There For Me

I have been in my house 15 years this year and I am blessed with some great neighbors that really look out for me.  I try to be a good neighbor to them, too.  (If I hear anything suspect I climb in my tub to peek out of my bathroom window.)  Two weeks ago, the daughter of the family passed away and it was a devastating loss that, even though I was not close to her at all, I felt as well.  Such a young girl.  28 is just too young…

In her program, she had the best pictures of her growing up and of her family.  I was taken aback looking at pictures of her mother.  You see, her mother is now wheelchair-bound and bed-ridden because she has been stricken by MS; she is bent and I’m not sure if she can move on her own.  But on these pictures she is healthy and beautiful…and healthy…and robust…and healthy.  It was amazing to see considering I’ve only seen her in a wheelchair and declining. 

Looking at her, knowing of her condition, makes me wonder sometimes, who would care for me if I ever declined so drastically?  Better question: who would be there if I got sick or was in serious need, period.

Is that something all single people question, or is it just me?  (For some reason, I don’t think it’s just me.)  It’s hard to imagine being alone or to have to count on people who may or may not be available at the time I’d need them.  (Kenny, Mama, and Daddy don’t live here and would have to put their lives on hold to come here and help me.  And they are old and have health issues themselves. Friends have their own families and lives.)  Even asking for help…admitting that I needed help is not easy for me.  Accepting help might even be harder.  My issues, my issues…. When I think like this, I get very sad about my singleness.

Marvin Sapp (my gospel music boyfriend) said in his relationship book (paraphrase): “just because you are single doesn’t mean you are unwanted”.

Hmmm…Really?  Feels like it, sir.  Really feels like it.  Unwanted and uncared for, even.

I realized recently that this is why I was hurt when me and old boy stopped dealing.  I felt wanted.  I felt cared for.  I felt that I would STAY wanted and cared for.  I felt that there would be a constant – not fickle – connection, full of compassion and free from judgment.  And then…POW!   Disconnection.  Devastation.

I felt “if not you, then who?”  Who would want me?  Who would need me?  Who would protect me?  Who would support me?  Who would have my back?  Who would be kind to me?  Who would hold me?  Who would love me?  Who would let me love them?  Fuck it, let’s be honest.  Who would marry me and be the father of my children?  I was lost…completely at a loss, with no answers, with no hope.  I thought I was out of possibility.  I thought I had lost my last and final option.

I would have no one to be there in the sickness as well as the health.  I would have no one that I automatically be there if I needed them, without me having to ask.  That makes me sad.  And scared.

Method of Conception - F U Paul Ryan

Paul Ryan is an idiot.  He’s not the only idiot but he’s a big one.  As we are being bombarded by foolery about rape, incest, conception, and abortion, we get another bit of nonsense from Paul Ryan, the man who may well become the VP of the United States of America.

In an interview (I don’t know who the interview was with but I did hear this with my own two ears), Paul Ryan was asked about abortion.  He stated that he, in fact, was a strong pro-lifer.  Blah, blah, blah.  Interviewer asked if a woman should be required to have the child conceived during a rape and this jackass said something like “rape, or any other method of conception….”  Huh?  ‘Scuze me, sir.  Did you just equate rape with a “method of conception”?  No, really?  Do you think RAPE – a complete mental and physical violation of a woman with long-lasting mental, physical, and emotional impacts – is a “method of conception”? 

Do you REALLY think that RAPE – an act where a woman is taken against her will and forced to perform sexual acts with someone she either does not want to perform these acts with or does not want to perform these acts with at the time – is a “method of conception”? 

Do you SERIOUSLY think that RAPE – where a woman may be beaten, tied up, and gagged, have her body torn from the inside, and that just be her physical scars, for a man to assert his power – is a “method of conception”?

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me if you believe that RAPE – an act where a woman is made to feel powerless, vulnerable, abused, small, unworthy of respect and decency; an act that causes her to question her complicity – did I lead him on? Was my skirt too short? Did I make too much eye contact?  Was I too dismissive? – You believe that THIS act is a “method of conception”?

I’ve never been raped, praise God, but I have enough sense to know that there is nothing “method of conception” about it.  SEX is a “method of conception”.  Preferably loving sex, sex that is intentional in the creation of a life, in conception.  But RAPE is not about SEX.  It is about power.  It is about control.  It is about hatred.  If a rape victim does not get help she becomes infected with the hatred that her attacker carried.

If I wasn’t a Christian woman I would wish that someone would “method of conception” Paul Ryan but karma is a bitch and I have too much going on in my life right now to let more bullshit flow into it because I was acting like the devil.  But I will say this, in some unladylike language: Fuck you Paul Ryan.  Fuck you and your monkey.  Fuck you from every woman that has ever been violated.  Fuck you from every woman that knows a woman that has been violated.  Fuck you from every woman that is vulnerable (that’s all of us, you jackass).  Fuck you from every man that has had to love a violated woman back to mental and emotional health.  Fuck you from every man that has had to suffer the consequences of another man’s crime.  Matter of fact, just fuck you, period.  And the horse you rode in on.

Sex Made Me Ugly

Sex made me ugly.  Really.  It really made me ugly.  How, you might ask?  Well, here is the story.

I have had many droughts in my life.  Times when I haven’t dated anybody, much less slept with anybody.  (Lawd, I’m so glad my daddy doesn’t know I write this blog!)  2010, and maybe even some of 2009, was such a time of remarkable dryness so I decided I would not take birth control pills because of my migraines.  (Estrogen drops cause migraines.)  Well, I met somebody…and I wanted to get a little bit.  So I had to get back on the pill and change my hormonal make-up again.  No big deal, right?  Wrong.

My face broke out so bad I looked like I was 13 again.  My jaw line looked like I had a beard of pimples.  And when the pimples went away (for a minute and a half…because they came back…and back) they left black spots.  Not “hyper pigmentation”. 101 Dalmatian spots.  On my forehead too.  I looked like a damn leopard. 

And then that joker broke up with me.  Left me heartbroken and UGLY as shit. 

This was early 2011 and I’m still fighting with this acne and these fucking leopard spots.

I got a facial a few weeks ago and was informed by the esthetician that our face was basically a map of our body.  The forehead showed what was going on in our bowels.  (If we had acne our bowels were not clear; we were constipated.  There is truth there but I won’t go into my tummy troubles.)  The jaw line and chin showed what was going on with our hormones.  I thought back.  Got dammit!  It was those fucking birth control pills I started taking to get some from my boo in 2010 that caused all these cursed problems.  Made me ugly as shit.  Cost me about $1000 in chemical peels, foundation, concealer, prescriptions, and facial products to try to fix…and I’m still not “fixed”.

So now you know how sex made me ugly.  If I would have said no to giving up the booty I wouldn’t be so ugly or broke.

One Is The Loneliest Number

I’m in a weird place.  I’ve been alone for a long time but right now I am actually lonely.

Isn’t that a sad word?  Lonely is a word that makes me think of someone completely alone, with no one in her life.  Completely alone, with no one to call in good times or bad.  Completely alone, with no one to visit or invite over.  I’m not completely alone but I do sometimes feel like I am imposing when I call unless it is great news, being mindful of family time and children’s bedtimes, or feeling funny when I want to visit but haven’t been invited over.  I feel like I’m in the way and I worry about overstaying my welcome.  (To be fair, that is my own issue because I don’t like it when people come to my house without calling first so I would never do that to anybody else AND I have open invitations to folks’ homes that I most like to visit.  I just don’t exercise the option.)

I feel like I’m the only person without someone in their lives.  Of course that is being dramatic because, although I have no one romantically, I am surrounded by friends and associates.  I want someone in my life romantically and I want a family.  I don’t want to be the odd-man-out.  And I often (more often than not, honestly) feel like the odd-man-out.  Like one of these kids is doing his own thing…and that kid is me.  I feel unattached, that I have to stretch real hard to reach out to touch someone who might be able to grasp my hand in a time when I’m in need of support.  Even those people who are more than willing and able to be there as strong support for me. 

People don’t understand why I don’t like to do long distance relationships but I need access to the man I’m dating.  I need a hand to hold, a chest to lay on, a literal shoulder to lean on, a smile to see…on a random Tuesday.  On a bad day.  On the day I get a promotion.  On the day I have a fight with a friend.  On a day when my legs are on fire from spin class and I need to be rubbed the right way.  (Sorry I just heard a little Johnny Gill this afternoon.)  I needed that hand, chest, shoulder, smile, and rub this week when it was revealed to me that someone I thought was a friend – a good friend – actually wished me GONE from our joint space.  And I feel very vulnerable right now and I need some validation and confirmation that it is okay to feel hurt but that I am okay.

I’m questioning myself in a lot of ways right now.  Questioning my motives for moves that I am considering and things I am avoiding.  Moves like actually picking up and moving from Atlanta…and I’ve been here for most of 21 years…and I’m deathly afraid of change.  Not sure if I want to leave my company because of personal dynamics and the fact that I no longer feel emotionally safe or if I am just ready to make a career change after 14 years.  Not sure if I want to move back to my hometown because at least I will have family around or if I really think it is a place I can be happy and successful and thrive.  I will be the odd-man-out and unattached in a way there too but I can move around enough to avoid being sad…I think…I hope.  At least I know I can trust my family to have my back and I wouldn’t feel funny going to my Daddy’s house when I felt like looking at him.  And I’d be close to Mama…and I have a key to her house so… LOL!!  Have been thinking about adopting a baby but not sure I want to be a single mother.  No, I KNOW I don’t want to be a single mother, but I’m wondering if this is on my mind lately because I want to have someone in my life so I’d no longer be lonely.  Someone that is MINE.  (If that is not selfish I don’t know what is.)

I’m rambling but that is how my mind is going.  Random and rambling.  That’s why I haven’t posted in a while.  My mind is jumbled.  And yes, I have been taking my meds.

What Is For Me.......?

A few days ago, I was at dinner with my trainer and she basically told me to give it up – my hopes and dreams of having kids – because I am too old.  There was a whole conversation going on so, no, it wasn’t random.  Now, of course I was cool and prayed on the inside and smiled on the outside.  That’s the right thing to do right?  Pray and declare that I am going to have what is for me?  I really, REALLY believe that a husband and children is for me…but what the hell do I KNOW, really?

I know that I don’t KNOW shit.

I keep saying – and BELIEVING – that God knows the desires of my heart and that if I am faithful He will give me what I desire.  I’m trying to be faithful.  I really am…TRYING.  But am I succeeding? Am I doing the right thing? (Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways, acknowledge Him and He will direct your path.  Proverbs 3: 5-6)

I know that I cannot EARN God’s favor and grace.  It’s just that – favor and grace – freely given, not because of anything I can or cannot achieve.

Right?

You know, I want a husband.  I talk a lot about a baby but that is because that is really more time-dependent as I am 39 and definitely not something I cannot do without some male, um, energy.  A man is necessary to have a baby but I want a man who will be FOR ME.  A good father, yes, but a GOOD HUSBAND, first and foremost.

But what if by waiting for a husband I will miss out on having a husband AND a baby?

I really do not want to be a single mother…on purpose.  I don’t think it will be fair to a child or even, hell, to me.  I don’t think I’m enough to be mother and father.  That’s not self-doubt or self-deprecation.  That’s the truth.  Now, one day I may feel differently but as of today, I want to do it with a husband.  I want a family.

Why won’t God reveal His will to me?  Why won’t He tell me what is for me?  Oh, probably because He doesn’t answer to me?  (Yeah, that’s pretty much it.)

It’s so hard not to get anxious and afraid, no matter what I say.  Most days I’m good but sometimes I get a little wobbly in my confidence.  (Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.  And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.  Philippians 4:6-7)

Times like this I really want to call my First Lady.  She would know what to say, tell me what to read, help me to pray.  She understands because she has what I want.  I know it’s not perfect but check this out:  In church, Pastor said that he prayed that God equipped him with the kind of love that she needed.  (I would have cried if I didn’t kind of know the teenage I was sitting next to. I did get a little misty eyed but I held it in because I’m not a punk.)  I hope God is equipping the man He has for me with the kind of love that I need…and that He is equipping me with the kind of love that he needs.   I pray God is equipping me with all I need to be a Proverbs 31 WIFE.  I’m ready to do my part.

Sister Wives, Sister Girls

I’m reading a book called “Mighty and Strong” and the underlying theme is polygamy.  I also watch Sister Wives on TLC.  That show is also about polygamy.  They are interesting in that they give a peek into a lifestyle that most of us would never experience because it is purely (supposedly) religious doctrine and, let’s be honest, would never go for even if it was not a religious concept.

Me, myself, personally – all three of us – say hell to the naw, Bobby, to the lifestyle that includes:

·        Sharing my husband in ALL ways (yes, you and I ARE on the same page…lies and confusion)

·        Sharing MY money, not just with my husband and our kids, but with my sister wives and their kids  (On Sister Wives, I get the impression that all the money goes into one pot and it gets distributed however regardless of who put in on it… and some of them don’t…lies and confusion)

·        Not having access to my husband unless it is my turn (ha! More lies and confusion)

·        My children not having access to their father unless it is our turn (I will say this.  If they live on a compound, like the ones we see on TV, this is probably not an issue, but on Sister Wives right now they live in separate houses so the father doesn’t see his kids every day…that’s more than lies and confusion; that’s that BS.)

·        Having to live with how many other wives he marries (On Sister Wives they supposedly help choose or cosign on the new wife but I’m not sure if that is 1. True or 2. How all of the husbands do it…again…lies and confusion)

·        Being “sealed” to a man on earth and in the afterlife (that is the religious part so I won’t comment)

So you see a lot of polygamy, for ME, is lies and confusion.

But isn’t polygamy just man-sharing, and don’t we have an epidemic of THAT in our society?  Sharing whether we know or not. Seeing him only on Monday, Wednesday and Thursday when you know he has a lot more free time.  Having a baby with him but only getting a few dollars and diapers but still some excuses for why he’s not over there changing them.  Letting him stay with you because he doesn’t have anywhere to say (really so he won’t be able to have any other women around…don’t lie).  Wondering why his phone is always on airplane mode when he’s with you (I heard that on Steve Harvey the other day!  I didn’t know people did that!!).  Letting him get away with having a side piece or (*gasp*choke*cough*) BEING the side piece.  Giving him 6 months to get rid of all his other women (heard that on Steve Harvey too!  Where they do that at?!?!?).  Rationalizing that it’s better to have a piece of a man than no man. 

Or lying to yourself that nothing is going on.

Oh yes, I’m telling on myself with some of these.  I’m naïve sometimes and I really want to think the best of people, even to my own detriment.  If you’ve read enough of these you should have picked up on that.

All right, confessions over.  Now what are we going to do about it?  Don’t ask me.  I just said I was a punk!  I need advice too.  What I promise myself, though, is that if a dude is not doing his best – or what I think his best should be – I’m calling him out.  And I’m making some stuff clear from the rip, especially that I want to TALK more than text.  (Yall know the dude who only texted me got the boot, right?)  So we’ll see.  As usual, I’ll keep you posted.

Note: I was told that this is one-sided but I figure that since this is my blog I can say what I want. What say you?

Reflection of Me

A woman chooses a man that reflects how she feels about herself. 

A man treats a woman how he feels about himself.

That’s some good Word right there.  Yeah, I got that from Pastor Jones this morning.  (Why does that man ALWAYS kick me in the face?  Because he loves me?)  All I could do was nod my head and admit that he was talking me.  Yes, indeed, he was talking to me.

You see, you can tell how I feel about me by the dude I was dating at the time.  When I am feeling good about me, I will date a man that meets my requirements, in other words, meets most of my list, treats me right, and receives my affection without misusing me.  When I feel like crap, that dude can treat me like crap and I will ask what I am doing wrong.  And have the audacity to cry the ugly cry when he breaks it off with me.  Side note: Why do I always let dudes break up with me, even knowing that I “been needed” to break up with them…and then have my heart broken over it?  (I am real educated but I guess my schooling, as my grandmother calls it, does not apply to my love life.)

I have to get that part of me together.  My self-esteem that is.  I need to feel good about me all day every day.  So many people see me as great (LOL) that I SHOULD, even if I’m just living off the glow of their shine, but there are times when all I see are the negatives…bad skin, gut that is out of control (in my opinion), hair that needs some perm in the back and some scissors and clippers STAT…etc.  But if I just sat down and really INSIDE myself I’d see my true self…and I’m good.  Better than good.  Actually better than great.  (All right I need to quit before I get stupid!) 

The truth is that I’m blessed internally and externally, intrinsically and extrinsically.  I have a blessed reflection.  I reflect God-is-good-ness.  I reflect grace.  I reflect mercy.  I reflect internal beauty.  I reflect external cuteness (LOL).  I reflect humor.  I reflect hope.  I reflect anticipation.  I reflect self-reflection.  I reflect try-my-best-ness.  I reflect make-up-word-ness (LOL).  Now I just need to find the man who compliments, complements, and reflects me.  And that man has to love himself so much that he can’t do anything BUT love me.