Balance

A few months ago, I lost my balance not physically, but in a different way.

In that moment, I learned who I could rely on,  who would be there to pick me up.
I was reminded that the harder the fall, the stronger the comeback.
It became an unexpected lesson in humility, endurance, and love.

I found myself asking questions I hadn’t asked in a long time:
Who shows up? How do I show up?
Who did I lose? Who was never really there to begin with?

As always, my students say it as it is. Plain and simple. 

One of them said to me, “Ms., life be like a fucking storm. Shit’s coming at you nonstop. It knocks you down, yanks you back up, spins you around till you don’t know which way is up. There’s so much to deal with. When you’re locked up, everything’s simple. Plain. 
Out here? There be options—too many options. Your head’s always racing.
I don’t wanna be locked up again, but out here? The winds are wild. They don’t let up.”

I told her, “I know. It can be really hard.”

She looked at me, surprised. “You actually feel me, Ms.? It hard for you too?”

“Totally,” I said. “It’s hard for all of us. Maybe not all the time, and maybe in different ways—but life is hard, and we all have a hardship that we’re dealing with.”

“So how the fuck do you deal with it?” she asked.

“You find your people,” I told her. “You lean on them. You ask for help. And you don’t pretend it isn’t hard.”

“And if you don’t have people?” she asked.

“Then you become your own people,” I said. “You learn to believe in yourself.”

“That’s messed up,” she said.

“No,” I told her. “That’s life.”

She paused, then said quietly,
“Well life, Ms., it pulling me down. I don’t know how long I can do this. Is it like this all the time?”

“No,” I said. “The hard comes and goes. Sometimes it feels like it’ll never leave—but it does.”

“So what do you do, Ms.?”

I told her I’m lucky. I have siblings who show up. Two sisters and a brother. They are my rock; they are solid.

I have friends who can hold my crazy, and girl, I can be crazy and get crazy. They listen and love me anyway. 

Friends who drive me places and talk me off the ledge.

Friends who hold me up.

I have people who love the work I do and support me, and YOU, too.
And, there are people who believe in us even when we don't believe in ourselves.

“Damn,” she said. “You lucky as fuck.”

I smiled. “Yes, I am,” I say. 

I always knew I was lucky, or as my students say, “blessed.”
But this work reminds me every day how lucky I am.
Lucky to be loved, to have a family that doesn’t just care, but shows up. 

She looked at me and said,
“My family, Ms.? They’re dead, locked up, or on crack.”

“I’m sorry,” I said softly.

“Don’t be,” she said. “That makes me special, ’cause I’m not none of that shit no more.”

I laughed. “You’re right. You know why you’re special? Because you don’t give up when it’s hard. You do the work. And those winds you talk about? You navigate them like a captain steering a ship.”

She grinned.
“Oh, so you saying I’m a badass pirate?”

I laughed again. “I’m saying you’re doing life. And yeah, you’re one hell of a badass pirate.”

She looked at me and said, “It’ll be okay, Ms.”

I smiled. “Yeah. It will.”

“And,  you’ll be okay too.”

“I know,” I told her. “Who’s gonna mess with me and my badass pirate?”

She laughed. “Girl, sounds like your siblings are one badass gang.”

“They are,” I said. “My gang.”

She nodded. “Guess we all gotta find our BAG, the bad ass gang to hold us up.
Or be the OG. Our Own Gang.”

“That’s gangster,” I said.

“Yup,” she smiled. “It is.”

We laughed, and the winds calmed down, and we both could breathe.