Is this my villain origin story?

Bad experiences change me in different ways.

Bad experiences change me in different ways.

Let me start out by saying I am completely humbled and overwhelmed by the outpouring of support I have gotten from my last post. It has been shared everywhere, and to date, it is the most popular post on this baby newsletter. I thank y’all, truly, for seeing me, hearing me, understanding me, and feeling me. 

The evolution of Harvey Dent

For all intents and purposes, Harvey Dent was truly a good guy. As the district attorney in Gotham City, he made it his mission to save the city from the criminal element overrunning its streets. He cared about the people in his hometown, and he wanted to do right by them. He went to work and did his job—well, I might add. He loved his girlfriend. As played by Aaron Eckhart, he was quite the looker as well. He was also known as the “White Knight,” the polar opposite of Batman’s “Dark Knight.”

All of that changed in one night, however. After he and his girlfriend Rachel Dawes were kidnapped by crooked cop Michael Wuertz (at the behest of mobster Sal Maroni), they are both taken to separate warehouses full of drums of gasoline and tied up to be used as bait for Batman, who will have to make the unfortunate choice on which one of them should be rescued. 

Although Batman has every intention of saving Rachel, who he also loves, he is led astray by a last minute trick and instead of going to the warehouse where Rachel is, he ends up at the one Harvey is in. He saves Harvey, but not before the gas drums explode and half of Harvey’s face gets burnt off. Oh, and before Batman drags Harvey out, Harvey gets to hear Rachel’s last words and knows she is going to die. 

If anyone was going to transform into the evil villain Two-Face, it was Harvey Dent. His need for justice and his need for revenge were two sides of the same coin. I believe deep down he wanted to be good, but the way his life worked out, that need to get back at everyone who had caused him to lose something was as much of a driving force as his need to do the right thing. 

We all have a breaking point, right?

The stages of grief

I have experienced the various stages of grief before, so I am not new to this experience. What is new for me this time, however, is a different kind of self-awareness that has me doing checks throughout the different stages to make sure I am processing the situation rationally through each step. 

I am, after all, a Leo — a July Leo to be exact, born on the second day of the sign. My sun, moon, and rising are all in Leo, and if you don’t know what that means, just understand that I am ruled by the sun, and like it, I can be warm and inviting like the perfect summer day or I can scorch you alive like the flames from hell. It all depends on where I am with you. 

I believe during this cycle, I have passed through the anger phase more than a few times. I think I am out of it, and then I’m right back to angry again. 

Only in this particular instance, I am angry at a situation and not a person. It’s a situation that I don’t have control over. It’s a situation that is unpredictable. It’s a situation that exists outside of me and my life, yet it has a direct impact on me, and I am powerless to do anything about it other than wait and see what happens. 

It’s the waiting that sends me barreling into the depression stage over and over again. It’s the uncertainty that hangs over me like a weighted depression blanket, except instead of my normal 25 pound weighted blanket that gently helps me sleep at night, this one is 250 pounds, and it’s sitting right on my chest. 

I can’t breathe. 

Generally during the anger phase, I am ready to flip everything over. I will go scorched earth on some shit in a second, but I am not there this time. 

This time, I am leaning in to being vulnerable. This time, I am leaning in to hope. This time, I am working hard to be patient, to gain understanding, to remain vigilant about my actions as I wait for this storm to pass. 

The fact that all of this happened right as Mercury was coming out of retrograde is not lost on me. There’s something to be said for shedding old habits when a retrograde like the one we just had happens. I feel that happening too. 

Leaning in to my inner soft Black girl

My default in grief is to try to press through it as quickly as possible. Much like depression, ain’t nobody got time for that shit. We gotta keep living. We gotta keep moving. We gotta keep going. 

I didn’t want to do that this time. 

I wanted to be sad. I wanted to cry. I wanted to be soft and grieve and think and process and go through all the emotions I needed to go through, and I wanted to do this on my own time without trying to adhere to some imaginary timetable of my own design that dictates how long I am allowed to feel the things I feel. 

Fuck all of that noise. We off that. 

So I’ve been sad. I’m still sad. I still cry. I went to the movies to see I Wanna Dance With Somebody on Sunday at the matinee, and I cried way more than that movie required simply because it was easy to get weepy over little things, and I allowed myself to do it. I didn’t care who was watching. 

There have been moments of anger. I have written things and said things to myself and confessed them to my best friend—things that in the moment feel so raw and real, but things I recognize as hurt upon reflection. 

My feelings are hurt. My hope is hurt. My idealism is hurt. My happiness is hurt. My love is hurt. I’m hurt. He’s hurt. They’re hurt. We’re hurt. Everything fucking hurts, and I honestly don’t think I will feel better until all these things don’t hurt anymore. 

For now though? This shit hurts. 

As I said before, I’m not rushing myself through this depressive cycle, nor am I rushing myself through this period of grief. I’m taking baby steps through both. 

Yesterday was the first day I felt like I could truly handle writing business and get things done, so hurray for the small victories. 

Prior to that, I was extra gentle with myself. I have slept in every single day and only gotten out of bed when I felt like it. I went to the movies on Thursday night. Friday morning I slept in and then woke up and took a long, hot shower. 

I got a Brazilian, and it had been a while since my last one, so I was back to full bundles on the coochie, and when I tell you I felt every single individual hair as it was ripped out of my pussoir? Please believe me. 

That part wasn’t so gentle, but the rest of the day was. I got a manicure and pedicure, got my eyebrows threaded (and bitch, they look good AF right now), took the dog to get pampered and ate Church’s chicken for dinner because I hadn’t eaten all day, and I could afford to blow the calories, fats and carbs. 

I’ve decided to keep my phone on “do not disturb” indefinitely, and I have gained so much peace from that. I check my phone when I want to, and when I don’t, I don’t. 

Overall, I’m choosing peace over drama, turmoil, and stress, and I fucking love that for me. 

Is this my villain origin story? 

Normally when something bad happens, the change in me is villainous. Somebody or something is going to get it, and it ain’t gonna be nice. 

I don’t feel like that this time. 

My feelings are hurt, but they are still there. My hope is hurt, but it is still there. My idealism is hurt, but it is still there. My happiness is hurt, but it is still there. My love is hurt, but it is still there. I’m hurt, but I am still here. He’s hurt, but he’s still here. They’re hurt, but they are still there. We’re hurt but we are still here. Everything fucking hurts, but everything is still fucking here, and it is with that knowledge that I lean completely in to this vulnerability, this uncertainty, this hope.

I’m focused on being patient. I’m learning to be more understanding. I am keeping my actions in check, and I am standing in the middle of this storm with my cute pink umbrella, waiting for it to pass.  

Bad experiences change me in different ways. 

This time, I think those changes are for the better. 

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Miscellaneous notes:

• L’Oreal cited the last newsletter in her piece for Fortune, “Depression shows up differently in Black women—and that could lead to underdiagnosis. Here are the major signs”

• I think we need to turn up the volume on discussions about depression and its impacts and effects on Black women. We don’t talk about that enough, and we should.

• Harvey Dent/Batman/Two-Face

• Some say there are 5 stages of grief. Some say there are 7. Both are explained pretty well right here.

• If you are confused about what Mercury retrograde is or if you are vaguely familiar and need a refresher, check this out.

• I know what all my astrological houses are because I have run my birth chart so many times before. You can do yours here.

• I saw M3GAN Thursday, and I highly recommend it. I will probably go see it again, because it was that good.