Tonight is a special night. It marks a few firsts here at VirginFingertips. If you've ever noticed, I've never done any guest features and I hardly quote anybody. I wanted to maintain a certain integrity here letting you know that whatever was here was 100% mine and inherently sincere. Much of the content is deep and heavy usually coming from a vulnerable and painful place. But we are making room for joy now. We are letting the sun shine through this window. I am honored and humbled to bring you Shadavia - @daveybaby.
I used to be an angry writer. Every keyboard stroke was a reminder of the emotional pain I had experienced in this short life. As long as there was something to be mad about, there was something to write about. I used to think I had all the answers. And when there was nothing left to answer, I’d set off in search of more questions. Because I knew my readers were waiting for my next sentence to find comfort in. Waiting for me to come to their rescue and speak out against the social injustices they’ve faced. In relationships, friendships, from family, at work. I used to write for the people. Covering topics that I thought they’d want to hear about, not necessarily the ones I felt at the very end of my Virgin Fingertips. And that’s when I realized that when you do things for others, you often lose yourself. You and 7 other people end up writing about the same thing. Different structure, same content. Different experiences, same lessons. I stepped out of my writer stilettos and slipped on my reader flats. Ashamed at what I saw in my posts through a different set of lens. Boring. Another temporary blogger, not writer. Another “voice of the people” without a definitive voice. It frustrated me. I sat in front of the computer for months trying to figure out how I ended up there. Without motivation, without a new blog piece to be proud of, without talent. And then it hit me. My blog posts, my life, and social media in general all produced one question: Where is the happiness?
Is negativity the only thing people can relate to? Are our most painful experiences or unwise decisions the only commonalities between us? With everyone around you screaming “F**k the world”, it’s hard to realize that you have the world in your hands. All of this potential and undiscovered talent waiting for you to acknowledge it, but you choose to focus on what’s wrong with you. So instead of seeking to be relatable, I sought out to be happy. Ridding my life of all negativity and taking back the privacy that an active social life can often rob you of. Thank yous to the supportive people and F yous to the destructive people. Hello to a healthier lifestyle and farewell to the lazy one. And right as I reached the point where I was most proud of my progress, something extraordinary happened. Right at the point where I acknowledged my fingers not as tools to produce good writing but as the finished product of God’s tools, someone else acknowledged them too. Along with my smile. I’m almost certain he tells jokes just so he can see it. And here I am. Happy. Not because I needed someone. But because I got everything I needed when I thought I could do without it. I gained my ability to write back when I no longer considered myself a writer. I reclaimed a smaller figure when I realized I didn’t need an extra serving (lol but not really). I found a partner in crime when I thought I could do it all solo. I discovered that I could have it all if only I could appreciate some. After all, simply having all the pieces to a puzzle is not what makes it complete. You need an end goal (the picture) and a gameplan (figuring out exactly how you’re going to put the puzzle together).
And that my friends, explains where I’ve been. Pursuing my own happiness. Floating somewhere on Cloud 9. In a state of euphoria. You’re probably thinking this should have been a journal entry, huh? Perhaps. I’d rather call it an ode. An ode to happiness. A joyful melody dedicated to those who believe in me when I often don’t, who challenge me when I get too comfortable, and who inspire me when the well runs dry. Although I’ve only written a few posts, the number of supporters I’ve gotten from them extremely humbles me. I thank each and every one of you who have been kind enough to share a post, courageous and intellectual enough to disagree with a post, and friendly enough to hold a conversation out with me – a complete stranger – in public. You make this new, unfamiliar journey into writerdom an exciting and comfortable one. I can’t promise that I’ll always tell you what you want to hear, but I can absolutely guarantee that I’ll tell you how I feel.
That has been my hardest lesson to date. They say that when you start to tell the truth, you’ll realize the truth is that you’re a writer. In the words of the good man Hov, “What you about to witness is my thoughts. Just my thoughts man. Right or wrong. Just what I was feeling at the time.” I can promise you 100% truth, but please don’t take them as 100% fact if you haven’t lived the life that I have. Relate (or don’t) to my experiences, but never adopt my practices if you haven’t walked a mile in my shoes. Don’t try this at home, folks.
I think I’ve said enough here. I’m excited about the material to come, and I hope you are too. In addition to guest posts, I’ll have something of my own for you to support. Thanks to T Lloyd for the opportunity to share my thoughts on her blog and for being such an amazing friend. Thanks to Viral Status for allowing me to jumpstart my writing career when I was so afraid that no one would listen to me. Thanks to the CLP for giving me an additional platform to write and supporting me on my professional journey daily.
And a big thank you goes to the man, the mysterious legend, and the inspiration behind this post. Happy 25th Birthday to my boyfriend. I appreciate you for pushing me to be better everyday. For not trying to simply change my life, but for giving me the support to make changes myself. Thank you.