than “increasing in physical size” in my personal life. I decided to define it for myself, because choosing another word would be too easy.

“the process of refining; flourishing.”

The question is, how do we do that? As people, how do we intentionally put ourselves in a position to become more refined and full with beauty? How do we make the necessary changes in our lives in order to become who we are intended to be? I think we’re supposed to just do it. I often hear people say, “easier said than done,” when I advise them to do things they may not want to do, but I don’t think that’s true anymore. The action isn’t always the hard part, it’s the emotional effect of those actions that are hard to handle. DO IT. Break off the relationships that bring all glory to anyone but God. Do away with the self-hate that you’ve justified for as long as you’ve known you didn’t love yourself fully. Remove yourself from people. Remove yourself from things. Put yourself in a position to hurt a little, that lack of comfort may be the push you need. There is nothing wrong with breaking down in order to rebuild.

Growth is a constant and it is imperative that we never think we’ve finished. There is always room for progress, and my past relationships taught me that I am often tempted to stop my growing process for the sake of someone else’s. For years I thought that was love. For years I thought that’s what true sacrifice was supposed to look and feel like. I thought that in order for me to completely and fully serve the people around me- I had to accept them destroying my personal peace. Lies. I listened to a podcast a few weeks ago, and the author stated,

“Fear and anxieties create this world where the only thing that exists is myself and the threat to the thing that I love..”

I wasn’t sure how that related to my life until now. There was an underlying fear that I may not have been loving intensely enough, and that fear convinced me that the only thing that existed was Shakiyla, and whatever was hurting the people I cared for. In that state of being- I lived a life of combat. Every day my sole purpose was to defeat the threat, in hopes that I’d come out alive. It was exhausting. It was impossible. I had a God-complex. I wanted to be the savior of all people I held dear, and in that pursuit, I died.

I say all of this to say, love is a call for sacrifice, forgiveness, and an unconditional presence in the lives of broken people (us). At some point, though, we have to stop and reflect on whether or not we are actually loving and being loved. We have to be sure that we aren’t sacrificing and being broken down for the sake of loyalty to someone/something that isn’t grounded in true love. It’s a complex thing; love. I think that the more we slow down in an attempt to understand it, the better we’ll get at expressing it.

I’m growing. I have forgiven people who ruined all that I thought made me who I am, and I have grown to love the woman I’ve become. I am walking in obedience. I am protected. I am growing.

Feel free to comment, and share.

I love you.

An Epiphany…

Life.


I don’t have very many people who stick around. I don’t mean people who know OF me, I mean people who know my heart and all of its hurt. People who know my mind and why it works the way it does. People who help me be a better me for the sake of my students and service to my community. I’m thankful for those people. They’re the ones who read what I’ve written because they know how insecure I am about my art & will give honest feedback. They’re the ones who make me feel like a friend when I’m troubled, not a burden. Those people are treasures, and I couldn’t imagine life without them. If you’ve ever tried getting close to me, you know that I preface the relationship with “I’m too much to handle” and I don’t say that because I’m dramatic, I say it because I’m broken. I get irrationally angry. I take many things personally. I isolate myself. I struggle with forgiveness. I’m very self-aware, but not enough sometimes. I’m sensitive AND stone cold. I’m humble in love but prideful in progression. I’m a walking oxymoron, so if I’ve submitted my heart’s truth to you it’s because I trust that God has placed you in my life. It takes so much for me to admit that I NEED companionship, and God is continuing to humble me. Today I had a friend tell me that I do too much sometimes and it’s pushing him away, but 3yrs ago I wasn’t doing ANYTHING. I didn’t know what it meant to express myself, let alone with confidence. I was locked up and full of emotion and anger. I was a ticking time bomb, so being able to honestly share my feelings and boldly ask for reciprocity is a milestone for me as a woman. I guess I’ve yet to find a perfect balance, but I’m not sure it exists. I’ve finally stopped blaming my circumstances for my lacking as a person, and that means that I’m left with no excuse. My desire is growth and freedom in self-love. I’m to the point where I can honestly say I don’t want to pursue that alone. I know that there will be people who walk out of my life, but I guess all I’m trying to say is that I’m thankful for the ones who see me, inspite my imperfections, as worth the fight. 
*Photo by Debra Cartwright*