Drip drip
Sometimes it isn’t the big things that define us…it is the small. Today, is a big day for me. Because I finally published my blog. Grace and Courage, after months of writing documents in Word, transferring them (or not) endless editing and worrying people will see it… people will see me… Nope. Today its the small things that have made my day. My grace and courage photoshoot has come together. I’m actually meal prepping and planning my week like a grown ass adult (I will be 31 in 11 days time) the whole thing has an air of self improvement to it… which brings me to my next thing. I started a new job recently. I’m back into commuting, back into “wake up at 5:30am” pack a lunch and be on your way… That’s me again. I gave myself a “pass” last week as it was my first week in the office. Meanwhile I’m not giving myself that pass this week. This week is about setting forward the habits I need for this new role. Water, fruit, veg, walking, sleep etc…
That’s a massive tangent to say, I’m raising my standards for myself. And having had rock bottom standards in the past, it feels different, like a new coat, like a new type of success. Long gone is “toxic hustle culture” Welcome in “balance, standards and clarity” and as a result I’ve been thinking about some things.
The British Airways sale is on in the UK, (that’s not a plug, its the truth) and I have been looking up flights for trips I “owe” myself. Brazil. Munich, etc… and I’m thinking about next year.
Next year is my mum’s 60th birthday, and I was meant to go to Sierra Leone to spend some time with her… I love my mum…but…There is no way in all the seven hells that I want to spend £2,500-£3,000 pissing it up the wall in the name of culture. I don’t like my family. I feel too much has happened (as in not happened) for me to have any actual love for my family. What I do feel however is trauma bonded. My mum felt supported by her family when she was going through hard times and out of loyalty to my mum I felt I should care for these people too. Same thing with my dad. He loved his “famble” very deeply…shame I wasn’t included in that particular group. I was his “Family” which was the outer ring of “famble” Anyway, so any lingering affection I had was based on that of my parents, and now as an adult I see them for what they are. A sink hole for money and obligation in terms of time and energy. And I really haven’t received enough warmth from that particular fire to contribute or perpetuate that broken system. As a result I don’t want to go to my own mother’s birthday because its far too much money to spend on people I don’t like.
1 of 2 things will happen if I go.
I “play Christian” and be the bigger person and live up to all the cultural expectations and get more and more furious when money flies out of my bank account for people who wouldn’t spit if I was on fire.
2. I act like a complete dick the entire time and match their levels of pettiness. I “pop off” everytime they’re rude or unfeeling towards me and show everyone 0 empathy. It is an active choice because I’m pretty calm and very British so this would be a whole new personality type for me.
Truth is that I’m not willing to do either of these things, and so it is better I stay behind. I have no business being in the company who have disappointed me that much. Lets not say hurt, disappointment is the optimal word, because even within the dysfunctional realm of African families, there is still love and care…except in my family when there is complete apathy that considering the sacrifices I personally have made for the family to enjoy the “cultural troupes” of “Western aunty Gloria” (my mum) there needs to be real love. Uselessness, and half assed energy is not good enough. So if I can’t be a Christian in Sierra Leone, I have no business there.
Grace and Courage.
Annetta Mother Smith