A Word with Aramide

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Welcome to A Word With Aramide. I document my film reviews, interviews, TV overviews, and life in general.

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Autumn Autumn has always felt like the end of the year to me, much more so than January 1st. The cool air brushes against your skin jolting you awake from a long warm daydream, sweeping away the summer's heat from your memory; forcing you to focus on the here and now. It's a new beginning.

Last autumn, I was picking up the pieces of my dignity, and scraping together my self esteem.  (In my work life anyway. I wouldn't call it my career.) I left a job that seemed to be crushing my sprint, for another that would help me pass the time. 365 days seems like a life time ago now. It's my 3rd fall with Daddy gone, and my 6th without Mama. Sometimes on random days as I walk down cracked New York sidewalks, phone in one hand and coffee in the other, I choke on my tears, the wound is still raw, bloody even; the band-aid I slap over it just seems to last for longer stretches. Time is for coping I suppose.

This past spring, I discovered what I'm supposed to be doing and I'm doing it full steam ahead, passionately and joyfully. And yet, as I close my eyes most evenings, asleep sometimes before I can even burrow under the cocoon of my covers, I have doubts. So many fears and questions. My skin is too thin, I crack too easily. I haven't yet found the courage to read the comments under my work. A misspelled word or a strongly worded opinion feels like being taunted on the playground again. I tell myself constantly that I'm not the best. My words don't flow as eloquently as hers and my grammar certainly isn't on point like his. But I'm doing and showing and proving. I'm writing and that's what matters. (Or maybe I call my little sister up for the billionth time in a week and she tells me this.)

If the leaves slipping from the trees marks the beginning of things,  then it's been an interesting year. I've grown... I think. But this year, I've watched people I love and adore lose so much. Too much. Being on the other side of grief is crippling. You understand, but really how could u? What you've gone thru isn't the same. I've awkwardly offered my condolence and my support but it's never enough, just the bitter choking helplessness of watching others suffer.

I've loved wholly and fully, diving in headfirst into new adventures. I've wrapped myself completely in another person and I've felt calm. That same peacefulness that you find in a sunset in late spring over the water. But then, the uncertainly crept in the, doubts and fears and the desire to run. To seek out something... I'm not sure what yet. I'm still trying to figure that out.

On Saturday I went for a walk. As the light rain sprinkled on my face, it occurred to me that in the last few months, I've spent a great deal of time with others. I'm used to being alone. I've always enjoyed my own company, the time spent thinking and pondering, listening to music. People are fantastic, but I often find my thoughts clouded when I'm surrounded by them, or even by one.

Autumn is fascinating, this nearly perfect season of second chances... It forces you to find yourself again.

xoxox Chocolate Girl in the City xoxoxox

Image: Giphy

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