The Other Side

On being on the other side of the grass…

The side that doesn’t seem so green

 

Things may seem like they aren’t going in your favour right now. Your plans are on paper, while others’ skyscrapers are out there..for all to see.

So you’re not married yet? Sure that sucks…but you will find someone, one day, who you’ll want to spend the rest of your life with…and you will be grateful for not rushing it because of the pressure. The loneliness? It will pass. It will…

Don’t beat yourself up about it. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be in love. Your time will come.

Continue reading “The Other Side”

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Rise – Six

You are a wonder.
You are a flame.
Designed to astound.
Created to amaze.
Your trail you will blaze,
For all of your days.
You, my dear, are a wonder.
And while some wonder and
Fail to understand,
You don’t stop.
Keep moving.
You keep going.
Do not stop.
When you reach the top,
Fly higher.
Born limitless.
Keep your free.
Hold your peace.
You are a wonder.
Breath-taking.
Life-changing.
Mind-blowing.
Then.
Now.
Eternity.
You blaze on.

Don’t Forget the Sun

A few months ago, I made a declaration that this year would be my year of “YAAAAAS”. A crazier way of saying “My Year of Yes”. Inspired by Shonda Rhimes and her awesomeness – along with a lot of reflective moments of where I’d like to see my life headed.

I’d dedicated this year to embracing opportunities that may scare me, making changes I wouldn’t usually make…basically, I’ve been all about trying new things.

In the past few months, I’ve watched my life go from one level to the other. It’s amazing how one conscious decision can change everything.

I’m not here to write about the amazing things that have happened, though. No. That’s for December. I might need several blog posts for that, though.

One thing I have learned – really learned – is that with every awesome thing that has come, a great amount of responsibility has followed. And it stayed.

Adulting (‘being an adult’) came at me so fast. I was not ready. Balancing it with schoolwork? Worse.

I’d reached a point of being with my laptop wherever I went – bed, class, cafes, even church.

The only thing on my mind was “I need to work.” I no longer saw anyone because… work.

And everyone understood. They saw the bags under my eyes. They were victims to my snappish moods and strange behaviour – nothing major, just arguing with myself and pulling out my hair. Not too bad…right?

Anyway.

It was my uni’s Spring Festival last week. I’d resolved to miss the entire thing. Because…work. Deadlines. “Adulting.”

Spring Fest would just have to wait until next year. Until last Friday came. Long story short, I went to Spring Fest. I made noise. Got hyper. Ate food. Almost got into fight with other adults over a rollercoaster. Found myself at colour fest, jumping around and dancing like I’d never danced before.

Meanwhile, my phone was buzzing with alerts. Deadlines upon deadlines. Appointments upon appointments. But I did not care.

That weekend, something in me snapped, and I realized that I needed to have some fun.

It reminded me of something in Shonda Rhimes’ book, Year of Yes.

“Yes is meant to feel like the sun.”

I hadn’t felt the sun in ages. I hadn’t felt the warmth…the laughter…the sun, man.

The best way to describe it. I may have been in the light, but I wasn’t paying attention. Immersed in awesome but all I was seeing was the burdens…the work…the pain.

So I decided to flip the switch and just…stand in the sun. Soak it all in. Embrace it with my whole being. Laugh. Jump around. Get all kinds of colours all over me.

For that moment, I chose to forget about the “have-to-dos”…and I chose to stand and breathe and feel the light and warmth. Not only feel it, but carry it along with me.

It is so easy to get caught up in the madness. It is painlessly easy to stay running on the hamster wheel. It’s easy to forget that this life we live…it needs warmth. It needs light. It needs fun too.

Your fun might not be surrounding yourself with dozens of people and powdered colours. But that’s okay. Your fun does not need to be my fun. What matters is that you are having fun.

What matters is that you are laughing. That you’re living. That your breaths are filled with relief, and love, and joy.

That the lines on your face are from smiling. That your body is filled with warmth.

You need it. You deserve it.

Sure, the work needs to be done. The grind needs to be lived. The world needs to be tackled with strength and focus.

But every now and then…it is good to throw everything aside, step outside and soak in the sun. Whatever your sun may be — as long as it brings you good. No harm here. Your wellbeing matters.

That’s all I’d like to drop today.

I have a couple of things to do. But first… the sun.

Have a great weekend everyone**

Don’t forget the sun…

 

Rise: A collection

This collection was written in a day but it took a couple of weeks for me to realize what I wanted to do with it. As short as it is, believe me when I say I poured a lot into this collection.

This is for the heart. All hearts. You will find something in here for you. This is for you. Who is “You”? The person reading it. Where you read “I”…read it as if it were you.

This is about victory. This is about healing. This about being the amazing person you were created to be. This is about identity. This is about standing proud. This is about love.

It is about the “after”. After the falls. After the tears. The light that has come.

I hope and pray that the light from this collection, comes into contact with your heart, and amazing things come from it 🙂

Share it. Send a message to me if you would like to discuss it.

You can find me on

Twitter: @FayMeIs

Facebook: Chipo Faith-Grace Biti

Bless you ❤

Click This Link To Download Rise

 

 

Journey out of the Uncomfortable: Speaking Up

I’m not a fan of confrontation. Conflict, confrontation, disagreements…the very thought of such gives me a tummy ache.

So I’d keep quiet and often keep my views and opinions to myself in order to avoid landing myself in trouble – on social media and in real life. I’d just stay in my own space and let the talkers do the talking.

Sure, I’d get riled up when someone would say or post something awful. Or I’d want to talk about something that would probably end up in an intense discussion. But I’d always put off talking about those things or responding. The thought of someone talking back, made me anxious.

But after several years of doing this, I realized that my silence wasn’t helping anything. If anything, it made things worse for me. How would I expect anything to change if I wasn’t willing to contribute to it? How would people know if something is wrong if I wasn’t telling them? It’s unfair to expect people to just ‘know’ when something is wrong. It makes life easier if you just say, “Hey, help. I’m not okay.”

I have to tell myself that. Every day. Because I tend to end up having horrible breakdowns as a result of bottling things up and trying to be a hero. I’ve long let go of trying to be a hero. Trying to be ‘strong’ on my own. I can’t do it. I’ve learned to embrace the beautiful people in my life, and actually speak up and let them know when I need help.

I’ve learned to speak up. Use my voice. It’s there for a reason. And that reason is not ‘to keep it hidden’.

I was watching Grey’s Anatomy a few weeks ago and one part of the show has remained on my mind since then. One of the doctors, a lady, had been shut down by a lot of the more..senior doctors. This happened all the time. Until this moment in this episode: As she was tending to a patient, a male doctor stormed into the room and started yelling at her. He overrode her decision and started to berate her. Suddenly, she snapped and let her voice out. She put the doctor in his place, and continued with helping the patient. I replayed that part so many times. It resonated with me.

It reinforced a conversation I’d had with myself earlier. That it was time to speak up. To be unashamed. To be unapologetic. To be open to hearing other people’s views, but not quick to change my own ‘because someone said so’.

I realized that it would mean I’d be opening myself to criticism and debates. But that’s nothing to be afraid of. Actually, this fear thing has to go too. Because it’s hindered me from doing so much. And I don’t want to be someone who looks back on their ‘days of youth’ and sigh and say “If only I was braver…”

No way.

So I may trample on a few toes. Upset a few mentalities. Encounter trolls. But that’s okay.

As much as I’ll speak, I’ll also listen. And if a  place of agreement cannot be reached, keep it moving.

Life’s too short to remain in a box for the sake of other people’s comfort.

Way too short.

Journey Out of the Uncomfortable: This Space is Taken

 

So the other day, after a conversation with my mother, I decided that it was time to clear out my closet. It was a wreck. It started off well, I removed my school uniform from years ago, my old blazers, old clothes I’d forgotten about. As I sat on the floor to empty the bottom shelf of the cupboard, I discovered a pile of jeans I’d stored away for “When I Lose Weight”.

I’d kept those jeans for years. There were other clothes with the jeans. Clothes I wanted to wear “When I Am the Right Size”. The pile had grown with the years.

I looked at a couple of the jeans and realized, I’d probably fit them if I tried. But I didn’t try them on. I collected them and shoved them in a big, black bag.

I sat on the floor for a while and pondered on the times I’d done this in my life. Put things and people aside for “When I Am Right for Them”.

From books, to friends, to relationships, etc. I’d done that. If something came to an untimely end or so, I immediately thought that it was my fault and I set out to change myself until I could fit into their world.

The obvious result of my actions: Identity confusion. A worn out mind and body. A broken heart.

What’s the connection here? Between keeping old, small clothes and failed situations? Wrong intentions. A damaging mindset.

I’ve spent a considerable amount of my life carrying the label “Guilty” on my forehead. I took flak for wrongs I wasn’t a part of. I apologized for everything. I agreed to avoid conflict. I took the fall, so no one else would. For no reason, but to be accepted. To not be alone.

And I carried all this dead weight for years. This dead weight would come to life and become active in many of my human interactions over the years. Until I decided that it was time to drop the baggage and live in the freedom that I was given.

Part of that meant speaking up. Part of that meant taking a stand. Part of that meant saying no.

It surprised many and affected many of my relationships with people. And as the changes occurred, I reflected on how absent the person I was born to be had been.

Acceptance from people is nothing, if you’ve had to sacrifice your entire being for it. What’s there to accept? Nothing. Which is why people end up treating you like dirt, when you spend your life chasing after their approval.

Look at the world right now. Look at some of our leaders. Some people who got to where they are, by doing insane things for those in higher powers, just to be ousted by these same people.

It’s all over social media. The struggle for relevance. For acceptance. For shares, RT’s, and a heart here and there. A couple of emojis for control.

But there are enough pieces on social media behaviour and all; I was just adding my two cents.

What am I trying to say here?

Well, believe it or not: Throw out that old, and embrace the new.

That space in your heart you’ve kept for “the one who got away”. Clear it out, dear. Remove those damaging mementos, and allow yourself to let someone in who will take good care of that space.

The failures of the past? It’s time for them to vacate, friend. That space was meant for something better. Better does come. It really does.

Those jeans that will fit when you lose one more kg, stone or pound? Let it go. But don’t drop your hard work. What’s better than fitting  into old jeans? Walking into the store, finding a size smaller than what you used to be, and rocking the heck out of them.

 

ImageCred: http://freedomtentwo.weebly.com/

Journey Out of the Uncomfortable: Beauty

 

This new year started with a couple of changes. First one being, I cut my hair for the first time in 17 years. When I was six, I begged my mother to cut my hair – I was tired of the traumatic experience that was getting my hair washed. I hated the pain that came with getting my hair braided. So one Sunday, a friend of hers cut my hair. I remember looking in the mirror and smiling.

I went through something similar on the 2nd of January. I looked in the mirror, looked at my new very mini-fro and smiled. “Let the natural hair journey begin.”

My first week was near-disastrous. I was almost late for church on Sunday. I almost missed a meeting the next day. I’d underestimated the care that would be required. Sure I’d read the articles and all but “I never esperrerit”.

Continue reading “Journey Out of the Uncomfortable: Beauty”

Short Story: Oranges

Lara hated oranges. She hated the taste, she hated how sticky her fingers became after handling one, and she hated them because Lance loved them.

She shuddered as she thought of how her would buy a large bag of oranges from the Farmer’s market every Saturday. He’d come into the house whistling an
off-key rendition of Frank Sinatra’s Fly Me To the Moon, bag of oranges over his shoulder, and swing the bag at her head. If she dodged the bag, he’d beat her up.
The first time it happened, she cried for hours. Now, five years into their marriage, she’d come to expect the beatings. Sometimes Lance would sing
whilst he beat her. He used to find reasons to ‘discipline’ her but nowadays, he beat her for anything. Some days he’d just slap her around but there were a couple of occasions
where his violence landed her in hospital.
Like this time.
Lara was in the Intensive Care Unit, bandaged and propped up, staring at the fruit salad the nurse had brought her. It was littered with small, glistening orange slices.
The smell was revolting. It was almost as bad as the smell of alcohol that clung fiercely to her husband. Alcohol was his mistress. His lover.
It worked hand-in-hand with Lance’s other lover, football. She was in hospital because of a football game gone wrong. Lance often acted like she was the source of all his problems.
He’d been sloppy this time around. He’d thrown her through the glass door that led to their terrace. The neighbours’ dinner party was in full swing.
They saw everything. Her husband was in the county jail at that very moment. No one was willing to bail him out.
Lara thought of the years of madness that were her life. After he’d finish beating her up, he’d go to the kitchen and eat a couple of oranges. When he was done, he’d throw the peels at her.
Lara often wondered how she’d managed to marry such a brute. Had he always been like that? Probably.
She hated a lot of things because of her husband. Oranges. Frank Sinatra. Her life.
She sighed, as she thought of what would happen when she left the hospital. Her family was pushing her to file for divorce. Support from her neighbours was pouring in.
The police seemed to be on her side.
The thought of everything was giving her a migraine. She pressed the call button and waited. The nurse was there in a second.
“Are you alright, darling?” she asked. Lara shook her head slowly.
“Could you please remove this fruit salad? The oranges are killing me.”
That’s how she’d handle her life, Lara resolved. One problem at a time.

I Woke Up Hating You

For anyone who’s going through the journey of letting go, forgiving, and allowing themselves to heal.

**Disclaimer as always: I am fine. This is not about me. No need to be concerned :)**

I woke up hating you.
Rage in my mind,
Boiling in my blood.
That mental image of your face had me waking up hating you.

Remembering the things you’d do,
To make me believe you cared too.
Hammering away at the walls in.my heart,
Just to wreak havoc and tear me apart,
I woke up hating you.

As I recalled your gall,
Your boldness to call me out on
Not trusting you. Not giving you a chance.
Just a ploy for you to take over this dance.
As I ball my hands…into fists..
Awake…And hating you.

My breath out of rhythm,
Madness in my system,
I’ve realized this can’t be life.
I keep on like this I’ll reduce my time
Spent alive..
Spent hating you..
This won’t do.

So for forgiveness I prayed,
And the ability to love is begged for.
Day in, day out,
I battle the urge to even the score.
To justifiably end my hate for you.

But this won’t work,
I can’t let this be.
Because the only one hurting,
Harmed and affected..
Is me.

So I’ll bite my tongue,
And endure the pain,
As I learn to live again,
Love again,
Return to sane.

As I reconcile with peace,
And make friends with harmony.
Moving past the done wrongs,
Erasing the angry songs.
I move on…

To moments of laughter.
To genuine joy.
To good memories,true.
As I learn to go to bed..
And wake up clear…
As I wake up..calm.
As I wake up…happy.

As time moves,
And the seasons too,
I sigh, relieved,
That I no longer…
Wake up hating
You.