I swear it’s gotta go…
The iron balls attached to my spiritual legs that make it hard for me to run.
To have faith.
2018 was my year of weight.
A heaviness that came from being pregnant/paranoid/mad/broke/impassioned/imperfect/in over my head.
A heaviness that came from worrying about things that God already gave me victory over.
And a hesitation to change my own heart.
The need for a deep tissue massage for my neck and a deep conditioning for my hair.
Weight brought on by an obsession with relevancy…if what I do measures up to exemplars in my field…
Just like the excess, the insecurities must go.
So must stacks on stacks of sticky notes and lists and paper…so much paper…and stuff…and unfinished business…
*Be sure and return phone calls and respond to voicemails/ emails because, when avoided, it all just adds to the weight.
The guilt’s gotta go.
And the balletic moodswings that come with wifeing/mothering/mentoring/ bending over sinks, bathtubs, toy piles, boiling pots, and bending-over-backwards.
All the literal and symbolic weight that came with 2018 must get gone,
and give way to a new year that’s so much about shedding the harrowing,
And becoming lighter.
Almost floating freely.
Clinnesha is a writer, wife, mom, meta-artist, and social entrepreneur who feels most accountable to southern, black citizen-artists, elders, children, and families. Her work is at the intersection of arts, culture, innovation, and community.