How Do I Increase My Capacity to Be Worshipped by Myself?
**How Do I Increase My Capacity to Be Worshipped by Myself?**
Garlic, green peppers, flour, sugar, salt. On Sundays, I choose to draw myself closer to myself, closer to the sun, the trees, closer to God. Weekdays feel like they pull me far from these things—with late nights, early mornings, stillness, rushing, patience, and the awareness of my impermanence. But Sunday, I linger. Today, I went to a local bakery for a biscuit, a strange craving since I've never much loved biscuits. Perhaps the ancestors nudged me. My grandmother used to make doughboy—soft, wide loaves left on the table under a cloth, with dishes and prayers. We’d come, receive, and eat. Today, I missed her bread.
Walking through Northampton, I bit, licked, and crunched my biscuit from a brown paper bag. I watched people stroll, some holding hands with lovers they’d been arguing with all week, others walking quietly beside themselves. My tooth, already shaky and sore, split right in two. I thought I could just chew the softer bits to avoid the pain, but it didn’t work.
As a child, my visits to the dentist felt fraught. In Flatbush, a tall, white, Russian dentist pulled my teeth as though I was immune to pain. It was wrong, feeling unseen, especially somewhere meant to preserve my smile. When I arrived once in high school with an afro, he glanced at me, tools in hand, and said I looked like Angela Davis. My heart lifted until he told me she was evil, a communist, and untrustworthy, before administering the anesthetic and drilling into my tooth. That same man would later make advances toward my mother. For years, I avoided dentists, not only because of him, but because so many made me feel ashamed of my teeth, criticizing my commitment to care. How cruel it is that a world that has stripped us of so much—our community, land, and innate sense of divinity—then turns and blames us for our brokenness. I was shamed for centuries of compounded work to make Black people feel worthless, for my severe depression and dissociation, for battles I was too tired to fight.
In a world that insists you’re only valuable if you’re useful, I began to believe I had no use, that I was disposable. At Smith, I cried in my room, listening to *New Balance* by Jhené Aiko, wondering how life had become this way, how each movement or even hearing my name could bring flashbacks. My priorities shrank to getting work done, stepping outside once a day, and eating. Self-care—bathing, brushing, dressing with care—felt distant. Today, I still struggle on days before, during, and after I bleed. My back aches, my shoulders tighten, and I try to stay in my body instead of dissociating every time something hurts. This world has left us few choices but to descend into our "sunken places," as they strip away our inner knowing and shame us into believing that we failed ourselves. But the fight was never ours to begin with.
When you return to yourself, wherever you last left it, I hope you greet yourself with kindness. The flickering light you left on, the last candle you burned—even if that flame was you. May you remember that you are, and always have been, loved. No broken tooth or worn-down joint could ever change that. Nothing could make you unworthy in the eyes of the source that created you.
Let’s redefine self-worship. It’s not only the oils, incense, butters, walks, or altars. Self-worship is more than ritual—it’s a life of choices that show care for yourself in ways that may be unseen but are deeply sacred.
- Going to the dentist is self-worship
- Scheduling a check-up is self-worship
- Flossing at night is self-worship
- Dropping your shoulders and unclenching your jaw is self-worship
- Paying your bills is self-worship
- Hugging yourself tightly at night is self-worship
- Saying no is self-worship
- Leaving spaces that no longer hold love is self-worship
- Recognizing that no one else is coming to save you is self-worship
- Dancing under the night sky is self-worship
- Wearing soft, cozy clothes is self-worship
- Writing, reading, or gargling salt is self-worship
- Folding your laundry and cleaning your room is self-worship
- Sitting in stillness is self-worship
- Taking a bath or apologizing to yourself is self-worship
- Pursuing your dreams with everything in you is self-worship
- Sharing your work with the world is self-worship
- Covering your head before sleep or a crowded space is self-worship
- Choosing not to explain your choices is self-worship
Every choice to nurture, respect, and be present with yourself is an act of devotion. Worship begins and ends with the choices we make to honor our own existence, and in doing so, we become more whole.
