Anyone who really knows me knows that I play things close to the vest. This is especially true of anything to do with my health because things can change very quickly for the worse. Historically that has been the case for me. This time last year I had just gotten out of the hospital after an asthma exacerbation.
This year I was in due to both COVID and an asthma exacerbation and I was scared shitless. After 2 1/2+ years of being extra vigilant, being fully vaccinated and boosted, wearing N95 masks everywhere, including two trips to L.A. for work, I was exposed on a work trip to Miami. I was in the hospital within 3 days of testing positive. I left my quarantine bubble to go to the hospital, not knowing if I would ever come back. It was the most sobering and terrifying experience I’ve ever had, and that’s saying a lot.
I was in hospital for four days, released back home still COVID positive to quarantine, and continue treatment. All with the Damocles Sword hanging over my head that I may develop COVID pneumonia, and to come back if I did. Statistically, based on my medical history, I shouldn’t have survived. But I did.
I’m dealing with Long-haul COVID and residual asthma issues, but I’m here. Oh, and something no one tells you about COVID until you talk to others who’ve had severe symptoms…the hallucinations… Yea, let that one sink in for a minute. As always, I’m grateful for the team at Methodist West for taking great care of me.
This selfie below was taken the day before I tested positive for COVID, but two days after I experienced anaphylactic shock at a team dinner. Nothing like being escorted out of a 5 star restaurant by EMS and security, in front of 100 of your coworkers to make you super popular at work the next morning.
There’s no safety in our homes, ask Botham Jean and Breonna Taylor
No safety in our cars, ask Philando Castille
No safety at the corner store; We’re followed and watched, criminalized based on the hue of our skin
No safety in well-lit places
No safety in broad daylight; ask George Floyd and Ahmaud Arbery
No safety when peacefully protesting
No safety when the cameras are recording; they laugh and yell and taunt
Never any safety in the dark
No safety can even be found within our own skin
When we attempt to create safe spaces we lull ourselves into a false sense of security as those spaces are invaded, violated and stolen right before our eyes
Even in my meditation where there is only me… there is no safety to be found, no matter the attempt at mindfulness.
It’s World Suicide Prevention Day and for the first time ever I’m going to be open and share my truth. When I was 13, I attempted suicide by ingesting handfuls of pills, any and everything from my medicine cabinet. I was lonely, unhappy and felt unloved. I was nearly successful. I remember being able to hear but not see very well as darkness closed in. I fell off of the top bunk of the bunk bed I shared with my sister and hit my back on the corner of the stereo. The jolt of pain brought me out of my haze and I slept it off.
I remember the fear in my sister’s eyes and my already fragile heart broke even further. Over 25 years later I still see that look and feel horrible guilt over it. Suicidal thoughts accompanied a mental breakdown in 2013 while I was out of town for school (I was working 50 hrs a week and in a full-time Ph.D program at the time) and I immediately called my home crying and begging for help. When I got home from Chicago I made a beeline to my PCP and she put me on medication and sent me find a therapist.
I’ve dealt with anxiety and depression most of my life and am finally in a better place mentally and emotionally. I sought help, channeled my anxiety and fear into creative pursuits and things I found productive. I am now allowing myself the grace that I afford to everyone else and practicing self care.
If you need help, if you have thoughts of just wanting the pain to stop, there is a whole tribe of people who will embarace you and stand in the gap for you. My employer Ginger @carebyginger (soon to be Headspace Health) has some great resources that get you on the path to wholeness and wellness. https://www.ginger.com/activities/strategies-for-coping-with-depression
I’m tired. Full stop. There’s no ‘but’, ‘however’ or ‘although’ that follows that statement.
I’m tired. The kind of emotional and mental exhaustion that manifests itself physically.
I, like so many Black people, are solely existing and going through life in a fog of anger, despair, and conscious, tempered rage that we have no choice but to push/work through. I’m tired of re-sharing my racial trauma for the white masses to “learn from”.
Why? Why is it my/our responsibility? Why do I have to periodically open up a long festering wound just to show you that it exist? Why do I have to show that which is raw and oozing, forever weeping? As if you seeing the damage inflicted in real time wasn’t proof enough.
Yes, you saw every lash of the racism whip every time you said nothing when a comment was made about my hair/education/experience/tone of voice, etc. You saw the thin veneer of safety ripped away when you knew that cronyism and nepotism were in full working order and you did/said NOTHING. You said nothing because you 100% benefited, either directly or indirectly, from structural racism.
I’ve had multiple instances in the past couple of weeks where someone (in this case WASP / White Anglo Saxon Protestant female manager bolstered by another authoritative WASP woman) automatically assumed I was lying and tried to “catch” me by offering up what they saw as “proof”. I had to write detailed explanations of the circumstances, justify myself and provided my own absolutely irrefutable proof that I was indeed being ethical and truthful from the very beginning. (I.e. I shut this mess down quickly with perfect tact, professionalism and screen grabs.) This was followed by the most insulting five words I’ve heard in recent memory, “Thank you for your honesty.”
Thank you for your honesty?! That insinuates that you assume that everything I say and/or do is fabricated until you feel you have sufficient proof that I’m telling the truth. This coming from the same non-POC people who, when the tables are turned, and I KNOW that non-POC has glaringly lied through their perfectly veneered teeth, tell me to “assume positive intent” or that I “misunderstood” what they said/did/asked/instructed/demanded. I am positive that it was intended to make me out a thief of time, a fabricator of salacious falsehoods and unethical to boot. Nothing there to misunderstand.
To compound all of this and add insult to injury, the earlier exchange is later followed by a backhanded compliment of a recorded WebEx presentation I did 3-4 weeks ago saying, “… it was very professional and easy to follow. I was very impressed with your presentation skills…”. There again are the micro aggressions.
It is automatically ASSumed that we are lying. It is automatically ASSumed that, despite our experience and education, we don’t have the same or better skill set than our white counterparts. And when we prove we ARE telling the truth and we DO have the knowledge and expertise, they are “impressed” with our professionalism and presentation skills. You ASSume because of my milk chocolate hued skin, my Afrocentric name and my love of head wraps that I couldn’t possibly be poised and polished and able to lead, teach, and inform the masses, let alone the white masses. I have to prove to you beyond what is expected of my white counterparts that I AM and that I CAN.
This is what it is to be black in Corporate America. This is what it is to be black in America, period.
2015 brought major changes for me as I worked to discover my voice as a designer and create my brand. I put out the first two collections of my designing career, Eclipse & Safari, which was a very scary experience. It wasn’t frightening in the sense that I was worried about them being commercially successful or not; though profitability is always a part of it. I was more so concerned about staying true to my vision for each line and not bowing to the pressure of trendiness; I concerned about designing and crafting a product that was unique and unlike anything else; I was concerned about making high quality pieces that when I stepped back would give me contentment and personal fulfillment, as each and every piece I make has a little bit of my heart and soul in it.
I found that my fears were valid but misplaced. I think every designer, every entrepreneur, that has a passion for their art, faces these same pressures. There’s the frustration of submitting your work, your unique vision to the masses and getting some really positive feedback but that feedback doesn’t equate to sales. Then there’s the times when there’s no feedback at all, neither positive nor negative and you’re left staring at Instagram waiting for the likes to come in, wondering what you’ve done wrong. You begin to question whether or not you’re putting out a good product and if you should chuck it all in the waste bin and focus on your day job. You’re bleary-eyed, depressed and despondent only wanting to be liked on social media and seriously thinking about acquiescing to social media influences, jump on the trend train and make the same mass produced pieces as the big box stores. (No shade implied or intended)
This was me for part of 2015. I had some commercial success. I had my designs featured in a local small boutique in Houston, I had a few discussions with some stylist out of New York but I didn’t see the type of success I really wanted. I got depressed for a few months, I stopped designing, I stopped even wearing my own work. I was in a place of pity and self-loathing. But lucky for me that I have an AWESOME support system of family and incredibly close friends who are prayer warriors and realist who brought me out of my funk with real talk and encouraging words.
I realized I hadn’t failed as a designer, I hadn’t failed as a business owner, I hadn’t failed at anything simply because I made the effort and put myself out there. I had put my heart and soul into my work and put it out for the world to judge; I remembered 2 Timothy 1:7, “God did not give us spirit of timidity but one of power, of love and of self-discipline”. Once I remembered who I was and to whom I belonged, new opportunities came my way. My pieces can now be found not only on my website, T. Nicole Designs but also on BeLuxLife!
So while 2015 was a year of trial and error, learning and faltering, it was a year that I’m grateful for. I learned quite a bit about solidifying my vision and finding my voice as a designer. I learned to be patient with myself, as the kind of success I’m looking for doesn’t come overnight. It is earned through prayer, faithfulness, diligence and fortitude.
It’s perfectly ok to go against the grain because being different is what sets me apart. So I’ll continue to push forward, creating jewelry and accessories that are inspired and unique. Because while everyone else is singing the harmony I’ll be the one belting out a melody all my own. Here’s to a brand new year filled with unforgettable experiences and opportunities for personal and professional growth.
What do you do when you come to the realization that you have arrived at a place in your career when you have no desire to be in management? We’re told via succession planning and the seen potential in us by others, that we are management material. Management is always conveyed as the ultimate goal of any role, to be in charge of and over others. But the looks of disbelief that come when you tell your supervisor/manager that have no passion or desire to move into management are staggering. They look at you in disbelief, dumbfounded at your words, and as if you have taken temporary leave of your senses; like you are lazy and lacking in ambition, when that couldn’t be further from the truth. Read the rest of this entry »
Hey there my Lovelies! As another work week draws to a close I breathe a sigh of relief and of disappointment. This week has held pain and upset that has shaken me and nearly broken my will. Yet here I am, fingers flying across my ergonomic keyboard still here.
So I went to one of my routine 3 month follow-ups with my Rheumatologist on this past Tuesday and since she saw me last I had been hospitalized due to my chronic asthma and a subsequent lung infection. True the infection took more than a month to get over and I felt like something I had pulled off the bottom of my shoe but I was still standing. Upon hearing this, she promptly and unceremoniously said that she couldn’t treat me anymore; that her medicine/treatment had nearly killed me twice (I think she was being a bit overly dramatic but then again… it isn’t like she was lying I was REALLY sick) and that I would have to wait until medicine could catch up with as complex of a case as I am. Read the rest of this entry »
Sometimes I think we get so wrapped up in what the world thinks about who and what we are and in never stopping moving, that we don’t take the time to slow down and really have an introspective look at who we know us to be. Like out of one of those dramatic thrillers were the main character comes home after evading arrest and assassins to find the villain sitting in the dark their favorite chair. He tells him to come and have a sit, motioning with his gun to an adjacent chair and our protagonist wearily slinks over and cautiously sits. The villain goes into this deep monologue and in it dark truths are revealed that causes him to doubt everything that has happened, everything he thinks and the motives of those around him. It’s time to have that conversation with yourself. It is past time for you to stop running from all of those things that you have been avoiding and hiding from and face the parts of you that scare and frighten you. You never know… you may end up the wiser for it.
It is a day to marvel at, as everyday is. Sunday always seems to recharge my spirit and gives me perspective over the previous week. Y’all know that I have been going through, that my health hasn’t been the best, that my mobility and independence has been markedly decreased. Nonetheless I am grateful for His grace which has given me a reasonable portion of health and the strength to endure.
Ok so on to the randomness that is me! Y’all know I am quite random and silly, odd and fanciful. I find entertainment and am tickled pink by the most mundane and weird things. I love cartoons, at least those with adult humor that is gratefully lost on children. Some of my favorite ones are those ones from my youth. Looney Tunes, Tom and Jerry, X-Men, Attack of the Killer Tomatoes ( a throwback huh? LOL). But one that holds a special place in my heart and memory is Ren and Stimpy! It was raunchy and off-colored, disturbing and utterly stupid but made me laugh every time! So, this is my theme song and it will keep me smiling all day. Find whatever brings you joy today and those moments of happiness as they are fleeting.
T. Nicole's Graham Cracker Crumbs 
The Fallacy and Fairytale of Security in America
No where is safe when you look like me
There’s no safety in our homes, ask Botham Jean and Breonna Taylor
No safety in our cars, ask Philando Castille
No safety at the corner store; We’re followed and watched, criminalized based on the hue of our skin
No safety in well-lit places
No safety in broad daylight; ask George Floyd and Ahmaud Arbery
No safety when peacefully protesting
No safety when the cameras are recording; they laugh and yell and taunt
Never any safety in the dark
No safety can even be found within our own skin
When we attempt to create safe spaces we lull ourselves into a false sense of security as those spaces are invaded, violated and stolen right before our eyes
Even in my meditation where there is only me… there is no safety to be found, no matter the attempt at mindfulness.
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Posted by grahamcrackercrumbs09 on November 19, 2021 in Grinds My Gears, Social Commentary
Tags: Black Lives, Black Lives Matter, Life, racism, Random Thoughts, Reflections, Social, Social Commentary, Social Justice