Social media wears me out. The current political climate drains me. I see more hate than joy. Even though I told myself that this year would be the year of Black Boy Joy, I mentally and emotionally checked myself out. The intent was fierce, but the follow-through was lackluster. I turned 30 back in January, and I spent it eating waffles and drinking a whole bottle of Stella Rosa Black. Can’t say that I found much joy in that. Well, the wine was lit, so that was fine.
As this year trudges along, my quest for joy minimizes. It’s like I lost every bit of passion I had within me compared to last year. I was visible last year, but this year, I’ve closed myself off.
The world is too thick right now. Consumption of media is easier than ever, and we devour it without a break to digest. From a creative standpoint, the expectation to create is great. You’re expected to produce as much content as possible for hungry consumers to binge on. That doesn’t leave time for breaks or time to put your best effort forward. Again, not joyful.
Writer’s block, depression, and insomnia all got me lost in the sauce of life. Also, my weight’s been fluctuating due to an unhealthy diet and days where I don’t eat much or do much. Suffice it to say, my sexual expression is off, and it’s important to feel sexy. Regardless, sun up to sun down, with each day passing, there’s no joy.
So, I’m on my Maxine Waters game and I’m rightfully reclaiming what’s mine. While the Congresswoman and the internet reclaim their time, I’m going to reclaim my joy.
I’m over the mess and the stress – I’m reclaiming my joy.
The political climate has got me all the way fucked up – I’m reclaiming my joy.
I’m not as sexually expressive as I know I can be – I’m reclaiming my joy.
My writing may not be strong right now but – I’m reclaiming my joy.
Bama Boi Blues may be quiet right now but – I’m reclaiming my joy.
Whatever happened to that carefree creative Black man who was proud to be transparent and open up necessary dialogues? I want him back. He was full of joy and excitement. Here’s the kicker – I say that I’m reclaiming my joy, but I don’t even know what it looks like. What does reclaiming joy look like?
I imagine it’s authentic expression. It’s messy, but it’s effortless. I figure that reclaiming joy isn’t perfect because you have to take joy back from a place you didn’t want it to go. Auntie Maxine approves, I’m sure.