Dear Queen
Dear Queen:
I know that last year made you question your worth in self, in love, and in all relationships. Often, you felt that you were barely making it and that "they" (people, places, things) were celebrating life with quenchless zeal while you were on the sidelines barely able to breathe, barely able to get out of bed, and barely able to make sense of the day. As you force yourself to endure waking up, depression gripping your very soul, you made a choice to put your feet on the ground, you bellowed the last deep cry. You shake yourself, walking to the bathroom with feet of bricks, to shower, then put on clothes as you cover your tear-stained cheeks with makeup and a smile. Queen, you hide your hurts because you feel the mandate of the ancestors to champion causes for others. You don't give yourself a break due to people needing you to be there, in place, without a misstep or change in character.
Queen, right here, this moment, know that you are phenomenal and broken.
Phenomenal and broken, you question. Yes, phenomenal and broken. Queen, this oxymoron does exist. You are the living embodiment of it. Your value has not diminished. You have not stopped operating in the spirit of excellence, but when you get behind closed doors, your mortality hits you like a ton a cement blocks and no one but God can hear your whispers of help because the pain is too great to handle, let alone being able to endure the savage pain of loss, betrayal, guilt, and shame. These demons haunt you as you can barely manage to eat, sleep, gossip with a friend, or even post on social media. As tears run down your face, you seek solace from knowing that tomorrow may be a better day.
Queen, it will.
In your brokenness, know that your worth does not change. Queen, let's look at this example, a $100 bill is a note for tender - money. It is our way of buying the things we need. Before I go to the store, I decide to crumple up the $100 bill. The value of the bill does not change, it is still a $100 bill. If I take the same crumpled bill, and throw it on the ground, I will still have a crumpled up $100 bill ready to use in its condition. If I decided to dig my heels into that same crumpled up, dirty bill, I will still have a $100 bill ready to use with dents and imprints from being stepped on. When I flattened out the bill and smooth it for use, the bill has all of the wrinkles of misuse but never loses its worth. It is still a 100-dollar bill.
Queen, once you come of the seasons of change, your value has not diminished but actually increased.
Queen, you hold genuine lessons that you would not have ordinarily gathered on a simple excursion of this journey called life. That my dear makes you and your experiences phenomenal. You are uniquely equipped to help someone in that same situation once you heal. You are an expert to the pain and an expert to how you have gotten out or over the hurt or pain. Queen, if you are reading this, know that today is a great day of joy! Queen, you withstood the crumpling, the stepping on, the abuse, the manipulation, the misuse, the hate, and the fear that have brought you to this point of greatness.
Pop your collar Queen, you are undeniably and unquestionably ready to fly. You, my dear, are phenomenal and no longer broken.
Dear Queen is a series dedicated to letters from women written for themselves and other women. Have a "Dear Queen" letter? We want to read it! E-mail your letters to submissions@xonecole.com. Subject: 'Dear Queen'
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