The Love We Had Stays On My Mind

I’ve been trying to figure out how to write this blog. The 1st blog after I lost my WHOLE Heart. My whole world is different, because my Mother died.

I had a plan for this summer. It didn’t include this. I made the dopest playlist ever {See Below} . . and made my plans to travel all over. Then . . .

Stage 4 Metastatic Breast Cancer.

The foundation I’ve rested on . . . started to crumble. I reached out to my people . . . because we had decided we were going to just . . . Live the Best Summer Ever.

Together. Me and My Mommy.

• Life got in the way.
• Other peoples issues got in the way.
• 600ML of Fluid on her Lungs got in the way.

She started saying her goodbyes. She left messages for me with her friends. Directions on how to function without her.

She was tired.

I gave her permission . . .to stop fighting. To Stop being a Warrior for me. I told her everything. My plans, the back-up plans, and the people who were going to help me meet those goals.

Now She’s Gone.

• Moving on feels like the Worst Thing Ever.
• Being Happy feels like the Worst Thing Ever.
• Because she’s Gone . . . and That’s the Worst Thing Ever.

To My Brothers: Thank You. Thank you the calls, for coming, for sitting right next to me as I said Goodbye to My Mother. Thank you for the Hangouts conversations, the cards, the everything you’ve done.
To Stacey: I’m so Grateful for the way you Loved My Mother. Thank you for being ME, when I couldn’t be there. I’ll never be able to repay you for the last 2 years.
To Emmanuel: Thank you for picking me up off the ground. Thank you for helping me pick up the pieces. Thank you for being You.
To Kaitlyn, Raji, Diamond, Aaliyah, Chavi, Jo, Nisha, Dom, and Michelle: Thank you for being my Sister Circle. For answering every text and call . . .for letting me cry, and vent, and breathe . . .for the Spanish Inquisitions, Disney Adventures, and Gourmet Meals.
To The Cousins: Thank you for surrounding me with Love. Thank you for the arguments, and chicken wings, and bottles of liquor, and stop overs, and UFC Fight Nights. For loving my goofy ass dog, and checking on me daily. I promise to be around more, because If i don’t, Joyce will haunt me.

Thank you to anyone who sent a prayer, positive thought, text, message, smoke signal, edible, hug, emmisary on their behalf. I don’t have enough words to say it. So Just . . .

Thank You.

2 Day Free Write: I miss the Old Kanye

After I cried for an hour at work, I started making a plan. . . .

This is a Free Write, I’m just jotting down thoughts, because the Woman I realized is my mentor, told me to.  And sometimes I obey commands . . . but only sometimes.

1. My best friend lost her mom at the end of last year.  She had to see her mother become this thing she wasn’t ready for.  She had to see her mother in pain and hurting, because cancer was ravaging her body.  At about the same time, my mother was going through Chemo for Cancer.  And I was in Arizona.  2096 miles away from her.  I have the greatest Best Friends, and my OTHER Best Friend stepped up and kept my mom together.  She drove her to appointments, helped run errands, basically everything.  I don’t know what I would be, without her.  I’m so grateful for what she’s done for my mother.  But it’s getting to me today.  Being away from her, is getting to me.  I’ve been in Arizona for 9 years, and this is the 2nd time I’m seriously considering leaving.  Because THAT’S MY MOTHER. And when I was sick, she dropped everything and came here for me.  I should have done the same for her.  I know all the practical reasons why I didn’t, but I should have.  I think, I feel guilty that I didn’t come home.  I know most of my family judges me because of it.  I had already assumed it, but it was confirmed over the holidays.  I just . . . hate having to acknowledge that my mother is going to die.  I can’t even IMAGINE my life without her in it.  I’ve been her life, since I was born.  I have so many hopes and dreams for my mother.  I want her to live a carefree life, at least 5 years.  So i can see my mother without the struggle.  Cuz it’s been a struggle much more often than it’s not.  My mother DESERVES better life.  I want to give that to her.  Because i couldn’t thank her enough for everything she’s done for me.  IF i wrote it a million times a day, it wouldn’t be enough. I’m almost at the point where I want to beg God, Please Please Please let me have this option.  And that’s selfish.  I understand that.  Everything has a reason, everything happens for a reason.  But Please Please Please God, help me help my mom to live her best life.  Please.
2. I think I’ve met the person who is going to be my male companion for the rest of my life. Or rather, one of them.  That’s weird.  But he’s . . . . stable. That’s all I’m gonna say about that.  Because . . . . NO.
3. Drugs are amazing.  LEGAL Drugs are amazing.  They make life easier to handle.  Everything in moderation tho.  I’m low-key worried about my . . . dependence on sleep helpers.  Like, am I going to live the rest of my life unable to sleep without some type of medicinal help?
4. BIG K.R.I.T. is Life.  If you don’t know . . . now you do.
5. Have this innate fear of talking about my personal life on this blog and/or social media now.  I feel like there were, in the past, people I thought were friends who saw me happy and wished unhappiness on me.  I know this may slightly appear to be irrational, but it is what the FUCK it is.  I’ve felt like there was someone in my life, who pretended to be my friend, but hated me.  I think they had access to my personal life, and details about it, then very specifically plotted against me.  And because I was just walking around clueless, I didn’t protect myself like I should have.  I didn’t know I needed to pray about people trying to cause me harm.
6. I miss #TheHim. I miss how he felt, and smelled, and looked at me.  I know I shouldn’t, and my pride won’t let me contact him.  But I miss him sofa king much lately.
7. I’ve self diagnosed myself as being Bi-Polar with symptoms of Hypomania. This is because of an article I read on Facebook. I’m probably right about this.  Google it, and see if it doesn’t describe me almost perfectly.
8. I just saw the FINEST black man at the Club House Gym.  Guess who’s going to start working out here. New stalkee’s always bring me joy.
9. I’m not a stalker . . . . anymore.  I miss that side of me.
10. IRRRRRRRRRRRNADIMM. INAOTNE. IAEAVFT, ATHTTAFMBASPHHEAUX . . . . I’ll never forgive that bitch.
11. I miss college, or rather the music of college.  If I had known that I would regret not making up diss trolls to every song that plays these days, I would have probably been in better shape back then.
12. People keep calling me skinny.  It’s annoying. (This is in response to my recent weight loss.  I’m smaller, but I ain’t nowhere NEAR skinny and never will be.)
13. This took me 2 days to write, cuz I got distracted by a guy at Starbucks.  I mean, he was there to see me . . . so there is that.
14. Edibles are AMAZING.  Anyone who tells you different is a Lying Ass Liar.
15. Thanx for reading!

 

The Moment My Musical Childhood Died . . .



Michael Jackson was the voice of my youth. I distinctly remember how each of his songs made me feel the first time I heard them. I remember going to see him in concert. { More on that experience in My MJ is Gone Blog} When he died . . . I was completely inconsolable for DAYS. Like, I sat on the couch, and just stared at the TV and the Computer screen.
Whitney Houston was the voice of my adolescence. I sang The Bodyguard in the car listening to my DiscMan. The Preacher’s Wife Soundtrack is STILL my favorite Gospel Album. I stood outside my house, and cried while talking to my best friend. When Whitney died, so did the last vestigaes of my childhood.
Prince was the Voice of my Womanhood. When I was 23, I saw him in concert, when he did the Musicology Tour. I remember being at awe of him, on stage, with just 4 guitars, a piano, and his amazing band. I knew I was seeing a genius at work.
The first time I heard Purple Rain as an adult, was the day my soulmate broke my heart. The words struck me in a way they never had before. I’d seen the movie all my life, loved it and the soundtrack. But something about him singing about the failure of that relationship, when all he had was the best of intentions . . . It tore my soul. I curled up in a ball, in my walk-in closet of my first apartment in Tucson, and cried for HOURS. I listened to Purple Rain, the song, not the album, until my phone died . . . About 5 hours.
Music has always defined how I felt about life. It’s always been the background to major life events and crisis’. April 21, 2016 . . . The day all my music was finally dead. I feel like I’ve lost a part of me, that still hadn’t healed from losing MJ and Whitney. I might never be able to listen to Purple Rain again without crying . Just like I can’t listen to Man in the Mirror anymore, or The Greatest Love of All.
Today, when I’ve heard people talk or read about this loss, those three people are held in the same stature. “This is worse than when MJ Died,” or “This is just like when I found out about Whitney.” Or “He’s the last on the list of my childhood musical heros.” I feel like we are a generation lost at this point. I was 2 years old when Purple Rain come out, yet its in my top Five movies that define the 80’s for me.
My musical heart is broken. And there is nothing, and no one who can fix it. Ever.

Why Hello Depression . . . You weren’t Missed at All.

It’s hard to explain to people how your attitude can change with a look, or the lack of one.  I started out this morning on a good note.  I was happy, and I had just received some great news.  I haven’t had another seizure, and I might actually be losing weight.  There is no reason for me to be on the verge of tears. And yet, I am.

Something as stupid as not receiving an email, made me feel stupid and ostracized and unwanted. I feel unvalued, and unimportant.  I feel less than.  And that’s a slippery slope.  Because usually, the way I deal with that is reaching out to someone to make me feel special. Usually, the best way to do that is sexually, or eating. Both of them, at one time or another, were my go-to methods of self-help.

I’m sitting on my* porch, and trying to figure out why I’m in this place again.  The only real trigger is the fact that I walked into a chapter meeting, and I didn’t get the “Wear Black, we are taking chapter pictures,” email. I looked unprofessional, and unprepared.  I felt stupid.  And how VAIN is that.  That was my trigger, not looking perfect.

This seizure has changed so much of my life.  More than I can even speak on at the moment. But not having the control of my own space, my own transportation, my own schedule has been such a struggle for me.  I’m used to only having to rely on me to get things done.  I’m starting to feel the pressure of depending on others.

And it’s not even pressure from the outside.  It’s me telling myself you have to do and be all the things.  You can’t be weak.  People are expecting you to fail, get it together. And I can’t. It seems like around every corner is yet another obstacle getting in my way. My emotions are out of control almost all the time.  I miss my friends. I hate when people talk to me in my free time. I’m going to make people hate me soon, just so that I can have some peace in my life.

I’ve been in Arizona for 7+ years.  This is home to me. But I MISS MY FRIENDS. I miss the ability to go see someone whenever I want to.  I’m trying to navigate new relationships, and I don’t know where I stand in them.  I don’t know what I want, and at the same time, trying to figure out if I still believe in the word Hope. I’m miserable when I get free time.  I hate thinking, I hate my idle mind.  I want quiet  . . . with someone else there.

Nothing I’m currently thinking makes any sense.  That’s what my depression looks like.  One bad day, followed by several good ones.  Pushing everything down, because I have to work.  People are counting on me, get it together.  But that one day . . . it hits when I don’t have something in front of me to distract me from my inner voice.  That voice used to be my mom.  It kept me motivated.  That voice has become my own, and I’m sad. I can’t seem to find the words to get out of these funks.

I need my support system here, in Arizona.  I need A support system in Arizona. The only person who has had my back my whole life is my mother, and I just . . . she’s getting older. She’s spent my entire life having my back, and I should be working on having hers. And I’m not, because I’m in this place. The place that won’t allow me to let go and have faith. This place that makes me sad, and attitudinal and RUDE to her. Because I’m so afraid of losing her. I don’t know what my life would be without her here. And I’m so afraid, this fear is nothing i’ve ever felt before. I just watched my siblings have to say goodbye to their mother, and I’m so AFRAID.

Maybe that’s the base of my whatever the hell this is.  That every day, I’m looking at my mom, and realizing how blessed I am having her in my life. Maybe that’s it.

Whatever the hell it is, I’m not in the right place. And it’s easier to write that here, and share it with strangers, than ask my friends for help. It’s easier to post this, and pretend it’s just another blog post, and not a cry for  . . . something.  Not help, because I’m tired of needing help from people. I can post this here, and be selfish enough to be this emo, and not interrupt people’s lives crying and being sad. This depression thing, it comes in waves.  It hasn’t crashed down on me, yet.  I’m not drowning, yet.  But I’m soaked right now.