Five Star's 320th Great Blog Roundup Is Brought to You By Beverly Jenkins
This week's Five Star roundup is brought to you by a confrontation of one's own fatphobia, a temporary daughter, mortification, lessons learned about living with anxiety, white shame and the importance of revealing white histories, the freedom found in ageing, a truth behind body love, getting crabbier by the day, working towards mental health, and Beverly Jenkins:
Call it a self-fulfilling prophecy, but when I noticed my body beginning to change, I was convinced that my day of reckoning had come. I could be mentally healthy, sure, but in return, the universe was going to issue me a new challenge.
It was a low-key evening, but I wanted to make time for it because these are probably my last two weeks with Dafna. She is my foster daughter, and in two weeks she will probably be reunited with her mom. This is good news for Dafna and for her mom — they love each other so much, and I know her mom is committed to taking really good care of her — but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to being heartbroken.
I find some incidents impossible to forget.
I get a lot of emails from readers about anxiety – many are experiencing it for the first time and are really frightened, so I thought I would put together some things I’ve learned that have been very helpful for me.
[It’s] unfortunate because of a massive internet hack we are in this particular place discussing your ancestral past. It’s horrible that your private matters were exposed because of something beyond your control. That’s untenable in any situation, but we need to address something right quick… this slavery thing. You were [embarrassed], and that’s reasonable given the situation and the circumstances that produced it. But Ben Affleck, take it from a Black guy; with a platform like yours, don’t you dare be embarrassed to come from an ancestor who held enslaved people. Because… We need to know.
It took me forty-some years on this earth to shed the top layer of worry that cast a shadow longer than any shadow my physical self might have cast.
I’d love to blame our culture. The one who glorifies the flat belly as the mecca of what is sexy on a woman. And hey, if you have one, good on you. But blaming our culture isn’t what this post is about. This goes so much deeper. At least for me.
i can faintly remember a time when everything wasn't so goddamn irritating. i was young once. i didn't always require 27 advil with a vicodin chaser to get through social events. one time in 2001 i went to a de la soul show that started at 11pm! I USED TO BE COOL. it used to not make me want to dig my eyeballs out of their sockets to be pressed butts to nuts with other drunk, sweaty concertgoers.
In less than 12 hours, an anesthesiologist will place me under IV sedation. A doctor will attach an electrode near my temple. He will turn the dial on a machine and intentionally flood my head with enough electrical current to raise my brain above its seizure level. I will be allowed to seize for about 30 seconds. The electrodes will be detached, I’ll recover from the anesthesia, and leave.
And because you are a fan of finding good, new writing online: