Where In The World Is Afiya J.?

“Where are you, Afiya?” My therapist asks me as I coyly pick at a scab on my arm. I look out of the window next to me, as though the answer is going to be across the street. It wasn’t. I faced my attention back to our zoom call, where she sits patiently, waiting for my answer. I piece together some cock-and-bull answer, as I always do, instead of just saying, “Sis, I haven’t the slightest clue.” Because honestly, that’s the real answer.

My therapist has been asking me this question a lot lately, and I’ve been answering it, but not truthfully. It’s not intentional either - I’ve definitely learned to make myself small when it comes to expressing my needs and to keep my composure down to the last second. But that day, I was at 0:01 on the timer. What was going through my brain was: I’m emotionally exhausted. I’m feeling completely isolated and alone. I miss my friends. I miss those in-person connections. I’m emotionally overwhelmed. I’m trying to heal, but it’s hard. But I know that if I start saying all this, I’ll start crying. Instead of going with one of my usual answers (I’m hanging in there, ha ha! 🥲) I say what’s on my mind anyway. As I start letting my guard down and allowing myself to be vulnerable, the tears start to fall. I feel like my body is opening itself up slowly until all of my insides are visible. All my hurt, pain, loneliness, regret, shame, all of it. “There you are,” my therapist says. Part of me feels a great deal of release; the other part of me feels like my “bad bitch” image has been tarnished (who am I kidding, though? I be crying at Pixar movies, c’mon). I wanted to hang up on her because why the hell am I crying in this session right now? Amy Winehouse deadass lied, Tears *Do Not* Dry On Their Own.

I struggle with being able to accept what I’m feeling after naming it. I’m real good at being like, “I’m hungry,” for example, and then straight up wallowing in hunger for hours. Same thing here. I knew I’d been feeling isolated and disconnected from my loved ones, but I had a hard time accepting it. This is about to be a little bit of a self drag, but part of undoing generational trauma means that I gotta stop a) telling myself that i’m okay when i’m not, and b) acknowledging that i’m not okay but not leaning on my loved ones for help/support when I need it. It’s hard, but I’m working on being assertive about my needs and less on the 🥺 👉🏾👈🏾 side of things. Start taking up space @Afiya.

Note to Self: I am where I am, and that’s okay.

You are where you are, and that’s okay.