Roots & Hope

Soulful Reflections on Faith, Healing, and Young Adulting

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Since Feb. 2016, I’ve encouraged myself and others on this honest blog, Roots and Hope. I love to share my heart about faith, mental health, & young adulting.
  • One Day at a Time: What Reminds Me of Joy

    One Day at a Time: What Reminds Me of Joy

    Disappointment has scarred the past few months of my life. It has manifested as constant worry, feelings of inadequacy, chest pains, sleep-deprived nights, sadness, and let me admit, spending far too much time on social media.

    Recently, I let go of some commitments to focus on my spiritual and mental health. That decision, in itself, was beyond difficult for me. I have always felt uncomfortable with cultivating and prioritizing my well-being. The fear of possibly letting others down in order to stop running on empty has almost been stagnating.

    ***

    “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I just woke up feeling sad and not wanting to do anything at all today.”

    This past Sunday, I texted one of my best friends that message when I could barely eat, get dressed, and go to church. During a phone call the day before, I told another friend that I’ve been feeling depressed.

    Thankfully, on Sunday morning, I decided to leave my apartment. The temperature rested in the 70s, and I was reminded of joy.

    I even tried Indian food later that evening that tasted delicious.

    ***

    Most of my previous blog posts are accounts of my journey with loneliness, sadness, and the uncertainty of how to find community and feel confident, post-graduation. In this post, I’d like to share and reflect on activities and aspects of my life that remind me of Joy whenever my grasp of hope loosens, of how my story isn’t over yet.

    What Reminds Me of Joy: 

    • Fresh Air

      • Sometimes, I’m tempted to stay in bed all day. Getting up and going outside is almost always worth it though. I’ve been on the lookout for great outdoor areas to read, walk, and chill in Detroit and surrounding areas. If you have a favorite spot in the area for this same purpose, please let me know before it gets cold! (If you have a favorite, non-hipster coffee shop, please let me know that too for when it does get cold, haha).

    • Prayer

      • When I pray, I try to be honest, express gratitude, and surrender any guilt, fear, or shame. Prayer is powerful. The hard part for me, though, is praying consistently.

    • Family

      • I love the family that I’ve known all my life. (On that note, my mom’s birthday is coming up, and she’s a great mother.) I’m also grateful for recent opportunities to build new relationships with other family that I haven’t known as long.

    • Friends

      • Loneliness sucks. I’m still figuring out how to build new friendships in Detroit, but it’s been great to savor moments of connection with old friends (shout out to the Uj staff reunion in Atlanta, and the times of seeing my best friends from way back every now and then).

    • Laughter

      • It’s legit healing for me. Catch me in a good laugh at work, at home, or elsewhere, and you’ll know that it’s real, snorks and all.

    • Music

      • I’m an avid Spotifier (yep, just created my own word), and I often listen to playlists, like Positivity (a mix of artists like Goapele, Pac, Musiq, John Mayer, and Donny Hathaway), Positivity 2, and Christian Music. Most of the songs on those playlists are explicitly encouraging while others just make me feel happy. Feel free to check them out, and let me know what you think.

    • Reading

      • Some of the books that I’ve read lately are Kindred and Parable of the Sower by Octavia Butler, Drown by Junot Diaz, The Four Agreements by Don Miguel Ruiz, The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho, and Bipolar Faith by Dr. Monica Coleman. I’m slowly reading through Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis now. I’m a big fan of blogs too, like hannahbrencher.com.

    • Ice Cream

      • Just because it’s amazing.

    • Vision Board and Gratitude Box

      • This is a recent addition to the list. After over-spending at Michael’s, I made a vision board on which I imagined how my confidence, faith, and professional journeys could take flight. I also purchased a gratitude box that was on sale and have been putting notes of thankfulness inside. It all feels corny, but it really has helped motivate me.

    As much as I care about loving and helping others, I also want to learn how to celebrate myself. On my best days, it’s easier to remember that I’m an awesome person with quirks, laughter, hugs, and hopes. I don’t want the sparks inside me to extinguish and fade in fear. I want to choose me and not be ashamed.

     

  • Acceptance: A Tug-of-War

    Acceptance: A Tug-of-War

    In May, I spent time reading Unashamed, an autobiography by Lecrae, a rapper whose music has inspired many people. Throughout his book, Lecrae openly reflected on struggles faced along his journey so far. Namely, he’s deeply wrestled with feeling like an outsider, or in his words, an anomaly.

    As a child, Lecrae didn’t have a relationship with his biological dad who chose to abandon him. He sought the support of other older men, but they never filled the role of a father. As a teen and young adult, he overcompensated with the fleeting validation of sex, countless women, and materialism. Lecrae gradually deepened his faith in Jesus, but his most recent position as a Christian and rapper has had its share of trials. His albums have topped charts and earned Grammys; yet, in his book, he vividly recalls instances of being invisible, especially in mainstream music circles.

    Throughout all of Lecrae’s life, his experience of being an outsider has taken shape in many forms. It often drove him to seek wholeness and completion from others. Over time, he realized that flawed humans can’t fill any voids inside him. Only God can. He learned that, “If you live for people’s acceptance, you’ll die from their rejection.”

    Although my story isn’t identical to Lecrae’s, I deeply connect with his experience. I’ve hungered for complete assurance that I am accepted and embraced by everyone even though that isn’t possible. My journey has been a tug-of-war between learning forgiveness/how to focus on who loves being in my life, and giving into the tough habits of living for external validation and breaking down from rejection.

    It’s been a year and a month since I graduated and moved back to Detroit. On the upside, I now have my own apartment, and I’m nearing my first anniversary of working with youth at my job. Still, I miss companionship, especially during these trying times when Black lives are continually being targeted. I’m honestly struggling with seeking and building new, meaningful friendships.

    I am praying to move forward in awareness that God accepts me, and nothing can separate me from his presence. The future is unclear and the present feels solitary, but I am holding on to the hope of being sustained by a love that’s infinite.

     

     

     

  • Does Life Really Get Better?

    Does Life Really Get Better?

    “Hope is peace. Hope informs your greatest peace. Hope is triumphant. Hope holds no law. Hope is without doubt the greatest thing with love. Hope is peace. Hope is patient. Hope endures. There is hope in the waters of life that flow from the river of God. Hope rejoices. In hope, there is life.”

    Almost a week ago, one of my little sibs from Stanford messaged me with this random, yet beyond timely note. Not long before I scanned her words on Facebook Messenger, I made the commitment to start placing my trust and hope in God.

    Over the past year, the pieces of my post-grad journey have not come together as I’ve imagined. I am grateful for steady income and the experience of building deeper relationships with some of my students. I am excited to move into my first place this month, and meditate on the gift of space.

    In my free time, though, loneliness rather than community still cling to me. Since graduating, I’ve steadily lost confidence in my abilities to write and share anything, especially poetry. Then, there’s also my ongoing battle against a dimming type of relativity – Who am I relative to everyone else? In comparison to what others have to offer, how can my story, my skills, my appearance, my everything ever be sufficient to be loved? How can I radiate with light if I just can’t seem to quit diminishing my worth?

    And beyond me, the world’s wounds feel more salient everyday. Hatred and every toxic “ism” make it that much more difficult to be hopeful. While others are continually dying unjustly or too soon, I am still alive in this moment. In awareness of this, the pressure to derive deep meaning, and create a powerful impact with the life that I have left to live is all too real.

    I am not powerful enough to specifically know how my journey and the paths of those with whom I interact will shape out. I am not wise enough to foresee if life will ever get better in every way I hope in the future, and if it does, how I’ll cope if things become worse again. This unsettles me, but has recently also pressed me further into trusting that although I lack wisdom, God knows every story and everything.

    Lately, when I haven’t felt the most valuable, I tell myself, “I, too, am beautiful” or repeat the mantra referred to in my last post. When I feel fearful or insecure, I remind myself that I am safe in God’s hands. While I journal, I also push myself to write down my prayers.

    My hope is that over time, I can recollect that God moves in the depths of pain, the peaks of celebration, and the plateaus of the mundane.

    Perhaps, this life will never be completely better, but I’m trusting that the lessons learned along the way will make it absolutely worth the living.

  • I am alive for a purpose

    I am alive for a purpose

    You made all the delicate inner parts of my body and knit me together in my mother’s womb. Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex! Your workmanship is marvelous – how well I know it. . .How precious are your thoughts about me, O God. They cannot be numbered. -Psalm 139:13-14, 17 (Bible, New Living Translation)

    Throughout my life thus far, I have struggled the most with seeing myself as a beautiful creation. As I have referenced in previous blog posts, self-love has often felt like an impossible gift to unwrap. My appearance, my character, and even my existence have all failed, at some point, to achieve my standard of worthiness and adequacy.

    From middle to high school, I battled suicidal thoughts so much that I almost sacrificed my faith. How could I believe in God when He created someone as disappointing as me? If you asked me how I felt about myself back then, I would say something to the likes of:

    • I’m not pretty.
    • My skin color is too dark.
    • My hair is too nappy (before I started getting my hair straightened).
    • I’m not even fashionable.
    • Boys don’t ever try to talk to me.
    • I don’t have the relationship that I wish I could have with certain people in my life. I guess I’m not good enough for them.
    • Please don’t take a picture of me.
    • I’m not cool enough.
    • I don’t have anything that’s worthwhile to say.
    • I don’t get how I can be loved by anyone.

    Whenever I reflect on those times, I am so thankful that I did not give up on my life.

    If I did, I would’ve missed out on attending Stanford, having unimaginable experiences, and meeting so many people who inspired me to build my confidence. I would not have been able to return home to Detroit, and work with one of the most amazing youth programs to have ever existed. I would be unable to continue striving to encourage family, friends, and others with my unfolding journey.

    If I decided to commit suicide, I may have never come to realize that God knows me, cries with me, and loves me so much.

    Today, I am better at some things, like being in photos, and loving my hair and skin in their natural glory. Yet, I still frequently compare myself to others, and worry that my beauty is too blurry or elusive to embrace.

    Although my battle with low self-esteem is ongoing, I am hopeful that I will intentionally overcome with time. Since returning to the D, I’ve tried to hold myself accountable to countering fear with acts of love and courage. Recently, I began to remind myself on a daily basis of characteristics that I am aiming to embrace wholeheartedly:

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    I agree with Langston that, “life for me ain’t been no crystal stair”. I doubt that it ever will be. There is no clear-cut remedy to overcoming depression and low self-worth, but gratefully, I am sustained by a force that is greater than me.

    blog (2)
    “Allow my evolving story to be a blessing.”

     

     

  • Tired of Hiding

    Tired of Hiding

    I am tired of hiding:

    inside fear.

    underneath cotton blankets with finite shelters (“snooze” buttons only soothe for so long).

    behind dangling dreams hanging from heights, seeming to be unreachable.

    within the fruitless toiling of comparing my depth, gifts, and flaws to others’ picturesque snapshots.

    for the sake of familiarity, of hoarding unboxed confidence in rooms that suffocate.

    until life becomes easy.

    because it never will be.

    because emergence is sometimes difficult,

    often pre-positioned by the rockiness of confronting and learning to embrace my whole self.

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

  • Fleeting Confidence and India.Arie

    Fleeting Confidence and India.Arie

    Coldstone is my favorite ice cream shop. Since high school, I’ve devoured the “Love It”, sometimes “Gotta Have It” sized goodness of sweet cream enhanced by strawberries, Oreos, and hot fudge. Since finally getting my driver’s license last summer, I’ve frequented the nearest franchise of ice cream heaven.

    Two weeks ago, one of my best friends and I caught up on each other’s lives while sitting inside of a crowded, you’ve guessed it, Coldstone. We’ve been friends since the 6th grade, and she’s affirmed me through the sunrise and pitch blackness. She has always reminded me to press into dark moments, and seek the immense light absorbed within. Our reunion was no different this time around, and it gifted me with an urgent prayer:

    God, please show me why you love me, and what is it that you love about me? Help me to see myself the way that you see me.

    Some days, I sample confidence. I gaze into the mirror with admiration for my chocolate covering and kinky hair, and savor my “Positivity” playlist with India.Arie along the morning drive to work. I feel gratitude when I reflect on my story and my character that has been birthed within the pages.

    Though freeing, those days are consistently fleeting.

    Much more often, my routine is shaped by a reluctance to rise out of bed, and a struggle to live without evaluating my existence and impact as inadequate. It is a dizzying seesaw of prayer and worry, of comparison and emptiness, of fear and fatigue. It is a rejection of my divinely knit features.

    I am hoping though that the shape of my life will evolve, and blossom from the gift of prayer. I am looking ahead to when I can see myself as a masterpiece in God’s gallery, and encourage others along the way.

    While I learn to savor holistic love, I will offer my heart as a space for healing. And if you were wondering, yes, I will most definitely continue to indulge in Coldstone heaven and India.Arie.

    You are beautiful like a flower,

    More valuable than a diamond.

    You are powerful like a fire.

    You will heal the world with your mind.

    There is nothing in this world that you cannot do

    When you believe in you.

    – India.Arie

     

     

     

  • Making Sense of Concrete

    Making Sense of Concrete

    I have been thinking about concrete. Three weeks ago, this word randomly came to me as words occasionally do, and it has consumed me ever since.

    Created with earth and brokenness, concrete is a heavy blend of fragmented stones, water, clay, and other particles of matter. In its hardened state, it functions as a sturdy foundation for buildings and a reliable surface for travel.

    As I think about concrete’s relevance, I reflect on how attached I am to small details. This past week, I stumbled over countless minor features that didn’t emerge how I hoped:

    I was going to wake up early and set aside ample time for prayer, perspective, and a real breakfast. Yet, I often didn’t get out of bed until I had just enough time to prepare for the day. I also scrambled to have my hair blow dried and trimmed, and I scrolled through countless Pinterest pictures of gorgeous box braids. Although I anticipated having a similarly compliment-worthy hairstyle, my braider ended up cancelling the appointment. To add to the mix, the discovery of my shrunken blue jeans that I purchased just last year frustrated me to no end.

    The list goes on. 

    With my permission, minor and non life-threatening matters negatively altered my attitude. Whenever I didn’t wake up early enough, for instance, I scolded myself for failing to cultivate what could become a rewarding and important habit. The details, whether major or minor, controllable or uncontrollable, that didn’t work out seemed endless. They became stones that I threw at myself rather than stones that I used for something constructive.

    I want the stones and particles that comprise my life’s matter, or in other words, the details, to be purposeful and functional. Whether the details are satisfying, annoying, seemingly nonsensical, or plain rough, I want to allow myself to feel their impact, but to also move beyond, blending them into a foundation on which I can build, and move forward.

     

  • When Loneliness Feels Routine

    When Loneliness Feels Routine

    Last year on Valentine’s Day, I cried during the cross-campus walk to my dorm. I was the co-president of the Black Student Union, and we had just concluded our annual Black Love concert. Our headliner, Luke James, anchored a night of beautiful performances, and we thankfully hosted another successful event.

    I joined others in cleaning up the venue once the concert ended – unrolling rugs, moving couches, and throwing away trash while praying that my debris would remain tucked inside. Once the space was cleaned, I said my goodbyes, and escaped.

    By the time my limbs carried me to the center of campus, my eyes were leaking with tears. A few minutes later, I heard the approaching ramble of bike wheels, and a voice screaming “Jess!” Perfect timing, right? Absolutely not. My friend stopped beside me, and quickly realized that I was not okay. The last thing I wanted was someone to know how I was honestly feeling, but at that moment, it was companionship that I needed most.

    I told her that I was still struggling to love myself. I felt ashamed that on Valentine’s Day, albeit a hyper-commercialized occasion to celebrate love, I could barely recollect any reasons to embrace myself. I admitted that I care so much about being kind to others because I don’t want anyone to ever feel the way that I’ve felt when depleted of self-love. She listened and encouraged me. She reminded me that I am worthy of love and that it is a sustaining gift is to take ownership of that. She reinforced the power of friendship.

    When Loneliness Feels Routine

    Since moving back to Detroit, most of my time has been spent at work or with family. While I am blessed to have both of these things, I have also felt overwhelmingly lonely.

    My friends from college and my friends from home, most of whom no longer live in the city, are all, like me, navigating the highs and lows of adulthood. Often, life gets in the way of frequent communication, so I try to savor every opportunity that arises for a Skype chat, phone call, or face-to-face reunion. Still, nothing quite parallels a friend’s physical presence.

    As an introvert, too, I am not a traditional social butterfly. I will never be the most outgoing person in the room, but I have always had a huge heart for people. I struggle with surface-level small talk, but I thrive off of deep conversations and community.

    Since returning in June, I have visited almost ten churches in hopes of finding a Christ-centered home, but I still don’t know where God wants me. I continue to dream of encouraging others with my testimony and poetry, and I am hungry to connect with genuine people. Yet, I am afraid to put myself out there, and take risks like going to an open mic night by myself (read: social anxiety). But, I am even more fearful of losing grasp of the confidence that I gained in college by taking empowering chances.

    This season of isolation has been challenging, but it is pushing me to seek God’s presence in every situation. To have faith that unwavering love can radiate in even the thick of loneliness. To remind myself that faith without active courage is fuel unused.

  • The Allure of Unchangeable Circumstances

    The Allure of Unchangeable Circumstances

    “If only…” and “How come?” have, for many years, been pills of choice in my medicine cabinet. Whenever I find myself discouraged, I ache, and I’m tempted to medicate myself with yearnings for unbounded abilities – like longing for infinite wisdom, or another extreme, desperately wanting an alternate life with ignorance of suffering.

    I have struggled with exhausting energy on circumstances that I have no power to change. There have been many moments in which I have questioned God’s creative process. Why did He deliberately sculpt me with particular inner and outer characteristics? How could God allow pain, or even absence, from certain people who should have loved me by default?

    Mulling over these questions has lead to frequent battles with comparison. Countless times, I’ve placed other people’s surface-level circumstances on gold pedestals. I have envied the green lawns of others without understanding that they, too, are surviving with the beautiful mess of fertilizer and roots underneath.

    Lately, the words, “Love your neighbor as you love yourself,” have taken on a different meaning in my life. In Matthew chapter 22, verse 39, Jesus responds with these words after a religious expert asks him, “Teacher, which is the most important commandment in the law of Moses?”. He goes on to say that this command is equally important to the first and greatest instruction to “love the LORD your God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your mind.” Although the religious experts were so preoccupied with laws, Jesus was concerned with the wholeness of love. 

    The truth is that I have not treated the call to love others as a balancing act with loving myself. My friends and family would likely describe me as being kind (sometimes, too kind), gentle in manner, and maybe even hard-working. I wonder, though, if my potential to wholeheartedly embody love is inhibited every time that I am overly allured by unchangeable circumstances.

    Angela Davis once said,”I am no longer accepting the things I cannot change. I am changing the things I cannot accept.”

    I wonder if Davis meant that it is unproductive to solely surrender to circumstances that can’t be changed.

    In my life, perhaps, the real, fulfilling work lies in shifting my perspective. How do I make peace with all the unique characteristics that shape my journey? How can I do this while also changing anything that has kept me from unapologetically embracing my existence? From healing?

    If only it could all be so simple, but it rarely ever is.

    Yet, maybe, without intricacy, there would be no need for growth.

     

  • Roots

    Roots

    In September 2011, I frantically packed blue suitcases with my start-over items. As I prepared to attend Stanford for the next four years, I gathered objects that I hoped would be fitting for a new journey: the most memorable being my journal and beloved iPod Nano (which, in my opinion, had an untouchable collection of ’90s R&B and Hip-Hop). These items would help me process freshman year and retreat into nostalgia whenever I became homesick.

    Like a memento that I was too reluctant to dispose, though, fear also compartmentalized itself inside my luggage. Tucked in between tightly rolled clothes and hidden underneath zip-locked toiletries, it traveled thousands of miles to stay with me. With my chronic permission, it unpacked itself and decorated my life.

    Over the course of my time in college, I thankfully learned how to continually take chances even when I felt incredibly fearful. I learned how to share my thoughts in class, lead initiatives, and guide others. I gained wisdom about the power of vulnerability which led to meeting wonderful friends and mentors. I traveled to Cape Town, twice, and performed my poetry to large and small crowds. Most importantly, my faith deepened and anchored me during seemingly hopeless seasons.

    My days at Stanford are over, and I am not sure if fear will ever become a bygone existence. It still clings to me like a haunting souvenir. However, I have learned that to choose courage is to actively combat fear, and that is an ultimately difficult and meaningful endeavor.

    Being back home in Detroit (shout out to the Westside) means so much to me. My heart never left this city, and now that I have returned, the journey continues.

    Be cognizant of holistic stories, do good work, and refuse to let complacency pen the plot.

    These are some of my goals.

    Every day, I hope to do my best in my fight against fear. Sometimes, it is the simple act of getting out of bed when the day ahead seems dauntingly overwhelming. On other occasions, it is making small, conscious efforts toward melting myself in God’s definition of love, like writing as a form of self-care.

    My hunger for writing lies in its ability to sharpen my memory of hope, and inspire others to be kinder to themselves by trusting that their authentic presences matter. This blog will exist as one platform for sharing real-life stories and affirming the gift of dreaming.

    It is now four months shy of a year since I have graduated from college. My blue suitcases are presently submerged in fresh dust and idle in my mom’s basement. I am learning how to simultaneously be an adult and a child of humility, taking missteps that are frequent but never without purpose.

    If you are reading this (so upset that I couldn’t write that without thinking of Drake), I am optimistic that you and I can grow together through an exchange of stories. Too often, we ask folks, “How are you?”, without the expectation of ever receiving a real answer. Let this blog be a space that validates genuine community as a fundamental element of the human experience.