Trauma, Aging, and Mourning The Death Of Your Youth And Beauty.

Want To Know What It Means To Mourn The Death Of Your Youth And Beauty?

All my life, I didn’t recognize my own beauty. I never gave it much thought. I was too busy just being a fun, happy, and SINGLE woman enjoying life. No matter how many men expressed interest in me, it never dawned on me to think of myself as beautiful. In fact, I remember candidly a boy in my Art class looking me dead in the face and telling me that I was ugly. I never got as much attention as my light skin sister, nor did I have as many friends. I just never took the time to invest in my beauty. Getting my hair and nails done was merely to pamper myself, and a little make up and gloss was just to feel good. Never beautiful.

As I navigated life and my career, I stressed over trying to do my job and my toxic relationships. My heart was broken a few times, and this led me into a state of depression that eventually ended my career. That and the fact that I fell out of love with being in the Army. Despite this stress, and weight gain, I maintained my beauty. Then around 2017, I started experiencing spiritual attacks. Haunted by one failed relationship, his demons, jealous women, and hatred towards me and my family. This caused me to lose my sanity a few times, and I had to fight just to survive. In the midst of this my beauty began to fade as I began neglecting my self care. I was too exhausted to do anything else outside of fight and rest.

Leading up to what I see in the mirror now. A tired black woman who looks like she is raising a Village of children in a toxic environment. Boy… the hurt I see in my eyes causes me to avoid the mirror most times. At first I thought it was shame, but what I’m really hiding from is RAGE. Rage not only towards that man, those women, and the world that watched my destruction, but at myself. I was placed into a war that I didn’t have the tools to fight. Just for walking away. I guess they thought, “If we can’t have her, no one can”. Thinking that robbing me of my beauty and exposing me at my lowest would make me undesirable for anyone else. Maybe it will, but I don’t think so.

I don’t know if they are done with their games, but I know I’m done participating. Not just because I no longer look pretty, but because I still got so much shit to do. They took soooooo much from me, that I will get back eventually. And it’s simply because it belongs to me. It’s obvious that they couldn’t use what they took anyway. Thankfully, being beautiful wasn’t the key to my magic. In fact I don’t even know what the key is. It just simply is. So I will simply BE. This mess. This glory. This beautiful being. I mourned three deaths that changed my life: my sister’s, my youth, andy beauty. Interesting how one led to the others. I’m no longer in mourning. Now I’m on a mission. As I already was. Now I CHOOSE to remain youthful as possible, up my self care and get my beauty back. One day at a time.

I say this to say this sistahs. Don’t be so shallow. People like to say that being pretty will get you what you want; maybe; but at the end of the day you’ll be a corpse. Men will stress you out, play you, and discard you. Jealous women will work with men to destroy you. And at the end of it all, you will no longer recognize who you are as time passes and experiences shape you. I would say move wisely, but the people I speak of are hidden, so sit comfortably. They are watching and stalking. LET IT HAPPEN. And you can decide to BOSS UP and get better, or let it make you bitter. CHOOSE WISELY. I promise on the other side of this is your super power. Your magic. Your best self. And always remember that she’s beautiful.

Me; Tanisha

© Tanisha R. Coleman, 2022. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Tanisha R. Coleman with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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