I want to take a moment. To be grateful for the new space that I call home. Out loud.

My first apartment was a space that I basically threw myself into. I wasn’t sure of where I was going. I just knew I had to move.

I was still living with Nana at the time. I had a s/o then, who I’d tasked with finding me a space. Really didn’t work. I found that place, on tour with two elder Black women. They said, girl you better get this one. I listened. That space was HUGE. I loved it at first, but knew I wouldn’t stay. I incubated much love energy out of that space with sisters and others. I incubated love energy between myself and my mommy because of that space. It was way too much space for just me. For the first couple of years, it even echoed.

The things I experienced in that space were incredible, to say the least. Extreme love. Extreme heartache. But I knew it wasn’t the space for me to remain, almost the moment I moved in, albeit grateful. While there, I returned to creativity. While there, I returned to regular therapy. While there, I incubated next steps for my personal brand… all because I knew… I’VE GOT TO MOVE!

Keepin it a buck… parking was horrendous, it was highly unsafe, my apartment was broken into once and attempted multiple times. Maintenance was dubious at best, as we typically didn’t even have a super. Management changed at least 4 times. Folks got robbed in the building. Folks always left their trash in the hallway. Folks always spit and other things in the halls and stairs. A woman who hoarded and kept stray cats lived on the 4th floor and fed the cats in the neighborhood, so many of us were treated to fleas. It was my turn, last summer.

I was constantly blocked in, in the parking lot, as the city lot was almost never monitored. I’ve had my car towed from that lot since building management did not make it clear that that was a city lot, when I first got my car. No overnight parking nearby so guests, lovers or whomever were often treated to whopping tickets. I won’t even detail the noise.  Very odd, seemingly predatory financial practices. To top it all off…… roaches the size of your forehead. You read that right. If you ever came to visit me and missed them, you were blessed. Frankly, I was afraid to let anyone come visit because of them. And don’t call them waterbugs. They’re not waterbugs, Black folks. They’re roaches. Palmetto bugs. Roaches.

If I was to say that one thing marked the way in which I was regarded with association to that space, with folks I allowed into that space with me, though, it would be, “judgment.” And not all, but most. I had such a big space, to let others in and enjoy it with me, despite its flaws. Ironically, most of those I allowed in, essentially allowing them into my person, at some point, their id boiled over to a point, where they lashed out in judgment of me, although I did not judge them or hold them in contempt for whatever space of themselves they allowed me into. It took a recent incident… the death of a bond that I’d cherished in one way or another for years, for me to realize that common thread. The last person I’d let into that space, intimately, ultimately judged me for it… in ways I would have never imagined.

I’m still reflecting on this and many things learned through this season of transition for me. I’m sure more thoughts will be teased out in time.

I often see folks write about the reasons why people judge you. And the ego that wants to fight them at every turn. I will admit though, that I don’t quite know what it is that makes folks do that. What that need is to make yourself feel like others are beneath you.

Anywho…….. Something said… GO. So against whatever odds, I pushed it through.

Moving to where you want to be ON PURPOSE.

And realizing the accountability for the places to which you’ve pushed yourself.

And giving thanks for those past places and past moments for what they showed you about yourself, or for what they showed you in any way that begged your attention.

I’m sure we can all attest to the times, places and situations that we throw ourselves into. Not that we flow into, but into which we thrust ourselves.

The ego wants to tell us to learn how to control what we throw ourselves into… How it will look. How it will feel. And maybe we should. Or maybe we should move when spirit says to move, anyhow. Either way, be assured, that you will learn what it is you need to learn.

This new home for me, is far enough yet close enough. It is quiet and bright. It is tiny and purposeful. It is where I wanted to be. It is only for me.

I don’t know what’s next… but I know it will be beautiful.

Cheers to my season of GO! And yours…