Recently when I woke up from a routine medical procedure, I asked my wife, “Was I on my side when they brought me back?”
I only remember asking this once, but apparently my curiosity bordered on obsession—I asked it not once but several times.
“Was I on my side? Was I on my side?”Yes,she said. (And stop asking me that.)
Was I on my side?Maybe what I was asking was less about my physical position than my attitudinal state. I think I was really asking if I was on my own side. Did I have my own back?Was I in my own corner?
It’s the kind of question I try to answer in the affirmative these days, though like most of us,I was well-schooled in shame, self-persecution, and doubt . in.
And the more I buff and shine the light I want to share as a grown-ass woman, the more those old habits want to kick I know I’m staring at an old habit when I’m tempted to agree to doing something that really isn’t my thing, out of a wish to please, or a need to prove my worth, or just because I’ve always done it.
So one way I try to have my own back is to look carefully at my choices and follow the energy. If I find myself drained and tired just thinking about a potential activity, I must decline, or wiggle out of it if I made the mistake of committing.
Some examples: I used to think I had to be an out-there activist, as in marching, organizing, agitating. I used to think my writing should be more relevant, as in political. I used to think I ought to commit to various public meetings to help influence policy for the better.
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On My Own Side
By Shawndra Miller
Miller