Come See About Me
Written by Tannika Nikeya

Sometimes, the best wisdom comes from women who have walked through the valley and are still learning to keep their eyes on the hills. Welcome to our new series: Valley Hills Apartments!

“I’ve been crying
‘Cause I’m lonely (For you)
Smiles have all turned to tears
But tears won’t wash away the fears
That you’re never ever gonna return
To ease the fire that within me burns…”

“Come see about me”

My name is Amani and I just moved into Valley Hill Apartments. My mother used to play music every Saturday. It motivated her through mopping the floors, washing our laundry, and cooking Sunday dinner. But the song she sang along to the loudest was “Come See About Me” by the Supremes. I often wondered if she reminisced about good times with my dad, but the times I witnessed were not so good.

Today, that song popped up in my mind and I began to sing it just as loud as she once did. I sat in my oversized lounge chair with my cup of tea looking out of the window of my small apartment with unpacked boxes.

I find myself in a new place, in a new city, but I am still lost. I am tired. I am carrying mountains of debt. I owe myself exponentially. I am stressed. I have health issues for which my doctor apathetically prescribed pills I can’t even pronounce. And in fact, I need more medicine, the kind that only one doctor can prescribe. I sip my tea, breathing heavily through my nostrils reflecting on how no one wants to help me or even let me rest on their shoulders. But after all, no one knew I was hurting, mad, disappointed, in need. I always keep my mouth shut and regurgitate, “I’m fine.”

I made myself invisible so others could be seen, time after time. After all, I am to be seen and not heard, but somehow my toxic trait said, “go a little deeper and not be seen at all.” After all, you don’t want to be perceived as prideful. So, I refused help—thinking they would like me more.

I live in purpose and I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished, but I realized some of my achievements were starting to adorn my worth like a heavy gold chain around my neck. Then, one day, an old lady reminded me that my worth isn’t predicated upon what I do or the titles I bear. She reminded me that I am already valuable–fearfully and wonderfully made. I inhale, then I exhale.

I glance once more around my apartment. I may not have it all figured out. Sometimes I feel overwhelmed and tired because I keep trying to lift loads all on my own, without wisdom and in my own strength. And sometimes I think I have to keep moving without resting, feeling and being. I instinctively pick up my cell phone. “Call Lina,” I command. I need to check on my sister.

“Are you okay?” I ask. We end our conversation with a plan to meet up for lunch at a restaurant with our favorite food we enjoyed as little girls. I hang up the phone and tap the reverse button in the camera, flipping it to face me.

And I can hear the woman clearly as she stares back at me through the lens.

“Come see about me,” she sings with all her heart.

“I hear you just as clear as I hear the rain tapping on my window,” I compassionately inform her.

With hope and with clarity, I respond further: “I see you. I will love you as I love others. I will not neglect you. This next season is yours.”

Sis, stop trying to pour from an empty cup. It’s okay to see about you too. When you do, you show up to your God-given arenas more authentic, more capable, more grateful, and fully present. 

Video Snippet: https://youtube.com/shorts/3-L3b65pdIQ?si=xsRQNJqjhaO4057w

Thank you for coming along this new series and stay tuned for next week’s story or poem!