X.....Student Becomes the Teacher

Maleeza Orilonise: Mum/Writer

5pm on  a school night, priding myself on the military precision of the stages of the "witching hours", play, home work, supper, bath...Stirring the steaming pot of culinary delights with one hand as I multi tasked the challenging first world problem of a low battery and  checked my phone with the other. I was alerted to the fact I could no longer hear my rambunctious Kindergartener playing next door in the living room. Wooden spoon intact, phone in the other hand with a maternal intensity of which only mothers are privy, I yanked
open the pocket door to the living room...As I strutted purposeful across the room my internal alarm commanded me to stop after my fifth step.
I witnessed an indelible Polaroid of my 5 year old son.
Ashamed, so engrossed in  judgement of what I had automatically deemed a negative deed transpired into an intrusion of my physical being.  My son and his grandmother were laying on the floor,  oblivious of my presence. Submerged in a magical interaction of such magnitude torrents of hot salty tears cascaded over  my cheeks.I silently raised my phone and captured the moment with a candid image.

I could have heard a penny drop.  

The mischievous  silence was deafening.  

Compelled bymy curiosity to explore I entered stealth mode...

A matriarch swaddled in traditional Yoruba cloth, identified by tribal scars.

Silhouettes...mirroring her teachers posture.

Rampant arthritis commanding her fingers to defiantly concave around a pencil.

Witness to the ilk of a clandestine affair. A visual revelation, they were engrossed. I was an intruder, the realization ensuring  I immediately commence my silent retreat  backwards.

I was never there.

Betraying a confidence, not my forte. However how could I refrain from not sharing this intimate revelation?

Seemingly selfish to retain.

I feel a compelling urge to share with the world...

Everyday I will teach you a new letter and this weekend I will teach you how to draw.

The pupil had become the tutor.

Tobias a Kindergartener was teaching his 80 year old grandmother an illiterate who had  begged to attend school 75 years ago in a remote village Mushini Abuja, Nigeria.

Tobias was teaching his grandmother to write her name as opposed to her customary X for the first time in her 80 years,

Bushiratu Orilonise wrote her name.

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Loving the Skin You're In..

Nadia Mejia, Miss California. Age:20

"My name is Nadia Mejia, I'm 20 years old, I'm the current Miss California USA. I frequently lead worship at my church in Los Angeles. I'm a full time model and I love the Lord more than anyone will ever be able to comprehend." That introduction makes it seem like I've got it all together doesn't it? Well... here in Los Angeles, we are professionals at putting up a good front. In today's society, we idolize people for the way they look, how many followers they have on Instagram, what cars they drive, etc. Sometimes it's hard to keep it together and pretend everything is perfect... so when I got asked by my beautiful friend Brandi to share my "not so private parts," a sense of relief hit me.

As women, we need to keep it real so that we are able to support and empower one another when things get rough. If I were to give an honest and more raw introduction of myself... considering all of the things that I go through... things that most people aren't aware of... it would sound more like this: "Hi, my name is Nadia Mejia; I'm a 20 year old who has recovered from, yet still battles Anorexia Nervosa every single day of my life... I am lonely and suffer mild depression because my entire family has lived across the country since I was 17 thus causing me to miss out on many life changing moments with the people who matter most, to due to my career... I am recovering from a breakup because I need to focus on myself as an individual and find happiness by being one with God and need to stop seeking happiness from a man... AND I love the Lord more than anyone will ever be able to comprehend." Not so glamorous anymore now, huh?

Thank God that I'm saved by the grace of God and have Him to get me through every trial and tribulation in my life. I had to hit rock bottom before developing that relationship. Growing up, I was raised in a Christian household. I attended church every Sunday and spoke about how much I loved the Lord, but still did not have that one-on-one "on fire" relationship with God that many of my peers spoke so highly of... at least not until I was broken, slowly killing myself, left clinging to my only hope... the Lord like no other.

Being a full time model, I'm constantly being judged based on my appearance and measurements. Breaking into the entertainment industry so young without my parents being there to keep me grounded and sane was extremely difficult. My mom and dad were going through the process of separating (but their faith in the Lord has kept them together to this day). I dealt with my anger and resentment a bit differently than probably most. I focused all of my energy and heart into my work to distract me from the chaos going on around me. I would focus so much on pleasing my bookers, who body shamed me endlessly, that I went from 132 lbs to 102 lbs in the matter of 2 months. I counted calories endlessly and refused to eat over 1000 cal a day. I ran 4 miles a day and feared food more than anything in the world. Eight months of my life, I struggled with this. But with the support of my family and my faith in God, I was able to overcome what the devil was telling me.

Upon realizing that my self worth should not come from someone else's opinion of me but that it should come solely from the Lord, I was given a new freedom. I am perfectly made in His image. I am never alone because He is always by my side. I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. My life isn't perfect, yet I'm not ashamed to share my "not so private parts."

I pray that my testimony will help inspire young girls to love the skin they are in. Today, I'm 130 lbs. I work alongside the National Eating Disorder Association. I am closer than ever to my family emotionally, simply because they were my rock throughout my recovery. I freely share my story with schools, churches, and many others throughout California because God has given me a voice and a reason to spread His light and love.

Remember as woman, we are all worth more than any precious pearl or jewel to the Lord, and we must remind each other of one another's beauty every single day. We are all His unique creation. Embrace who you are. 

Namastay...In Bed

Namast'Ay In Bed top by http://www.shoppinkblush.com

Its 2:00 a.m. and I'm in bed pumping my left breast, which has a clogged milk duct...Needless to say, THIS week was one for the books..Life was as real as the struggle, involving countless conversations centering around obtaining balance. In one of these conversations, a good friend gifted me with an "aha" moment...She said, "Balance is not what you want..Balance is complicated...Think Harmony..Thats what you want."  

My friend went on to explain via a visual regarding Balance. Visualize juggling plates or dishes while "balancing" on one foot and patting your belly...That's balance..Balancing is uncomfortable to say the least. Harmony on the other hand, one should visualize an orchestra, where there are moments of quiet and moments of intensity..There are moments when key instruments are asked to turn down or lay out and others are intensified...All of these musical calls are imperative to creating harmony. As a musician AND a wife of a musician, I could easily grasp this idea..Create harmony...NOT balance..

Creating harmony between being a new mom to a second human, AND maintaining all of my previous post babe responsibilities, can be at times challenging to say the least... I find myself asking a question that I hear so very often from a lot of creative/working moms.."How do I maintain harmony between self preservation and keeping the outside world happy? How do I take care of myself, without neglecting, ignoring, or giving the finger to everyone else? To be honest, I am still pondering this question..Perhaps it begins with, as I mentioned in the previous blog post, giving ourselves permission... or unlearning the idea that taking care of self, is somehow SELFish. Either way, I am still figuring it out...I will let you know if/when I receive the answer..For the time being, I am going to continue to pump my left breast in hopes that this plugged milk duct will dislodge and the world will continue to spin as usual..How are you creating harmony? I would love to hear..

On a totally different, yet related note..I am happy to announce #NotSoPrivateParts' collaboration with the apparel company, PinkBlush. Initially maternity focused, PinkBlush has now expanded and provides stylish yet affordable apparel for ALL women (Preggo or Not).. You can find this amazing "Namast'Ay In Bed" shirt that I am wearing here: http://www.shoppinkblush.com . This super cozy and soft shirt is the perfect thing to throw on during/after a much needed yoga session or with some relaxed denim for the perfect Saturday. This brand also has super fast shipping, which is always a plus. In addition, this shirt served as a gentle reminder for this week, that WE are ALL important and that Self Care is imperative..

http://www.shoppinkblush.com    http://www.pinkblushmaternity.com

MUTHA

Motherhood... I feel is a constant eb and flow between questioning if you are doing it "right" and not scarring your child... a consistent balance of giving, but yet taking time to breathe in your own air. With that being said, I love breastfeeding. However, there are moments when I feel exhausted from nursing and dare I say it... OVER TOUCHED.  And like most, I feel as if PEOPLE should know when I am feeling overwhelmed. And THEY should just know when I feel spent and literally drained. They should use their mind reading powers to know that a burrito and an air hug is the only affection that I can handle at times, because I may be touched out!!!  However, truth is... no one will ALWAYS know these things. As much as I can say that my husband, children, or my friends know me, they certainly are not mind readers. I'll even venture to say that ever so often family, friends, loved ones may know that you are at your limits and still ask of you. They are human with human moments and human needs as well. So where does that leave us. Where does that leave us when we are burned out, sleep deprived, and our mental and emotional state is teetering between Rosie the Riveter and a complete hot crazy mess? We give ourselves permission.  We give ourselves permission to say no, not right now; or that doesn't work for me at the moment. We give ourselves permission to voice our innermost feelings of "Hey, I love you. But I need a moment. I feel touched out". We give ourselves permission, because the world keeps turning. People keep needing... and sometimes, YOU are the only one who is going to stop and think about YOU. It is what it is. Remember to recharge today. Turn on 'your' oxygen tank... BREATHE your own air... Preserve Self.

 

The Hallway

Paige, Singer/ Songwriter. 

I've often been one to wonder when people say they want to know you, see ALL of who you are, do they have the slightest clue as to what they're really asking? Often times we ask this of loved ones, frankly, with no idea of the magnitude of the request and upon such revealing are not equipped to handle what we see.  For most of my life I felt as if I was in competition with who I truly am and the idea of what others assume I must be- whether hero or villain or not part of the story at all. As much as I longed to be seen, I also found a strange comfort in these presumptions. They became a hiding place. I reasoned that whomever others made me out to be was far more acceptable and less disappointing than who I actually was.  If they saw all the scars, all the pain, and knew all the secrets, I so desperately and meticulously kept hidden in my darkest places, would anyone still care enough to know me beyond that or would these unfortunate happenings of my life become the moniker by which I am now solely defined? 

I was always a "good girl" growing up - I had a bit of a smart mouth... well, let's be honest I still do- but I wasn't a kid you had to worry about getting into anything too racy. I had a Christian upbringing with not one not two, but three pastors in the family. I have two of the world's greatest parents (seriously, they're amazing!) who love the absolute mess out of me and did nothing but build me up, support my dreams, and shower me with unconditional love. Yet, somewhere down the road, thoughts of unworthiness and not being enough slowly began to stake their claim and take up full-time, permanent residence in my mind. It started with the everyday, run of the mill self- degradation. Speaking things over myself like, "I'm ugly," "My hair isn't straight enough or long enough," "I'm too tall," and "I'm fat" (this bad boy still likes to hang around from time to time). One might say, this is just normal stuff young girls struggle with, but it's like I received this starter kit for insecurity and with every new subscription the damage was deeper and deeper and harder to recover. 

I wouldn't say I was boy crazy when I was younger. I mean, I had my fair share of crushes, but I was such a tomboy back then that the fellas usually saw me as one of the guys rather than an actual girl. I was, however, and still am the BIGGEST daddy's girl you'll ever meet. My dad has been and will always be my hero. He taught me everything from how to hoop to how to spot a no good punk (as he likes to call them, lol) from a mile away. He gave me my love for music. He taught me to be strong, to be daring, to dream recklessly, and to not give a **** what other people think about me. Well, he can't get all the credit because my ridiculously bombastic momma was right there showing me how to do all the above with dignity and class. Coming from such deep love I often ruminate on how I would eventually drift so far and become so unaware of that love. What was the seed and at what moment was it planted?

As I got older, I couldn't find any value in myself, so I placed it in the hands of others- particularly boyfriends. I had developed this amazing ability of finding the worst absolute option for me and then convincing myself that based on how much they changed and loved me, in response to my naive, unwavering love for them, it would show once and for all that I am valuable- I am worth something. Problem with this theory is that 1). It sucked and 2). IT NEVER WORKED. In fact, I would always end up worse off than I started. I got to a place where I felt so broken and so desperate to feel whole. This desperation caused me to look for completion and validation just about everywhere except the right places. Poor judgment calls and compromise were all too familiar.  I became unrecognizable to myself or maybe this is who I just am, I would question. All in all I hadn't been too kind to myself, but I wasn't a total lost cause. Then came the decision that changed me forever. 

The day I found out I was pregnant all I remember is that I felt frozen. I hadn't been feeling well for awhile and thought maybe I had some kind of stomach virus so I finally went one day to the college clinic to get checked out. I thought it was just a matter of getting some fluids, an antibiotic and then I'm good. Boy, did I totally miss that by a long shot. It was like a scene out of a movie, when life is happening around the main character but they're stuck in slow motion. Yep, that was me. I know the doctor was talking because her lips were moving, but I couldn't hear a word. Hundreds of millions of thoughts must of been running through my mind at the same time. "How did this happen?" "This doctor is all wrong," "this can't be happening to me," "God is punishing me," "I'm not this girl." It felt as if every thought in my brain was screaming at me then suddenly silenced by one sentence, "here are your options should you decide to terminate." Terminate, what does she mean terminate? Never did I think I would be in this predicament, but I was so sure that, if by chance I was, there wouldn't be any other choice but to keep the baby.  Nonetheless, here I was barely 18, scared out of my mind and all alone with a haunting whisper of one word playing over and over... Terminate.

I sat in the waiting room, for what felt like days. I kept imagining myself getting up, busting through the doors and sprinting out of there, but every time I opened my eyes I was reminded I had not been so brave. They called my name and led me down, what I like to call, "the hallway of the conflicted." Never had I so clearly been at war with my mind and heart before. My mind was muddied with the opinionated voices of the obligatory counselor, who had no problem reiterating 77 times how young I was and that I had my whole future ahead of me so don't ruin it...the one friend I had confided in by default because I needed someone to drive me home, who pretty much shared the same views as my poor man's Dr. Phil...AND the 50% partner of this grand mess who was very adamant that I was doing this all on purpose and any other option would destroy his life. Every now and then I would hear the faint cry of my heart pleading with me to just walk away. Reassuring me that as hard and scary as it all appears, God is with me and won't let me drown. The cries weren't loud enough and, In the end, I denied my heart, went against everything I believed in and made a fear-driven choice that, 12 years later, I still live with everyday. 

The years following were pretty tough to say the least. I didn't take what I did lightly and I carried it as my own personal scarlet letter. I wore shame and guilt like some sort of twisted prize. Not many knew of what I'd been through. It's not necessarily the best conversation piece and, honestly, I couldn't handle seeing the potential disappointment and maybe even disgust on the faces of people I love. But don't worry, I judged myself more than enough for all of them. I did this until one day, years later, locked in my room, crying my eyes out and praying hysterically I realized I needed to stop punishing myself. I had convinced myself I was so undeserving of love and forgiveness that I accepted with arms wide open any all hardships and heartbreaks. Then here comes God, in the midst of my darkest moments, swooping in with what felt like a blanket of grace covering me with the very love and acceptance I had been longing for all along, telling me that I am not the sum of my mistakes. I am more than my failures and misdeeds. Thus began the work of putting back together this broken vessel. I had to go back to the beginning and face every insecurity that had taken ownership of my spirit. The road has been a long one and sure as hell ain't been easy, but I wouldn't be the woman I am today without it. I may be a portrait of flaws, but I am His masterpiece. In this truth is where I have found my hope. Now I can, wholly, be seen.