How often do you stand in front of a crowd of people, shaking and crying, trying to explain how your crayon drawing relates to an insecurity you need to release, and at the end of the whole ordeal, take a deep breath and say, “I can’t wait to do that again!”?
Only at a Certified 10 workshop, homie!
I tweeted “we in here” this weekend, just before Back 2 Basics began to make my grand Twitter announcement that, well, I was in there. I was excited. After last session in April, I could not wait to see what Yetti of Yetti Says had cooked up for us. This time, Certified 10’s Back 2 Basics focused on cleaning out our mental closets.
I go to one of two places when I hear the phrase “cleaning out the closet”:
1. Summer 2002, when 10 year old Ro was obsessed with Eminem and knew every word to “Cleanin’ Out My Closet.” (Where’s my snare? I have no snare in my headphones.)
2. My demon cage aka the mental closet. The demons are quite vicious, but they usually stay quiet and well-behaved as long as I tiptoe past the door and make no attempt to open it.
Honestly, you had to be there. Then you’d understand what I mean when I say I did a body scan and a yellow bubble birthed a dresser from the back of my neck. You’d understand why I can’t forget about that amazing french toast. You’d understand why I stood in Yetti’s closet (ironically), as I gathered my things to leave, and said, “I have no idea how I’m going to write my event recap. No idea.” You’d understand why I didn’t hear her response to my lie because you’d understand the true translation of my statement: “I have no idea how I’m going to write my event recap without mentioning the tears.”
At Back 2 Basics, we used crayons to illustrate an insecurity from the backs of our mental closets that we need to release. I was asked to share and, despite my being moved to tears by Yetti’s presentation moments before, I took a deep breath and decided I was good. I could do this.
I was in paralyzing tears by my second sentence.
I would be a liar if I said I didn’t urge the floor beneath me to open up and swallow me whole. But when it didn’t, and I finally allowed myself to look up to see other people crying with me, I forgave the floor and took my seat.
Here’s the thing about Certified 10 events: buying a Certified 10 ticket is like signing a silent agreement, swearing to be a part of the solid, supportive, foundation of C10 women. You’re leasing yourself out to be a loving participant. You’re relinquishing any judgmental tendencies and opting to be an encouraging, accepting person. Period. It’s understood as soon as you click ‘confirm’.
It’s viable for me to say that I always take something home from C10 workshops. Yes, there are the cutesy gift boxes and swag bags, and fierce jars. But there’s something more. More than the fluffy french toast I will not stop raving about. More than the Twitter followers that I joked about in my introduction. After C10 workshops, I get to keep things like new coping techniques, a new appreciation for someone, an altered thought pattern.
All my biased love for Yetti aside, I have to say that Certified 10 is the business! It is always a good time. There is always something to learn and always someone to love and support who will do the same in return.
As I write this, I am on the bus back to DC, trying to stifle the urge to throw my 10’s up and scream my love for Certified 10, a la Eddie Murphy in Coming to America. Which leads me to my only critique: Certified 10 needs a hand sign. Something to help me recognize another Certified 10 in the streets. So when I see an undeniably gorgeous, self-lovin’, phenomenally made, audaciously confident young woman, I can throw my sign up and be like, “Oh you 10’in!? Me too!” Yetti, get your people on that, please.