Transitions

Why do we fight so hard against the tide?

Pushing, flailing, running against the grain until exasperated and forced to give in. 

In a fateful accident on May 24th, 2019 I hit the ground and pulled myself up with injuries that turned out to be fairly life changing. Not for their permanence, but for the way they’d catapult me into a transition I never saw coming or could have manifest in my own mind if a fortune teller had spoken it to me. 

For now, I’ll leave the gruesome details out of it, but in the weeks that came to pass I had an operation to repair a shattered ankle. I was unable to bear any weight on my left leg for more than three months because of a double injury - broken ankle plus triple tibial plateau fractures. I spent my Hot Girl Summer in a neon green cast from my foot up to my upper thigh that made sitting on the toilet a literal pain in the ass. I discovered why Future is so enamored with Percocet and was only able to  wear biker shorts and t-shirts for months as that was the only thing that made sense with a cast up to my vagina. 

In the middle of all of that, I very abruptly, with the help of my inner circle,  packed up me and my daughter’s most important belongings and relocated to my hometown of Winston-Salem, North Carolina to be with my family as my four year relationship with my daughter’s father came to a crash and burn ending. 

Back in my bedroom that wasn’t truly my childhood bedroom because my parents moved into this house the same fall that I left for college, I scrolled tirelessly through the internet hoping to piece together the answers. When would I be back in New York? Well, according to my doctor I’ll be walking again by this date. I’ll need this many weeks of physical therapy. I should be healed and ready to go by this time. Spoiler alert: that anticipated date for returning to New York has come and gone and though I’m walking regularly without assistance it’s absolutely not without pain. Each step is still pretty questionable and long distances like one entire New York City block have the potential to take everything I’ve got in energy for the day.

For the girl who so easily packed up her suitcases and pursued a media career in New York nearly ten years ago with about $1000 to her name, this fate felt unreal. It felt disrespectful. Shameful. Heartbreaking. Like a fucking nightmare. 

But during all this time my deep feelings of resentment and confusion sat juxtaposed to my daughter’s unwavering radiant energy. The girl has a smile that could melt the heart of an assassin. All of this, the sudden reality that her mommy could not hold her and walk from room to room, mommy’s need for crutches, the flight from Laguardia to Charlotte Douglas strapped to her godmother’s chest in the Ergo Baby carrier, learning to sleep alone in a foreign bedroom that once belonged to her uncle, building a bond with her “Giga” and her “Gandaddy”, getting acquainted with the teachers and other children at her new daycare (a huge shift from being watched by her aunt in Brooklyn), no longer riding in a stroller everyday but in a car seat. All of these changes, these transitions, my baby girl took in stride. 

Is it possible to be inspired by a two yer old? Yeah. 21-months-old the day we landed here and barged in on my nearly retired parent’s lives, Melody has proven to be a master at the art of transitioning. She doesn’t jump right in expecting to be perfect, she doesn’t even welcome all chances to get it right. She does what she can when she can and in other times when she falls short of perfect and doesn’t let it bother her. 

Don’t feel like FaceTiming and would rather stare at Cocomelon? That’s what I’m going to do. 

This is gross, why’s it on my plate, I’m not eating that mom. Sorry, not sorry. 

Skipped the potty, the pull-up will do, try again next time? 

Couldn’t sleep all night in this weird crib with no sides, mommy, scoot over I’m coming in! 

These things are likely innate at two to just go with the flow of what feels right for a small toddler. So, at what point didI lose my natural sensibility to accept my current state for what it is and just be? 

In recent weeks I’ve found myself more at ease since I’ve adopted the mentality that my current state is exactly where I’m meant to be. 

So what does that look like? 

Releasing the constant urge to “figure it out”. I wasted hours upon hours in the first few months of this transition scrolling through apartment listings in New York in the back of my mind knowing that unless you’re ready to drop the money and all your paperwork in the next few hours searching for a New York City apartment is futile. But, also in my mind, getting back to the city as quickly as possible was the goal. 

Maybe it’s the way fall naturally seduces you with it’s warm colors and desire for cozies, or better yet it’s probably the fact that I’ve regained function of my leg, but I’m cherishing the days out in the Carolina air. Driving with the windows cracked. Having coffee on a Saturday morning at Whole Foods. Dressing Melody and myself in stylish layers because it’s that time of the year for full on ‘fits. 

So, how long will we be here? I’m not really sure. And I’m no longer pressed to have an answer to that question for every acquaintance or stranger who asks. The moments spent here in time of transition are not by accident so why should I miss the beauty of it with my eyes fixed on something that has yet to be revealed to me. This is where I am, so this is where I shall be.