Could add in Medium too, ButtonDown, Kit. The list could go on. And what am I going on about?
Well behind the scenes I’m working on an offering and part of that is practicing how to support this offering. The story around it. So obviously this includes storytelling. And here I am racking my brains, tying myself into knots around not really ‘how’ to tell my story but ‘where’ to tell my story. I’m thinking it has to be somewhere new and clean and exciting. It has to have community built in with the capacity to grow. But I have to retain all control over it.
Why am I trying to reinvent the wheel when I already have my home, my digital home here. I already have my little corner of the internet where I can dance and prance and get silly or serious, all on my own terms.
So why would I want to leave here and try and create something else somewhere else. I’m safe and comfortable here. This is my homeplace (bell hooks).
I think I just need to get more intentional about what I’m sharing here and where I’m going with it. Be more consistent and focused with my message.
For now everything remains free here. But I’m thinking of creating a newsletter series, here to support my forthcoming offering. But don’t worry nothing is happening for now.
You are a free subscriber to this blog, website etc. and will remain that way. But we might be getting company, so just thought it right and proper to warn you.
I can feel myself withdrawing. Beginning to care less. And less.
September saw me start my L4 counselling with applied psychology course. I was the ideal student. A file for each discipline. Plastic wallets for detailed notes.
I was locked in. I was focused. I was giving this course all that I had.
Sidney realised she wasn’t fighting anything inside herself. She wasn’t carrying any weight or steeling herself against the world. She felt looser and tighter at the same time. That bath, she thought, was more than a bath.
Sky Full of Elephants by Cebo Campbell
Reading this section this morning brought tears to my eyes. I have felt this sensation. These feelings. Just this week. Just yesterday.
This week saw me hot foot it to London to attend a gathering called When The Institution Harms Again with Headstrong Academy and Foluke Taylor.
They had me at Foluke.
It was workshop for global majority trainees and therapies who are within these institutions that are teaching relational care and yet receive harm within these same institutions.
Thursdays are my days at college. A full day of white men’s theories with little consideration of society and culture. Racial capitalism. White supremacy culture.
Whiteness is the default setting. Whiteness is centred. Whiteness is the norm. Any deviation from whiteness is wrong. Is deviant. Is pathological.
When I was growing up I got beats for asking questions. I was taught to do what I was told without question. To be seen but not heard.
I question all the time now. I call it my rebellious curiosity ( thank you Dr Isha McKenzie Mavinga for this term). To others it could be seen as bringing it all back to race. Why does it have to be always about race with you, Sheree?
Why are you always causing problems? Why don’t you just shut up and put up?You are the problem.
I didn’t sleep well last night. I slept on the couch. Punishment? Knowing I’d have a rough night, I didn’t move into my bedroom. I didn’t got to bed.
My movements are slow this morning. My feet are dragging.
I’m not in my best place. Why should I give my best to them?
I’ve contemplated not going to college today. Not attending my course today. Leaving my course not just for today.
This isn’t new shit coming to life. I’ve written before about the harm caused by attending a counselling course.
I thought I was ready for the course this time. I thought I was fortified.
I thought things would be different. Hoped. Moved on, like I’ve moved on. But things are still stuck in the past. Stuck in unethical racism ( thank you Dr Julius Doyle for this new concept of racism).
Do what you need to do to pass the course, Sheree? Grit your teeth and carry on. Get the qualification and then do what the fuck you want.
Why should I continue to harm myself? No. Why should I continue to place myself in harm’s way?
Why can’t the way change? Why can’t things reflect reality more instead of continuing to prop up the lies and fictions and fantasy constructions.
I think it’s time to draw myself a bath. One like Sidney’s, a bath, more than a bath.
And no this isn’t suicidal thoughts.
It’s soul spirit fortifying talk and action. It’s choosing to stop fighting anything inside myself. It’s dropping the weights I’m carrying or the efforts I’m taking steeling myself against a world that is never going to see me as human.
This is me taking back my power. Erecting and double checking my protective bubble and it’s me remembering who I am.
It’s me showing up as me in all my fucking fullness.
My mother says that no one can give you your wholeness. You just have to claim it.
