Out of the mouths of babes

Sometimes I question how developed I am.

On paper, I have a good head on my shoulders, though not without faults. I work hard. People trust me to get things done, and I care deeply (to a fault sometimes) for others. But I have been consistently unsuccessful at one things: forgiving myself.

Instead, I try to work the guilt out of me, doggedly pursuing a way to make things right, even though I know things just are as they are with no chance to change. And I wholly accept the responsibility for influencing change, even if there is the slimmest to none chance of that ever even happening. In essence, I drive myself crazy. One accusation that will always be false is that I don't take responsibility for my actions. If anything, I take on too much instead of just letting things be because I'm a fixer. It's my greatest strength and my biggest weakness. And it is something that I must manage in order to actually live.

I had to share a hard truth with my son, who also has the 'give it to me straight' attitude that I have. I didn't want to tell him to let something go...to erase the kind of hope that a kid holds onto before he becomes a cynical adult like his me. I just didn't want to take that away from him, but I had to for our own good. No parent wants to see their child hurt, but I think that in order to truly raise them the best you can, you just have to be there to hold their hand when they hurt, because it's an inevitable and redundant occurrence.

It broke my heart to do it. He saw that it broke my heart to tell him something he didn't want to hear. I felt like I had failed at helping him with something, despite having helped him with so many other things in his life. And when I could actually look him in the eyes and not really break down, he held my gaze, put his hand on my shoulder and in a wobbly voice said, 'Ma, it's ok. I'm fine. No matter what, I'd rather be here than not be here so I'm ok.' And with that, I felt like I had been absolved of all of my fuck ups for the past 13 years.

I wish I could say that I learned how to forgive myself all on my own, but I did not. My son did that for me, for the both of us, and there aren't enough words to express the gratitude I have for him showing me the way towards forgiving myself and moving on.

Survive and Thrive

It's been a while since I last wrote a meaningful post (that last one was a rant), and for good reason.  I could not focus, and could barely function with all that had been going on in my world, and the last thing I wanted to do was write posts that were forced and lack passion. I refuse to lie to the 3 people out there who probably read this blog, and most of all, I refuse to lie to myself (I'd like to think my actions embody the words "keeping it real").

With that, I feel comfortable and awake enough to share that I have just started my second week of being officially unemployed, and while I'm sure I haven't gone through "IT" yet ("IT" meaning 'fit, shit, hit..."etc), it really has taken me this past week to process the changes that comes along with being one of the legions of unemployed people here in America.

First, I have to express to the universe how grateful I am to have been afforded the opportunity to work and pay my bills for the past few years, especially being a "permalance" worker (permanent-temp). I was able to keep my marketing and project management skills sharp, as well as work with a lot of really good people. On the flip side, despite my current circumstance, I would be lying if I didn't admit that I am happy to no longer be working with that small number of people who - per a book that my mother once gave me - are spiritual vampires. While there are many lessons with getting through such rough circumstances (I mean, really, what's up with grown people bullying other grown people? Why haven't these issues been worked out in one's 20's????), I know that my heart, my head, and my son are very happy that I am no longer subjected to the daily confines of a very toxic work environment.

So. I don't have a job. I have a child. He starts school in a little over a month. He's growing like a weed. I get child support occasionally (I won't go further on this because I enjoy maintaining a normal blood pressure level), I have bills. My son can EAT. I need to keep the internet service on (that door to door job search thing ain't working in the Bronx - or at least not for any legal job I can think of!). I have asthma so I need to keep the AC on. Mostly everyone else I know is working during the day. What's a (older) girl to do?

Get it together. And more pointedly, don't screw around with the time I've been given.

If I really 'Luv my Texture' - love the layers that make me who I am, then the last thing I need to do is spend a significant amount of time moping. This doesn't mean that I won't have my moments (oh, I sure did yesterday), but I know that I still HAVE TO get it and make it happen.

What is "it" might you ask (or not ask... I'm gonna tell you anyway)?

"It" is:
1. Recharge my physical and emotional self
2. Reassess my goals, making plans, and carrying them out
3. Establish and stick to a new budget
4. Adjust old and setting new healthy habits
5. Believe in myself, and this journey that I am on
6. Balance all that is on my plate
7. Enjoy life
8. Be GRATEFUL
9. Strengthen my spiritual commitments

I had goals outside of the office. But I was too physically and emotionally spent to give anything to those desires once I left the office. And now, that website that I've been meaning to build, that script that I've been meaning to tweak, those new skills I've been meaning to acquire... well, since I need my internet service to assist in my job search, I might as well add these things to the to do list as well (and actually finish them).

It's scary. Really scary. And it's not like I haven't been in this situation before, but there's something about being older, and the world knowing you're older, and whether they have the belief that you can and will bounce back from something like this. Luckily, I feel like I have no choice in bouncing back even stronger and higher, because I refuse to give up. I'm too stubborn for that.

And with that, here are a couple of activities I do to keep myself physically and emotionally aligned, in an effort to get through this new stage in my life as best as possible:

• Get enough sleep
• Eat healthy, 95% of the time (I had Cheetos this weekend, and I will not have them for another week!  Same thing with drinking - that's the treat for getting through a productive work week)
• Exercise, every morning
• Shower, dress, and fix my hair (simple, but needs to be said)
• Turn off distractions while I'm working (no g-chat, no checking the Facebook page, no chatting on the phone unless it has to do with 'my business'
• Schedule everything (I reference my old college class schedule as inspiration)
• Schedule breaks
• Limit daily job hunting time  and find at least 2 positions to apply to (if possible)
• Get outside for some fresh air
• Relax (as best as possible)
• Don't be petrified to spend money (I'm usually like this, but even more so now. I already know I can grip a penny, so I need to not be so hard on myself with it comes to something like 'buying groceries' or investing in a new business prospect - while being uber-budget conscious as well, of course)

Those are just a few things that I am practicing at this time.
I'm sure things won't be as easy as writing a list, but I intend to do my best to keep my head above water and make it happen! (And write more on my blog!)

(Sigh) Dating...

...or should I say "not" dating. Ugh. It's just such a chore for me because I know I'm "different" and I have my issues, as noted in my aforementioned blog entries, but damn! Really? No amount of hypnotism and self reflection will make me understand why it's so damn hard for me.

The nastiest people, funkiest ho's (hey, ho's need love too), nastiest, ungrateful, unsympathetic people out there have someone, or at least have options, and my corny ass tries to flip things by turning "no one will date me" into, "well, I'm taking a dating hiatus" just to make myself feel better, lol!

It's funny, but it's sad at the same time. While I have acquired more confidence than I had even 10 years ago, I'm still not there, and I hate to admit (but I will) that the opinions of others do, in some way, feed into my timid approach to this dating thing.

Thing is, I look at things too practically. I'm so concerned (overwhelmed) with how I'm going to pay for my 10 year old's college years that I've all but abandoned the idea of the possibility of having more children. It's not a stupid thing, but it is a fear that is damn near crippling because I know I wont be finish paying my student loans until I'm a Grandma, and I don't want that for my boy. Then there's also the fact that I am now in the late 30s category, and let's say I meet Mr. "he doesn't get on my nerves all the time" and allow myself to get impregnated (on purpose this time) - that's not something that I'm going to rush into! And if I do take my time, I'll be a woman in her 50s with a young child. WTF? The people in my family never look their age - despite how I feel, I know I don't look my age, and my sis who is 2 years behind me practically looks like a fetus, but regardless of how I look, if I make it to my 50s, I will have the body of someone in their damn 50s, and I don't want to go to no play dates at my current "parent-age" - what I look like, being the age of someone's Grandma, with my 5 year old, trying to relate to the young moms and their spa dates? lololol!

So, I have a couple of options:

• Date an older man (with kids of his own who are probably older than my youngest sibling - my youngest sibling is 15 by the way)
• Become a young cougar
• Try harder with the online dating thing (this is some exhausting shit! No one likes me- except for the fake West African scammers all names David - and they haven't even heard my voice yet, lol!)
• Wear more revealing clothes (back to the older man thing, because the men my age don't even see me)
• Get a nose job and liposuction, a weave, bleach my skin, trade in my Honda Civic for a Lexus, and shop at Macys and above only (no more $10 store) and trick some dude into liking something that isn't even a representation of who or what I am -- too much freaking work

I have to laugh. I have to, because I'm too old for this kind of thing to be keeping me up at night, and we all know I'm getting older so I need my sleep!

I would just love for someone to tell me that being myself - my practical, frugal, crazy, funny, serious, tough, loving, hardworking self - is actually enough, because it's either that, or make it clap on the pole so that I can pay these student loans off, make sure my son doesn't acquire student loans himself, and have someone tell me he loves me - despite his drunken stupor.

And so that ends my being a smart ass today :)

In My Head

After taking the week to recover from my first long distance (almost 3 miles is long for me) run in over 20 years, I ran again, and in interesting weather as well (weather that went from constant rain to a freaking snow storm in October!).

Anyway, I decided that Michael Jackson would accompany on the day's journey, and it was a perfect choice (let me tell you, there is something about listening to "Man in the Mirror" when you're jogging and in a zone).

I realized something around mile 2. Life is like a race, and while I do want to get to a destination, where I end up may not necessarily be what I thought I wanted or needed, and that the journey is equally important in evolving into hopefully a better and happier person. In my head, while favoring my right thigh muscle, in the beginning I kept saying over and over to myself that "I have to do 3 miles, I have to do 3 miles" and then finally that chant turned into "I have to keep good form, I have to keep good form" because let's face it, what's the point of getting to any destination if you don't do it in good form, or with regard to real life experiences - with no class.

I may not end up rich, I may not end up with a husband, or more children or a new job, or whatever, but it hit me that living my life with as much class as I can, and getting through my experiences - yes, with goals in mind, but being present in the moment as well - is just as important as crossing that finish line.

Old Settler

I just read an article on MadameNoire that made me want to chime in on the topic of women settling, or more to the point: for women to stop settling.

I'll try not to be a pessimist about this, because I still have hope for many things - but sometimes, not settling is hard to do for some things.  I do agree, however, that settling is not a good look at all.

For instance, in my experience with "relationships" it has been proven that whenever I settled, I have suffered many an emotional and physical ramifications.  And I always knew immediately "this shit happened because my ass settled."  If anything, I am more than honest with myself, especially when I screw up.

It's a great article, especially when one needs a bit of a pep talk to rise out of the dumps of despair.  Maybe I'll even get it through my thick head one day, lol!

Mean Old People

One does not earn respect just for living longer than the rest of us.

My neighbor who lives in the apartment above me, and who is either 93 or 97 (it's keep changing every time I talk to her, but I guess after 90, it really doesn't matter), and who has lived in this building for 34 or 37 years (that also changes every time I speak with her), is a freaking noise pest.

She is going deaf. I am not, but apparently I am on the losing team and am forced to listen to news television until about 4am.  Oh, let me not forget how she keeps moving what I believe to be a wooden chair back and forth, several times throughout the night - and when I say "night" I mean from 11pm up until 4am most times.

You see, the first time I confronted her about the noise, she gave me the "I'm an old lady, I don't mean any harm" BS. She even gave me a hug and said she wanted to be friends.  I told her "Ma'am, I understand that you have some hearing issues, but you have to understand that I have a child who goes to school, and I go to work, and we both have to wake up really early in the morning, so we need sleep.

And do you think that worked? Hell no!

I was on the phone one night, around 11pm, and the person I was talking to could hear the sound of the 7th floor lady dragging this chair back and forth.  The other night, after being kept up late but the dancing chair, and then woken up early by the blasting TV, I slipped a not under her door.  The first line went like this: I am TIRED.  She got the note almost immediately, and turned that shit down.  Then, about an hour later, buzzed my ringer, not to apologize, but to tell me again about how long she's lived in this building, how old she may be, and how she has hearing problems in one of her ears (which means the other fucking ear is working fine, right?) When I brought up the furniture dragging, she swore "that's not me."  "So now I'm imagining things?" I asked.  She didn't reply directly to that, just said "she doesn't have a chair". Yeah-freaking-right! I am not deaf, and I know a freaking dragging chair when I hear one.  She also claims "I go to bed by 10:00, 10:30 the latest."  Actually, it seems like she wakes up around that time.  And now I sit here, after 11pm, listening as my walls vibrate from the sound blasting from her TV, so this is what I'ma do.  File a 311 noise complaint online.  Leave her a note in the morning - shit, my night is ending shitty, why not start hers letting her know (and if anyone wonders, hell no I don't feel bad - I've been going through over a year of this shit, complaining to management and the super, so I'm doing good on my, not "threats" but promises).

I share all of this to say "look lady, bravo on being 94 or 97 years old - whichever it is that day - and if you need someone to put in on some headphones just ask, but I cannot respect someone trying to play the "old person' card when they're being an ass.  And I peeped her game when I reminded her that we'd had this conversation before. Wanna know what happened? That soft, naive, "I'm an old person, let me do what I want' look on her face dropped, the bass went up in her voice, and one of her eyebrows went up (and I know allllll about the eyebrow honey. When my eyebrow goes up it means I'm about to cut someone), so it is officially war!  Chaaarrrrge!

Daddy for hire?

I am 36 years old, and a single parent to a 10 year old boy (pardon me, 10 and a half), and for the first time in my life, I'm sit here about to type the words that I have never even considered, to share with whoever is out there with insomnia who ended up on this page after initially looking for a cake recipe of youtube: I wish I had a father.

I hate to admit that the relationship of who should be the first man in your life affects your relationships with other people, and with men in particular, but it unfortunately does.  I thought it was good that I was this tough girl, representing the boogie down Bronx in my suit, raising a lovely boy and maneuvering a daily routine that, if I saw it written down on paper, would not understand how it's done. I thought that mean-mugging through the tough neighborhood where my son's school is housed just so no one would even think about messing with me, teaching my boy how to box, hell, raising my boy without his dad or a father figure - I thought "it's ok, it's ok".  It really isn't, and that's not to say that it can't be done, but I wonder when will the cycle end?

I love men, but men have not ever really loved me, including my own father.  One thing I need to explain about my father is that I did not meet him until I was about 2 years old because according to a letter that I found, he wasn't leaving college to "see some kid."  And then when he finally did "come home," it was fucking torture.  I don't know if many women have withstood lectures with a father who had notes - that he gave to me afterward - titled "3 Things that are Wrong with You" (on yellow post-it notes, sectioned via Roman numerals).  And then there was the time when he "disowned" me - apparently I was hopeless because I was "so much like my mother" but then a year later he tries to beat me like a dude because he thought I didn't say "hi" to him when I passed him in a stairwell...

Look, I don't write all of this to do a poor me routine, it is what it is.  The thing that upsets me is that even though I know that's how he was and that not all men are like him, I somehow have managed to live a life that has attracted men who are either unavailable or abusive emotionally (not physically!  One ex pushed me ONE TIME, and after I pushed his ass back I ended that, stat!).  So I guess I should really be mad at myself for not seeking better, not doing better.  And now here I am, 36, never married (which isn't an issue), never been loved, and now wants to curl up into the arms of a Daddy who will lie to me and say everything is going to be all right because I feel like a failure and I imagine that the hug of a Daddy would make it all feel even a little bit better.

Clearly, this is my issue, as many other women without their own Daddies have gone on to have love and very fulfilling lives, so I have to wonder, what is wrong with me?  Did he - my own Daddy - see the thing that is wrong with me decades before I was able to?  Does he have any advice (as I recall back when I was 13, apparently my problems were 1-Lack of love for family, 2-Lack of love for culture, and 3-Lack of compassion, and while I have to sincerely disagree, it must be something, right?).

Interestingly, I'm not one of these hateful hens out there who wants everyone to be miserable with her.  I love seeing the people I care about in love. I am just so freaking happy for them because the idea of not feeling loved in a romantic, or even parental way, is so painful, I honestly do not wish that on anyone. I love seeing people happy, just 'cause.

Well, hopefully in a year, a month, a week, a day - I can look back at this late night case of verbal diarrhea and laugh at my melodramatic self, but right now, I really am in search of an answer.  And I really would like a Daddy, even at my old age!

Me Time: For Moms

There seems to be a bit of a revolution happening around here.  All of a sudden, it appears that some moms and going to the local store by themselves.  Taking walks in the parks by themselves.  Even - gasp!  - going to a restaurant or the movies, you guessed it... by themselves!  And to that I say, It's about freaking time!"

Maybe I should have prefaced this entry by stating that this message is not for negligent moms - you know, the ones who tell their kids good night on Friday and then don't come back until Sunday morning (trust, I saw this kind of behavior with my own eyes when I was a child - not my mom, but an "aunt" - sorry, I wasn't having anyone think my mom was the one gone all weekend - nope, not her... anyway...).

So, like I was saying, it seems some of us moms out there are starting to realize that we aren't confined to elderly homes just yet, and that we should be able to take just a little time to enjoy doing things for ourselves that don't include making sure someone has their snack, or a change of clothes just in case a little one can't hold it, or going to see boring ass cartoon movies (or what I like to call "paying to take a nap in an uncomfortable chair and cold theater").  Or how about just being able to space out as you walk down the street, with the hope that you don't space out so much that you get hit by a vehicle, or by someone walking and texting!  The point is, some of us moms are reclaiming "Me Time!"

Now, there are different types of "me time."  There's the kind where you lock yourself in the bathroom and cry like Cochise (Cooley High reference) died all over again because your kid asked you for the 10th time why can't he sleep in your bed anymore (and that broke the camel's back).  Then there's that me time that includes locking the kids in their room and doing what we all did before we gave birth to them - vacuum in the nude blasting U2's Greatest Hits while sipping on a glass of something alcoholic. Or, just taking a walk somewhere, with no timetable, no real reason, except to just breath and be.

I decided, now that my son is in middle school and is forced to travel damn near 3 miles home everyday on public transportation, that maybe this was the real beginning of the cutting of the strings just a bit (I stress that because at the end of the day my child is still a child, he just isn't in diapers and doesn't ride his bike with training wheels anymore).  So at first I found myself doing things like going to the supermarket around the corner alone.  Then it was 'going to the hair supply store just 10 blocks north' alone.  Then it was 'I have to run to Riverdale to pick something up' (a 5 minute drive) alone, and just 2 weeks ago it was the "I'm going to see an adult (NOT porn) movie alone!'.  F.Y.I., I say Drive, starring Ryan Gosling, Albert Brooks, Carey Mulligan, Bryan Cranston, and Ron Perlman, and IT WAS AWESOME!  Both the movie, and the overall experience, despite the fact that my son calls me 20 minutes before the film ends to ask me when I'm coming home.

My sister happens to be doing the same thing now too with her kids.  Heck, the movie theater in her town is even closer to her than mine is.  And a friend of mine recently went to Ireland, leaving her kids with their father/ her husband, for a week and a half (forget the fact that they seemed a bit traumatized by the experience - they'll get over it - she looked great and refreshed!)

The point is, having children or a mate or both does not mean that we give up everything that made us who we were before these new factors came into our lives, because whether it's going to the movies, eating out once a month, taking an art class, window shopping for the hell of it, going to a street fair, going out dancing - all of those things made us who we were (and when we hopefully liked ourselves a lot.  If you didn't like yourself then, well, this isn't for you, no harm, no foul).  And the people who love us should support mommy "me time" because isn't what informed us of who we were in the early stages of our relationships - didn't that inform our personalities and what attracted them to us in the first place.  So moms everywhere, I beg you.  When your children are of an appropriate age, and when you are in a situation like me and many others who do not have physical support, when you can, give yourself the gift of "me time."  You'll love it.  And after your kids and/or man stop being mad at you, they'll love it too!

A word of Thanks

No BS – I’m grateful.

Today, I unconsciously spaced out while driving – although I did not know it at the time.  I did not see a street light at all, and even though I have driven on this particular street many times over the years, I did not see it.  It wasn’t until I drove through the intersection that my son told me what had happened, and I was so stunned that I’d done that.  For some reason I thought it was one of the streets in the area with a stop sign (leaving me with the right of way), but I was wrong, and even though the light did change to green when I was in the middle of the intersection, the point is that I ran a red light – and I was devastated at such absent-mindedness.

 

I sit here this morning after a week of ups and downs, but through it all I had maintained a relatively even temper.  Our trip to St. Thomas was cancelled because of Hurricane Irene, and I had to think of something quick (it’s not often that I get a week off).  My son is starting a new school and has to maneuver public transportation – which is something that’s new for the both of us. I had a bad reaction to Acetametaphen which scared the life out of me.  On the flip side, my son and I had a lovely few days away from the loudness of New York.  We did a lot of driving and talking and paddle boat riding and walking and just breathing a bit easier while not being overwhelmed by our standard routine.  And as I tucked my son in to his bed this evening I said to him, “Everything is going to be all right.” And I think I believe that.  And so I sit here, watching a marathon of the TV One series “Unsung,” getting a sneak peak into the lives – the successes and failures – of some famous folks, and I feel especially grateful. 

I’m grateful that I lived another day. Grateful my son lived another day.  Grateful that my son has worn more smiles on his face than I have seen in a long time.  I did my frugal shopping at DEALS, gifted my boy with a new bike (the child’s knees were hitting his elbows on the other one). Grateful that I ran into my son’s old babysitter in the park and talked with her for almost 2 hours. Grateful that it’s my niece’s 12^th birthday.  Grateful that my son spent over an hour on Skype with his cousins.  Grateful that my thighs are still sore from a workout that I did 2 days ago! Grateful that I am still inspired to write (note that I totally ignore all grammar rules on this blog). Grateful that despite a little emotional flare up today, I feel calm (for now). I’m just so damn grateful that I made it safely to the other side of that intersection, and no one was hurt.  Yeah, I’m starting to feel my age and I have some new pounds that I’d never seen before, my hair is temperamental, I getting more grays and my back hurts more than before, but I am grateful.

"Me" first, or "We" first?

There are those of us out there who have this kind of bad habit of putting others first too many times (maybe even all the time).  And that's a good thing, right?  To be a good friend always there and listening even when you're dead tired and wrestling with a pain that can be just as deep as the person you're being a steady rock for, right?  And then we hear it from our friends, family, maybe even co-workers sometimes when they cross that little imaginary line and decide to chime on on the supposed goings ons of our personal lives.  The "you need to take it easy" speech.

And yet, interestingly, the moment you actually put yourself first, it is those same people who take offense, or sometimes even become outwardly angry at you when a blue moon strikes and you assert yourself - against them.

Things that make you go "Hmm?"

Although I don't particularly enjoy upsetting anyone, if someone if upset with me because I didn't ask "how high" when they said "jump!", here's what I'm gonna do...

I'm gonna take a nap, hopefully get some good spirit and beauty rest, and I'll check you on the flip flop.

And if you're still mad, have fun with that - I'm 36 years old, and I got a life to live (hopefully a long one!)ha

I Luv My Texture, but....

... I need a break.  Seriously.  I'm about 2 seconds from cutting ALL THIS OFF.

It has been a pretty frustrating month whether it's my hair or my life, and with this heat of the summer about to reign its terror upon me, I cannot deal.

With the locks, for some reason the hair looks like it ain't growing, but I know that it is which means my ends are breaking off (I've noticed this the past 2+ weeks).  And, styling it just hasn't been fun for me. Also the shrinkage in this heat is killing me.  For a moment I thought about using all of these products to go the straight hair route for a minute, but in July? In New York? Not happening.

With the life, seems like life is a vampire and I'm the juiciest human around because it is sucking the life outta me.

So, what am I gonna do?

I'm gonna put some kinky twists up in my hair (I do them myself, so that says me buckets of money and my hairline - ya'll know what I mean!), and nourish my scalp back to health.

I'm gonna put the job hunt in full action mode.

I'm gonna stop eating these damn chocolate chip cookies on my table.

I'm gonna work out hard each day of this 3-day holiday weekend.

I'm gonna meditate like a mutha!

And I'm going to relax.
There's always going to be something to complain about or not be completely happy about, but at the end of the day I'm here. That's gotta count for something.  I think it does.

New season, New Style

Ok, I will admit straight up - whenever there is a new season, a new year, a new whatever... I declare that I'm going to reboot my life with terms like 'get my sexy back' 'get my grown-woman on' - stuff like that.  Well, I have barely tried, and totally failed, each and every time.  A lot of reason behind my failures is because, no matter what, I just don't see myself as a sexy woman.  I see myself as this chick, on the grind, tired, working 100% but getting 35%, used to being unfulfilled, but still on the grind because it's what I do.

If there is a choice between doing my nails, or doing some laundry - laundry getting done.  Styling hair, cooking a good dinner - I'm gonna cook a good dinner for my son.  Between getting pampered by professionals or saving (or using) the money for something else that might come up - I'm saving the money for what might come up.  I am stuck in a circle of 'everybody else but me,' but trust, I am trying my to  change my ways.

There have been little successes.  I have invested more time toward my health.  I take a boat load of medications and  supplements - many which I already had on hand - every day.  I think I feel a difference.  I also met with several doctors on different problems I'd been dealing and am in the process of trying to make things better.   And just recently I have entered the world of 'calorie counting' (shout out to MyFitnessPal), in with the hopes of controlling the results of my changing metabolism. So, I'm working on it. But I do know that at the end of the day, if I'm not happy in my heart, all of these changes made will be for nothing.  I figure, the fact that I haven't given up means I've already won.

The Aftermath

Sounds like a Dr. Dre album, right? lol!  Well, it is dammit!

I cut off the emotional fat I mentioned in a previous post.  I had no choice.  It was either go mad, or save myself, and when I did it, after I'd done it I felt a weight the size of a ton lifted off my back.

It's never fun to break the heart of someone you love, but what are you supposed to do when they keep stabbing you in yours?  Stand there and take it?  For decades?  What I have decided to do is wish everyone well and work on me, with the hope that in the future, when everyone is ready to acknowledge and address outstanding issues, there can be one big happy family.  If that day comes, great.  If not, I have have to live and preferably be happy in the process, so great either way.

Interestingly, for the first time in I think my entire life, I feel free to implement the kind of changes I know I've needed in my life for a long time, the only difference being that I don't feel the obligation to bring a whole gang along with me. I am a solo act when it comes to working on my sanity, happiness, quest for knowledge, peace, excitement and wholeness.  I'm getting older.  I want to get old.  I want to be around to see my son's many achievements... be a grandmother to his children... be a pillar in his time of need as an adult... to still say funny and raunchy things at times that will earn me the label "bawdy old broad!"  Whether I have financial success or success in my chosen artistic field - at the end of the day, before it all fades to black, I need to know that I made this a good run.  And so it begins (or "began" about two months ago), and I, therefore, offer a belated "On your mark...set...go!"

 Photo courtesy of the Digital Photography School

Self Preservation

I wrote the first draft of this post 2 months ago, and now finally have the guts, and the am free enough now, to share it: 

January, 2011
I have been contemplating something very heavy for the past couple of days, at least consciously (sub-consciously, I think this was something that I had wanted to do for a very long time but I didn't fully comprehend exactly what "this" was).

I learned a lot growing up, especially from my mother, and all of those things have shaped who I am today for better or for worse.  Growing up the oldest of seven... just remembering all that I did to "help out" exhausts me to this day.  I look at my son, who is about to turn 10 years old next month, and compare the responsibilities that he has versus what I had at that age and I am amazed that I am not in a mental institution or hate the world or something like that.  I cooked, I cleaned, I took care of kids, I disciplined, I slept with one eye open whenever my mom worked the overnight shift, I made Sunday breakfast even though people would complain that my pancakes weren't as thin as mommy's.  I knew about the bills- which were being paid and which weren't.  I knew about the frustration my mom was dealing with as an adult and a parent. I knew about the drugs my father took and the other women.  I knew that my father had a big job and a big position as director of a few group homes for teens, but he didn't share any of his money or pay any bills, which is why my mom would get on the cheese line often instead of being able to raise us in an actual house.

Did I also mention that for a majority of my childhood I actually lived in a two-parent household?

Did I mention that my father finally kicked my mom, me and my 5 siblings (at the time) out of the apartment we'd lived in for 11 years and kept the dog?

Honestly, just listing those few things alone exhaust me, but I have to ask, "is it a wonder that I am 35 years old and never married?  Single parent?  Still swimming in issues of self worth?"

See, I was the good girl.  The one who took care of everything.  The one you didn't have to worry about.  The one who - despite objections - would fix everything.  I'm surprised my nickname isn't The Fixer.  And even though I left home at 15 (got a scholarship to a prestigious boarding school), took care of myself financially since then, but was still be there to write a check for whatever anyone wanted,and be 'bad cop' to my mom's 'good cop' in the parenting area- what about what I needed?  Apparently that has never been important, well, with me being 'the oldest of now 7, who fixed things.'

To this day I have to remind people that I have 1 child. To this day I was still holding out hope, ready and willing to help any of my immediate family members who were ready for my support should they decide to finally do something opposite from the 'nothing' that they'd been doing.  To this day I still keep getting screwed over by those same people who are supposed to be there for me the way I'd been there for them most of my life.

In the Summer of 2009, I was in a car accident (I was not at fault -- I was hit).  My child was in the car. Car (which is names Kyle Reese) was almost totaled.  And we were driving through Virginia, en route to New York after coming from my grandfather's funeral in North Carolina.  My father - who had disowned me when I was fifteen - drove right pass the accident (for a minute I thought I was dead because it was just too coincidental to see him on the same road at that time).  Sometimes I wonder if God jokes around on folks, but I swallowed that because my father and I hadn't spoken with each other since I was 15 and he decided to fight me like a dude because he "thought" I didn't say hello to him one day - TRUE STORY, June 28, 1995.  And when I finally got home, back in NY, after taking my son to the emergency room just in case he was injured, after a now 12 hour drive... my mom didn't call me.  She called and spoke to my brother (who was in the car that hit me), but she didn't call me.  Why?  Well, I found out when I finally called and asked her - that it was because she "heard I was all right."  About a week later I had an emotional breakdown finally, because it'd really hit me: right after the accident all I cared about was if my child and the other passenger in the car was ok, and how I was responsible for getting them back to NY safely.  Forget the fact that I drove through VA, MD, NJ and NY with a hood that looked like an accordion.  Forget that my car was the only car in the 3 car accident that looked like it got the snot beat out of it. Forget that I had just come from a very emotional event.  I had to make sure everyone was all right - and there is nothing wrong with that.  What is wrong is when other people - my own family, my own momma - don't care if I'm all right.

It's been about a year and a half since the accident, and a lot of drama has happened over recent weeks.  Apparently, I wasn't supposed to ask my sister's and my mom why my brother's mistress was hanging out at their apartment.  And now interestingly, I have been silently shunned.  I say silently because no one has said anything to me directly - and I'm all about the direct approach - but when your little sister un-friends you on Facebook... "Houston, we have a problem!"  When your brother yells that you and your sister (the sibling after me) are "bougie" and we need to fuck off (forget the fact that I'd not had a conversation with this dude in years), AND your mom witnesses this, and says NOTHING... (this bears repeating: "dot-dot-dot").

Look, I'm gonna stop with the bullshit that I hate and just accept the fact that I have to make the phone call (if they actually answer the phone when I call) and tell everyone to lose my number. I recently told a friend that it makes no sense for someone with such a huge family to be so alone. There really isn't.  This type of thing has been going on for so much of my life, and now I've finally had an epiphany. I realized that I have to stop the madness. I have to cut the bad part off. I have to say to everyone - I'm done. Because I am not ready to give away my happiness any longer.  It makes me really sad to have come to this conclusion, but there is a sense of relief as well.  I'm really interested to see how I play this out.

Working My Way Back

I'm the kind of person who, when I get into a funk, I hibernate.  I am not one of these "misery loves company" people, and when I am going thru 'it" I fall back and work on getting my shyt together as opposed to infecting everyone else's aura with my bad/lost/depressed moods.

Well, I feel like I'm working my way back to the me that I know and love.  I attribute exhaustion - physical and emotional - with my temporary breakdown.  All of a sudden, things that didn't bother me before drove me nuts.  Actually, to clarify: I allowed things that didn't bother me before to drive me crazy.  It was like my tolerance level for all things annoying was non-existent.  For a minute I went into the 'woe is me' 'why me' 'what did I do in a former life' detour that had me feeling like Charlie Brown constantly going to kick the ball and having it pulled from my path leaving me lying on my ass.  I couldn't leave the apartment on time in the morning, I was constantly looking for my keys, a day would pass and I would remember that I hadn't eaten, anxiety was keeping me up until 1, then 2, then 3, then 4 am - every day.  People weren't fulfilling their responsibilities which affected my home.  I believed the job was trying to kill me (or at least get me thrown in prison) - I actually still believe this but I refuse to give them the satisfaction (stubbornness can actually be a good thing!).  I basically allowed everything in life to spin me around in a circle until I was so dizzy I could not see straight. 

Well, the Mama Bear has woken from hibernation and is in the process of stretching out my kinks before getting back to work!  I won't go into too much detail right now - simply because the transformation process that I have experienced in the past month was so nuanced and massive that I don't want to do it an injustice by glossing over it, but I will get into it at a later date.  What I did want to talk about was a change encounter with a stranger.

I was standing outside of a huge Botanica that I had just exited.  When I went in I grabbed a basket and wanted to purchase all of these "things" and realized after 10 minutes that I didn't really need anything because I'd had supplies at home already.  So, I put the basket back and leave the store, but I stop when I see a window display that I had never noticed before.  It was a display of talismans and amulets.  I looked at them, proceeded to walk away, but came back, staring, reading the meanings behind all of the 35+ talismans on display in the window.  I eyeball one that I keep coming back to, but tell myself not to make snap judgments just because I recently emerged from the fog of crippling depression (I would say I've only simply stepped out of the door of the house of depression, and have yet to walk down the steps and down the street from it so this is still a very fragile time, BUT I feel like that 1 year old who just knows she's going to walk all on her own today!). 

Anyway, I stare at the display, and I notice a woman in my peripheral vision heading to and walking into the store.  She had a very striking and complimentary blond braided do, and she walked with something about her that made me say to myself that she is wounded right now, but knows stuff (don't ask me why).  She sees me staring hard at the display and says "I never noticed those before!"  and then our conversation began.  I responded, "Me either - they have so much here, I can't stop looking" and then I notice a tear slowly falling from her left eye and down her face, but she still looked determined and knowing.  In the conversation we through out hints of things that we were going through as we talked about the talisman's.  She tells me that she is tired of repeating the same mistakes over and over, I tell her that when she is ready in her core to change those behaviors, she will, it will come... she tells me that she has things, but it's not what she wants.... I tell her that I had an epiphany just yesterday, a voice said to me "stop trying to get what don't want to be got".... we hi-five each other.... she tells me that she's on a mission to do the work she needs... I tell her about a book that I just finished yesterday and recommend it to her.... she just heard about the book the day before on Oprah.... I tell her it is worth the purchase - I read it in a week.... she tells me that she thinks we were supposed to run into each other and have this conversation.... I agree.... we grab hands as we continue to talk, now finishing each other's sentences because we are in SYNC!  I wish the sister well, and she does me.  I leave the window display, needing to pick my kid up from his school interview, but knowing that I will be coming back to get the talisman that has grabbed my soul, and so elated to have encountered who I believe to be a guardian angel.

I get my son, come back to the store and stare at the display again.  My son says I want one too - I need something more.  I know what he means.  I made my decision on what I'm purchasing so we concentrate on what we're going to get for him.  It's an interesting exchange because he usually rolls his eyes at the thought of going into the Botanica, but there is something different about the both of us today.  I feel like there will be movement.  We choose his talisman, go inside, purchase them and leave.  As we walk down the street my son says "I feel so much better."  I ask "What do you mean?"  He responds, "There was something about going in there... I feel like I can breath now, I feel lighter, better."  I say in my mind, "That's exactly how I've been feeling this week baby... finally."

Acknowledging Failure

Even though the new year has just hit and I was all celebratory, drinking my lemon juice spritzer (I'm 'cleansing' this weekend so no alcohol for me) and singing along with Frank Sinatra's New York, New York, my son and I watching Dick Clark and Ryan Seacrest emcee the moment - reality hit me hard less than 10 hours later.  Interestingly, once the ball drop my son immediately became a sour puss and it made me angry because that's how I used to be but I had worked so hard over the years to learn to see the glass as half full as opposed to half empty.  And seeing the look on his face was like being smacked in the face with the ghost of Christmas past.  When he wouldn't snap out of it I sent him to bed - I didn't want him killing my buzz, even if it was simply inspired by homemade lemonade and seltzer water.  A half hour later I went to bed, and did not want to crawl out of the bed when the sun rays blasting through my blinds wouldn't leave me the heck alone.

I have spent most of the day - which I had very early on deemed my 'lazy day' - reading short romance novellas, scanning the internet for everything from Master Cleanse recipes to skin moisturizers to 2-strand twist hairstyles, and letting my son watch anything he wanted - including the unrated version of Old School.  I finally rolled out of bed a few hours ago, brushed my teeth, slathered some shea butter on my dry skin (damn this Winter air) and trimmed some of my hair (I'll finish up tomorrow), and have come to conclusion that I am in a funk because I keep trying to pretend that my failures in life don't exist.

Know how I do that?  Here is my go to line.... "hey, at least I'm alive!"  It's a great line, and also a very true line, but I think I have been using that line as a band aid over the pain and disappointment that I feel toward myself when faced with acknowledging and NOT dealing with my failures.  I make excuses where I try to inject a positive spin to.  It's a cop out method that I have damn near perfected, but right now (I don't know about tomorrow, but right now), I want to be able to acknowledge my failures no matter how enormous or minor, for what they are, without making myself feel like the scum of the Earth.  Is that even possible?  Who knows, but I know that turning the other cheek to the things that I haven't done so well, or not done at all, isn't doing me any good, and I suspect, will not help me grow as a person. And it is this 'stuck on E at the worst truck stop in the universe' feeling that I have to move from.

Family is all Relative

My son and I just spent the Thanksgiving holiday with the family of a friend of mine who I know from work, and the past few days just confirms what I've always believed, which is family is all relative.

To be welcomed into a family of people whom you've never met, and even better for me, to see my son embraced so lovingly (especially since he was a bit nervous beforehand) is something that any person would want and cherish should they be blessed to have such an experience.  I have not necessarily given up on one day having the big family dinner with my own blood relatives, but I live in the hear and now and I am not going to waste my time holding my breath, or tricking myself into believing that I can break bread with a 10 ton pound gorilla in the room.  And since I also have no desire to wallow in any type of self pity with regard to our 'family' situation, I will continue to go toward a place where love is being offered and where I can return it as well.  Family is not supposed to keep score.  Family is not supposed to vilify.  Family is not supposed to take sides.  Family is not supposed to ostracize as if we were in a high school cafeteria trying to figure out which table to sit at.  Family does not always have to agree, but family is supposed to be about respect - in both directions.  Non of this do as I say not as I do - grown ups should be held just as accountable for their actions as we do the children.  Family is the one place where one should be within a hair's reach of "fair."'m still supposed to be one of the kids.  Sure, with a bit more life experience, and maybe I should be setting some life examples for the others to be inspired by and maybe even follow to some degree, but I am still one of the kids.  I get tired of having to remind people of this  Anyway, going off on a tangent, sitting under the hair dryer will 500 rollers in my hair, the heat is burning my neck a little and this blog entry has no real structure, but at the end of the day, it's all in the title.  You can't choose your family, but actually you can :)

What I Luv...

... I noticed that there hasn't been much "Luv" on Luv My Texture, and I thought I would take a moment to remind myself of the great things in life.  I'll try to be brief, even though Yoda said "Try not. Do, or do not. There is no try".

• I luv my remote control (though I have no problem getting up and actually changing the channel - as long as the TV works)
• I luv peanut butter - alone, in ice cream, with jelly, as cookies
• I luv cheesy romantic films. 
• I luv the Yankees.
• I luv sleeping (if only I could get paid for it, "sleeping", not that other stuff that some people call "sleeping" - just to clarify!). 

• I luv my family, despite everything, I want them to be happy too.  
• I  luv the work I do - even though I won't be paying off student loans for this particular career, I'm good at what I do because I enjoy it (it's the other bs that people like to bring into it.... ' I'm digressing' lol!)
• I luv bags.  I don't know why. 
• I luv hats too.  I also don't know why. 

• I luv food.  I luv to cook it, serve it, learn about it (I could never be anorexic because food is so darn good!) 
• I luv my toolbox (Home Depot, to me, is like Toys R Us to my son). 

• I luv men.  Same as the bags and hats - I don't know why (that was a joke.  I know why and it's private, lol!) 
• I luv music.  I hear it when I write, when I walk, when I relax, when I'm upset.  When I hear a piece of music, I choreograph to it in my head... which leads me to...

• I luv dance.  Don't know why I believed that a 5'4" dancer wouldn't make it professionally.  I still luv it.
• I luv to write.  Haven't written as much as I used to, as much as I should... I know, I know... 

I luv my son.  I luv my son.  I luv my son.  Not that kind of luv where I want to suffocate him and stifle who he is, but the kind of luv where I want to do whatever I can to help him soar above any and everything.  I luv his spirit.  I luv his humor.  I luv his compassion.  I luv his inquisitiveness (most of the time).  I luv that I can be silly with him and still be deemed cool.  I luv that to him I'm a cool mom.  I luv that he understands that I am tough and he luvs me anyway.  I luv that we talk all the time.  I luv that he makes me talk to him.  I luv the way he sleeps (in his own bed!).  I luv that the only thing I know for sure is that his presence in my life has made me a better person - even just a little bit.