Girl, We Can See You.

Hey y’all (read this in a “my bad I’ve been gone too long” tone).  I’ve been writing here and there, just not actually here.  I had to read one of my old blog posts, where I dragged myself to remember why I started. Thank you to those who checked on me and asked me where the posts have been. I was too ashamed to say that I didn’t think I wanted to do them anymore because I felt like I ran out of things to say.  I didn’t want to be visible. Invisibility has sort of been my thing since I was growing up, so it was like a second nature response for me to fall back. But I’m here now, so let’s not waste any more time.

Invisible. It’s been such a comfortable place for me.  Don’t look at me, don’t hear me, don’t see me. I’m not here. I don’t exist.  That mentality started a long time ago for me.  I would say when my family and I moved to Maryland from Colorado in 1996.  I knew I was different growing up, but it was MAGNIFIED when we moved.  I wasn’t up on the latest styles or music because we didn’t listen to secular music and all we wore were dresses and skirts.  Moving to this fast paced area was such a cultural shock! And I had a hard time keeping up.  I wanted to make friends when we first got here, but their level of socializing, conversations and life were just not what I was used to.  And I stood out like a sore thumb because of my appearance and people never went a day without reminding me that I was the cHUrCh gIrL.  I got tired of explaining why I had to wear dresses everyday because I truly didn’t understand myself.  My explanation was always, “because it’s part of my religion.” This followed me into high school. Surprise, surprise.  I just wanted to be that normal girl who got to wear pants or shorts, or at least something that didn’t come passed my ankles.  I wanted to be able to join in the conversations with confidence. I just wanted to fit in.  

So my way of coping with being different was to either blend in (as much as I could with the LONG JEAN SKIRT) or just try to be as quiet as possible.  Keep my head down, don’t give eye contact, don’t talk in class, just basically become one with whatever environment I was in at the moment. I would laugh along with the jokes even though I didn’t think they were funny and they were SO tired.  I pretty much donned the Cloak of Invisibility most of my life and not just in school (that’s another topic for another day). Now don’t get me wrong, I did have friends, but even in that I was lonely.  I didn’t fit in with my friend group either. I wasn’t partying, I wasn’t allowed to date, I didn’t really go out like that.  I was never the one that wanted a lot of friends, just that one good girlfriend that could identify with me.  One that knew my pain of these LONG. JEAN. SKIRTS.  And looking back, I had a few really good friends at one time, but there was still a disconnect because I felt like my life was so different and they wouldn’t understand. 

Now, fast forward to modern day, pants and makeup wearing Eshia. Why is she still acting like she’s wearing those LONG. JEAN. SKIRTS? Hiding, shrinking and trying to blend in with her environment so no one can see her. It’s the regression for me. And she’s uncomfortable being this way because she already made a vow to herself and to others…OUT LOUD! She’s already got the ball rolling and can’t go back to how she was. She knows this. I know this.

So, I had to snap myself out of it.  People see me now.  They know I have a voice and they actually  want to hear what I have to say, or read but you catch my drift.  I’m too old for the cloak.  As a matter of fact, it doesn’t even fit anymore *whispers* it’s the quarantine weight.  I was never made to fit in, blend in or be invisible. And most importantly, I’ve done myself such a disservice hiding who I am.  I understand that more than just the clothes I wore caused me to feel that way, but I’ve let go and am yet letting go of that way of thinking. I’m still getting use to the power that my voice carries, and not just when I sing.  The way I feel when I’m expressing myself and letting you all into parts of my life is scary, but I can’t afford to quit now.  I made a promise to myself that I wouldn’t let fear of judgment or people’s perceptions cause me to dim my light and live in a way that isn’t authentic to who I really am.  This party has been one for the books! And I’m glad to be apart of it.  I know, I know. I was late. It took a little longer to get ready now that my outfit is no longer invisible. How did I do?