Why Joy is My Friend When Sh*t Hits the Fan
Moving to Los Angeles a year and a half ago was one of the best decisions I have ever made. And Lawd knows I have made some bad decisions. I’ve come to realize that one of the reasons why it was a good decision is that this place has given me space, distance, and time to breathe. To, for lack of a better term, choose Felicia. And choosing Felicia has brought me an unshakeable joy. Now that don’t mean that ish has been easy. Especially when just a couple of weeks ago life was showing off like a bad kid: Pops was in the hospital again. I had to file for unemployment. And I lost my favorite pair of earrings.
But this joy. This joy won’t go away. It’s foundational. Grounding. Runs deep. And it has a lot to do with gratitude and perspective as Ms. Oprah would say.
I’m grateful for tons of stuff. Small. Big. My gratitude changes. Grows.
Here are some of the things I give thanks for today:
- Unemployment benefits. Real talk. No, like for real.
- This morning’s 6 am Crossfit workout. I wasn’t going to go. Got there and saw that the workout included a 1 mile run. Running is my arch nemesis. That and burpees. Wanted to turn right back around and go home. Didn’t. Felt good as hell at the end, even after a woman hit my car in the parking lot. ’Twas just a scratch.
- Friends who invite me over for Thanksgiving.
- Dancing with my mother last week at her 70th birthday party.
- The medical staff at the hospital for helping to care for my father.
- Reconciling with my father.
- My 35-minute ride to the beach, my happy place.
- Sunday’s episode of Insecure. Hella entertaining. Oh and Queen Sugar. Love that show.
- The new Tribe. That Solange. Chance. Old Kanye. Wait ‘til I get my money right. Although some of that Pablo rocks too. “Fade” made me remember and download some Barbara Tucker. Lately, black art been keeping this black girl from having to, as President Obama would say, “pop off.”
- Men who buy me crabs and let me have the last one. And who also tell me to turn my frustrations into words because, when it’s all said and done, I’m a freakin’ writer.
- Activists who show up with their bodies. #NoDAPL
- People who read my scripts and provide thoughtful feedback. Makes me feel all official.
- This hot ass resilience that runs through my blood. From my parents, my grandparents and beyond. These hands are their hands.
This joy I tell you. Unshakeable.
Felicia Pride writes. Visit her online at feliciapride.com.
