Hold Up, Wait a Minute!
Savannah, slow down! "It's Me, Im Savannah"
I keep saying it, but just in case you forgot, I am about to be 30! That calls for reflection and notation, a decade review if you will. As I look back over my last ten years I have to be honest with myself: I was fueled and moved by anxiety. I would not describe myself as a patient person before September 2024. On some days, I could be more gracious and graceful. But overall, patience was the thorn in the side of my twenties. Anxiety was a catalyst for my actions, creations, retreats, and connection efforts—no wonder some things could never feel right.
In September I made a faith-required decision; therefore, my patience has been tested as the church says. I have evidence of God as my supporter, lifting me beyond the limits of my imagination, and even though God was always a present help in times of trouble, I only recently reveled in that comfort.
Before switching to Cognitive Behavioral Therapy in 2022, I was trapped in negative thought loop spirals. No matter how many days I called my “talk” therapist to vent about muddled feelings over my career and failed relationships, I could not find a way out of the funk. I plateaued. No amount of journaling or talking could help rewire mental pathways. I needed additional help, and I sought out CBT with a wonderful Black Lady Therapist. My new therapist helped me develop routines to maintain my equilibrium, recognize false thought narratives, and reframe my anxious affirmations. One thing she championed was stopping to pause. Rumination is a slippery slope for an internal processor like me. I’d muse a negative thought from mustard to oak tree and then fall into a 3-day depression about ugly loneliness. Once CBT set in, I’d remember to stop, take a deep breath, and remember the truth.
I know you’re like Sal get to the point, but I am making my way there. Being able to connect my anxiety to my impatience, or vice-versa, was eye-opening. And, it is a recent revelation. As I looked back over my life as a Black Woman, as a creative entrepreneur, as an artist, and as a young person living in a non-Southern city, I could not accept ease, although my life is ordained as easy. Blessed and highly favored many say. Multiple examples of God ushering me forward exist. Despite crying fits on the floor and lonesome nights, I continued to live a life of ease with grace on each of my shoulders. And yet, I couldn’t and didn’t accept all of that until I made this recent decision. I believed that I needed to struggle to win the race. But I do not need to struggle. I only need to wait a minute.
Once I decided, firmly, where I was going, all the pieces molded together quickly. My faith was and still is, on fire about the decision I made in September, and all has been working out. I just needed to do the work and hold on a second. And, this has happened before. In 2020 when I decided to quit my job as a copywriter at AKIRA to go full-time as a wardrobe stylist, I received an offer to style a Vice/Fuse TV* show the next day. Effortlessness is easy to forget.
In 2020 after becoming a real business owner, working freelancer, styling a TV show, working with Joe Fresh Goods, Chicago’s Apotheosis of Streetwear Success, and being booked monthly, I secured my first solo apartment after years of dealing with roommates. I had made it somewhere, becoming somebody. I needed my own space to be.
I moved into a sweet two-bedroom in Bridgeport, complete with drafty windows and cracks for mice, eager to transform my space into an oasis that represented my style, aesthetic, and taste. I had BIG IDEAS until I researched that furniture was expensive as FU*K. Facebook Marketplace did not dawn on me at the time, I mostly shopped in big box chain stores. I panicked into anxiety mode due to discomfort with empty space, hurriedly ordering all of this furniture; rather than use my stylist sourcing skills to find the best, most stylish option, I settled for cheap, misaligned versions of the furniture of my dreams.
When the crappy pieces were delivered, I fell into multiple levels of disappointment: I spilled buckets of money only to be stuck with a shitty futon, a too-small tv stand, some weird tables from Wayfair, and an internal belief that I made bad decisions, and had bad taste - all because I moved from anxiety and impatience. Decoration seemed URGENT, I needed to prove my interior decorating skills TODAY. “My style is so cool and tailored - I MUST have an equally stylish home,” I felt. However, I forgot that my style took years to properly curate. I stumbled publicly over my style, wrestling with fit, color, shape, and texture over and over again until I found my sweet spot. How could my apartment be any different?
And this was my first solo apartment.
And the supply chain system was off-par.
And did I need all my furniture immediately?
And who needed to see my place?
So, I sold the furniture bought out of anxiety, and I bought more. I liked the replacements, and the replacements were not the objects of my dreams. So, I sold the replacement furniture bought out of anxiety, and I bought more. I liked the second replacements, and they were not the objects of my dreams, again. So this time, I sold everything. And now, I am getting ready to leave the Midwest, and my new apartment is fertile soil. I am determined to enjoy the empty space. And to just wait a minute.
The final piece to my September decision puzzle nuzzled into place this past Thursday, helping me understand time, place, and when they are perfectly aligned. Patience showed herself to me once again, and this time, I could see her, accept her, and commune. Haste is an old buddy I can bury in the sands of Lake Street Beach, right next to all the wasted furniture I’ve purchased in pursuit of….? What exactly?
Anyway.
I created a mood board to help me stay on track with the vision for my new apartment.
This is the vibe I hoped to capture in my first apartment with a few stylistic tweaks like hard, contrasting lines bouncing against organic-shaped metals and Scandanavian-style objects. I’d like to have fewer “shelves” and more racks designed with flair.
I always wanted my apartment to feel like a D’Angelo song in Mercury. Like soul music inside of an electric guitar. Below is an image found on Pinterest with sexy chocolates and mustard yellows. This collage feels like Soul to me. I will use my board as a base for my place, and the bottom board as inspiration for accents like pillows, mirrors, lamps, and rugs.
With patience and knowing that what is for me is mine, all the pieces will come together with pleasant ease.
I am looking forward to the easy road ahead.
A SONG FOR YOU
Until next time <3
SAL