Notes on Giving (Updated)

I was raised to be a Nice Girl. Yes please, no ma'am, hide your tears or better yet - don't cry at all. Excuse me, I’m sorry, I’m SORRY, I’M SORRY!!! Poised and well-behaved, straight A's - brother was known to call me the Golden Child. "You catch more flies with honey!" - my Nana says, and she's right. I kept doing what they told me until I walked straight into that blind trap called sin in my early teens, losing my purity to a boy who smeared my name across two schools. Then things got dark.

I didn't learn about being "nice" until much later in life, how it has so much to do with other people, perceptions more than realities. I was such a nice girl, giving away big chunks of heart and soul, throwing good over bad to cover up shame and getting tenfold back again. I gave and kept giving in, until one day I was covered in more flies than a sack of shit. And then I did implode.

Things get weird when you fall down and can't pick yourself up again. Maybe that's why I believe in God, because I have to, since I know I didn't save my own damned self.

On my crawl back up, I learned about kindness. When you're so nice you empty yourself of any goodness left to give, it takes a village to get on your feet again. In the pinnacle of Covid's hysteria, quarantine storms raging, their business risking failure, without question or consideration of personal cost, my aunt and uncle brought me Home.

Self-care isn't selfish because you can't take care of anyone else until you mind your own business. In being shown kindness, I learned to be kind. As I learned to forgive myself, I forgave others. After finally coming home to a space where I found peace and healing, I left filled enough to share with others. Even when I'm living paycheck-to-paycheck, I enjoy being generous, because I know the depth of my blessings. And that's the only nice shit that matters.

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