Tag Archive | Happiness

Home is where the Heart Is . . .

You know how people say that, and it pisses you off because what the hell does that even mean?!?! Okay, is that just me? Maybe it is. Whatever don’t judge me, you don’t know my story. (I mean unless you read my blog then you probably know my entire life story.) Anyway, on my recent rip to Arizona, I’ve made some interesting observations that I would like to share.  Here they are . . .

1) I Am A Nomad.

This is a very important observation.  I don’t like being in one place for a long period of time.  I need a variety of scenery, and different things to do.  Without that variety, I get bored, and then I do dumb things.  More than just needing variety, I work better with a very precise set of circumstances.  I need a job that has a variety of responsibilities.  I need to be able to craft my life around my schedule, and not the other way around.  I need to have a readily available support team – be they family or otherwise – I can go to when I need something. As my Sorority Sister once told me, “You are consistently inconsistent.” That’s a very accurate portrayal of me.  I’m a flake, but I’m reliable when I’m not in Flake Mode.

2) Tell People They Matter, before you can’t tell them again . . .

When my Nephew Fred Lux died last month, the only thing I could think about was, “Did he know how much he was loved?” People need to know they are valued.  People should know you rely on them to get through your day.  At work, at home, when you go to the mall . . . Doesn’t really matter.  If you haven’t told them how important they are to you, assume they don’t know.  There were 500+ people at my Nephew’s Funeral . . . Standing Room Only.  People took time off their jobs, on a Wednesday, to make sure his family knew that he was important to everyone he encountered. Tell people they matter.  It’s not just about stroking their ego, it’s about touching their heart.

941299_10153386613930613_1059666991_n3) I will never NOT work with Kids . . .

Kids are the greatest thing ever in life. And not for a weird reason, but because they are the personification of innocence in a very messed up world.  The smile of a child is enough to change the direction of your day . . . If you let it.  I spent this vacation with children for the most part.  My nieces and nephews, the kids I used to babysit when I lived here, and even stopped by my old job.  The thing that struck me was that they remembered me.  Not all of them remembered my name.  But I made a lasting impact in some kind of way.  From a kid saying, ‘Hi Applehead’, to the little girl who couldn’t even speak, she just hugged me until I walked out of the door.  My reason for being, is to work with children.  To educate them, to be a friend, and to help them at whatever stage of life they happen to be in when they cross my path.  The absolute understanding of that concept was baffling to me when I was younger.  At 31, it’s a challenge.  Can I be what I think I’m supposed to  be. Can I live up to that standard? I’m not sure,  but I think so. I’m excited to see just how far I can go!

4)My Father Loves Me . . .

I know that sounds weird, but it has taken me a long time to accept my Father exactly as he is.  For years, I expected him to be what I NEEDED him to be.  Then, I expected him to be what I WANTED him to be. About two years ago, I came to the conclusion that I had been doing it all wrong.  Understanding  you will never be able to control another person’s actions creates a kind of relief.  You can stop holding them to the standards you have set for them.  When I left Arizona, I explained to my Father that I needed something from him, that he wasn’t able to provide.  But I wasn’t upset about it.  I just understood what I needed in my life at that time. But I love my Dad.  For every conversation where he tries to protect me from my own stubbornness, to his gestures of acceptance as weird as they might be to others.  I’m at the point in my life where I’m so GRATEFUL I have two Living Parents.  I can go to them in need of advice, and they actually respect my dilemmas/issues and give me solutions without Judgement.  Growing up is sometimes awesome.

5) True Friends are hard to come by . . . 

I’m not talking about people you see everyday.  I mean the people you don’t talk to for MONTHS, but one phone call makes it feel like they are right next to you.  My Best Friends all have “titles” – White Boy Best Friend, High School Best Friend, Lesbian Best Friend, etc. – But their Best Friend status is not based on their label/title.  It’s based on how/what/when/where/how they have been with me throughout my life.  I’m learning in my old age, friends are there when sometimes family chooses not to be.  I’m grateful for the people who call me friend. Those who listen to me talk about my life, and don’t judge me or my actions.  Those who might have a completely different outlook on life, but still embrace mine.  Friends who teach me how to make a new meal every time I see them, and who don’t judge me for late night texts/IM’s about my dastardly deeds.  I’m really blessed, and appreciative for all of you!

Thanx for Reading!

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Feelings are NOT Facts . . .

It’s that thing when you have so much you need to say, and you can’t think of a clever way to say it.  I try to make my blogs cute and funny, but also reflective fo my current or past struggles.  Sadly, I’m in a place right now when I FEEL like anything I would have to say is going to offend or hurt someone’s feelings. This is going to be a cacophony of thoughts.  Then, I’ll try to bring it all together at the end okay.  Lets Go . . .

1) I’m Flattered But . . .

Recently, a guy from my past popped up out of nowhere.  We went to the same church when we were younger.  Due to my perpetual status as on outsider, we didn’t have much interaction.  He was cute, but he didn’t talk to me, probably because I was the awkward fat girl.  For some reason, he’s intent on convincing me that I am the one person he needs to make his life better.  Except, he’s doing it all wrong!

If you have to beg me to pay attention to you, you aren’t worth my time. Conversely, I shouldn’t be worth yours. The minute a girl says to you, I’m not ready for a relationship, believe her!  My aversion to anything that looks like a relationship aside, why are you trying so hard? And who told you the way to a woman’s heart was begging? Like, thanks for paying attention to me 20 years later . . . but no thanks.

Underneath this new – more curvy, less chunky – figure I am the SAME awkward Fat Girl from the Teen Choir.  I haven’t changed at all.  I said when I started losing weight, the men who started paying attention to me {but didn’t give me the time of day when I was at my largest} would be the first men to get told off.  Because I don’t care what kind of society we live in . . .If you didn’t like me at my ‘worst’, Fuck you Very Much at my very Best.

2) I’m In Love with Another Man . . . 

First of all, let me just say Jazmine Sullivan took my WHOLE entire existence with this song when I first heard it 3+ years ago.  But the words are ringing true to me currently. What’s crazy is, I’m not in love with a specific person.  I’m in Love with an image.  It’s the image I’ve cultivated over the last few years of what/who I’m looking to spend the rest of my life with.

I’m in Love with my Best Friend.  I don’t even know if I could be attracted to someone I didn’t trust with all my secrets FIRST.  Sexual Attraction is such a great idea….But it’s not gonna keep me warm in the middle of the night.  It’s not going to buy me Hello Kitty accessories because they saw them while they were out. I’m looking for the guy who knows my mood based soley on the Spotify Playlist playing while I’m washing dishes.

The person you should end up with, in my very humble opinion, is the person you think about when bad shit happens.  It’s the first person you call when you need to cry (more on that later).  Its the person whose face you know would make you feel safe.  In all of my relationship travels, there have been very few people that I’ve thought had the potential to be that person for me. 

Of course, my track record with falling in love with my Best Friend hasn’t gone so well in the past . . .

 3) WE, are Never Ever, Ever, Getting Back Together . . . 

In the same vein . . . I’m really tired of people telling me how I should feel about my Ex.  I’ve decided I’m allowed to hate him whenever I want to.  I am allowed to love him whenever I want to. I am allowed to miss him whenever I want to.  I want to be able to say I don’t ever want to see him again, and that be okay.  The Happy I Felt when we were together is something I should say I want again in my life.  But I don’t want that.  Ever.  Because if you have it, you can lose it.

Losing it almost broke me.  Few people I was on the verge of Suicide when I moved back to Michigan. *Well, now everyone knows I guess* I left AZ because the stress of knowing he was so close and yet so far was getting to me.  Staying in AZ gave me a false sense of hope.  I’ve learned that Hope should only apply to Barack Obama and the Dreams of Suckers. {10pts if you get this movie reference}

I don’t want to EVER see him again.  I don’t want to hear his voice, or smell him, or listen to his favorite song. I don’t even like seeing pictures of him.  Because 1st, I remember the Happy.  But IMMEDIATELY after that, I remember the Sad.  And that Sad almost took me out.

See how my thoughts don’t make any sense.  Those three things I just posted, in complete conflict with each other.  But Wait, there’s more…

4) Being Honest Is Hard

I’ve stopped telling people stuff I think might hurt their feelings.  I’ve stopped making statements that might offend ‘outsiders.’ Now, I do have a circle of friends who accept everything that comes out of my mouth.  But . . . even amongst some of my “Close” Friends, I don’t say what I think.  I think being in social work has stunted my emotional freedom.

I used to ‘react’ quickly to things that offended me.  I used to stand up for myself when I felt slighted.  I don’t do that anymore either.  That could be the result of being told my feelings don’t matter.  It could be because my feelings are never validated, because they don’t go along with the desired emotional direction of “The Team.”  But whatever has caused this emotional retardation that has made me sensitive to everyone but me, it’s time out for that shit.

  5) Stop being a Baby

I cry too fucking much.  Like, I spent a SOLID 28 years, never crying.  We are talking maybe one ugly cry a year.  Since 2010, I swear I’ve cried on average 4 times a month.  Like, I cry watching tv shows.  I cry watching movies.  I cry listening to music.  I cry during phone conversations.  What the fuck is wrong with me?

Crying is for weak people, who can’t suck it up and deal with what life hands them. This crying all the damn time thing isn’t even something I would have ever thought I would go through.  *Boy, was that Psychic Wrong*  I still handle problems and get shit done.  But it’s fucking embarrassing.  Everyone shouldn’t see my tears.  They haven’t earned the right to see me this vulnerable. I’m starting to think I should have gone to therapy once I moved back to Michigan.  I might be in a better place emotionally.

So Yeah, that’s it for now.  I doubt this makes any sense.  I don’t really think it was meant to.  But I put it all out there, so that’s something right?

The Black Twitter Guide to Dating

In no way can I claim to be part of the #BlackTwitterElite. My blog is not quoted daily, nor do I have 1000+ followers.  No one buys my cookies online, and I haven’t discovered (then exploited) all the secrets Shea Butter holds.  But What I am, is an observer.  I follow the people to which the aforementioned criteria applies to.  In my observations, I have learned that I have been doing this dating thing all wrong.  I offer to you, The Black Twitter (Male) Guide to Dating.  Enjoy!

Rule #1: You Must Be Physically Perfect

NO EDGES, NO MAN!

This means you can never take a bad picture.  EVER. The only way you are considered an eligible prospect is physical perfection, or making a constant effort to get there. The good thing is, you don’t have to be NATURALLY perfect.  Cosmetic ‘restructuring’ is perfectly acceptable, as long as you don’t expect your man to pay for it.  Ass shots, fake boobs, spray tan, proper photo angles . . . all of these are fine, as long as no one is ever exposed to your flaws.

Where do You Fall?

Rule #1a: Long Hair, they really do care.  If it’s a weave – as long as it doesn’t come out during the two-hour quickies in the middle of the day – the Black Twitter Male has no issue with it.  HOWEVER, ‘Yo Edges Betta Be On POINT!’ Those edges must flourish.  If they don’t, you should have a plan of action in order to improve them.  But make sure you purchase your all-natural products from the right person/company/online store, because this faux-paux is grounds for a breakup and an immediate twitter slandering.

Rule #1b: If you choose to go natural, your hair texture must be between a 2B and a 3F.  Anything other than that is nappy, and that shit ain’t cute.  Cuz we all know, Natural ain’t for everybody.

Rule #2: All Girls must understand/like sports to be considered dating material.  

This means you will sit on the couch during the game (after you have made him the greatest sandwich to ever have been made) and watch the game with him.  Because if you won’t watch the game with him, there will always be another female who will.

Black Twitter Perfection

Rule #2a: You must understand enough about sports to never talk during a game, but not enough to argue a call/play.  No good woman is so into sports she disagrees with her man.  The minute you get the urge to argue a call, just go make a sandwich, or clean something.  It could save your relationship.

Rule 2b: You Must Like Football.  American Football, not Soccer.  This is not an option.

Rule 2c: Either you hate Lebron James, or you know all the stats that make him better than Jordan. This rule also applies to Kobe Bryant.  If your man is having an argument about the Greatness of Jordan/LeBron/Kobe, you should be able to back him up.  Your facts must be up to date, so study while you are making dinner.  This shows your level of dedication to your man.

Rule #3: Chivalry Exists, just not all the time.

. . . This.

It’s unfair to expect a man to have a clearly defined role in your relationship, so stop expecting it.  Yes, he is a MAN. But if he doesn’t want to be the provider, that is his choice.  If you fight him about it, it’s really you being difficult, not him being a bum.  Doesn’t he take out the trash? Doesn’t he always cut the grass three days after you ask? Doesn’t he always drive your car when you are going somewhere? Why are you asking so much of him? Do you want to be single?

Rule #3a: You are not allowed to have an opinion . . . ever. You minute you understand this, you will have a happy relationship.

She knows her place . . . do you?

Rule #3b: All women belong in the kitchen, or at work.  You must choose one or the other, you can’t to both.  The minute you find a man, you have to either become his property or his provider.  The 2013 man isn’t looking for a partner, he’s looking for a caregiver. If you can’t cook, then you better have a good ass job.  Cuz Real Men don’t cook, they only use the grill.  And they drink imported beer.  And who do you think it going to pay for that? Surely not him.  So you better be making at least $75,000 a year.  You can’t support two people on anything less.

Every Man on Black Twitter Looks Like This

Rule #4: Men will be men . . . deal with it.

If you question why he thinks it’s okay to flirt on social media, it’s because he’s a man.  He’s not fcuking her, they just play flirt.  Stop being so sensitive.  You are lucky to even have a man, if you think about it.  You, with your 4b textured hair, and your oddly off-kilter smile.  You are really pushing it by asking him to respect your relationship. Having expectations for your man is why you were single in the first place.

Rule #4a: The Modern Black Woman doesn’t expect the man to do anything but love her.  If you want to go on a $200 date (what you need to know it’s real) then you BEST pay for it yourself.  Or at least pay half.  And if you don’t pay for half of it, you should have a way to say thank you . . . Also, don’t ask for anything. BUT, you better let him know what you are NOT asking for.  Don’t just show up at the crib with your Hair Did, Nails Done, everything did.  You better tell him where you are going first!

. . . and that’s fine. You should be Light Skinned tho . . .

Rule #5: All single women are lonely bitter women . . . and also probably dark skinned.

Because Light Skinned women are perfect.  They fit all the requirements by just existing.  Its not the Black Twitter Male’s fault that you have 2 babies’ fathers.  He didn’t leave you alone and pregnant. He takes care of his 4 kids, $50 a month for each of them. And he sees them on the Holidays.  Why are you so angry? Is it helping, Bitter DarkSkinned Lonely Black Woman.  I doubt it.

Rule #5a: The best kind of woman is a Lady in the Streets, and a Freak in the bed.  And also a Freak on Twitter.  Also a Freak on Instagram.  Also, she is a Twitter Honey. (She’s allowed to have followers, but she can only follow you) And also, she can twerk to any song.  And also, she’s down for a threesome.  Or a foursome.  Also, she will send you nudes on every major life occasion, and then just because.  And, if you as a Black Twitter Male leaks those nudes, well it’s her fault for being a Hoe.

Rule #5b: The Black Twitter Male is looking for a submissive woman.  This means he is in charge all the time.  He sets all the rules that she is to live by, in their relationship.  He is also not bound by these rules, because he is a man. (See Rule #4) She must have read 50 Shades of Grey, and been able to relate to it.  Because all women really just want a man to be in charge, and the perfect woman wants to hand over control the minute she meets a man.

I share . . . because I Care.

Doesn’t all this information make you look at Dating in 2013 in a different light?!?!?!  You, like me, were probably trying to put your best foot forward, and not settle for anything less than perfect.  Now that you know the standards you should be living up to, I hope to see all of my friends wifed up by the end of 2013.  I’m looking for all kinds of wedding invites in 2014.

Thanks for Reading! Comments/Thoughts/Additional Rules Welcomed!

I am SO My Hair: My Recent Hair Journey

Do you SEE how big My Glasses were?

Do you SEE how big My Glasses were?

As some of you know, I recently cut all my hair off. Because … for reasons, we will go into that later. Before we discuss my emotional attachment to my hair, I would like to talk about my Hair Past. I wore pig tails until 6th grade. Mind you, my hair was pretty much at my behind, but the pigtails + the Big Ass Coke Bottle Glasses weren’t really helping me in the “Oh, She looks cool,” department.  Because my mother wouldn’t let me wear my hair any other way.

Nerd Personified

Nerd Personified

Finally, I rebelled and demanded to wear my hair down.  I’m that girl who had a standing hair appointment on Saturdays. My life was scheduled around my trip to Mrs. Trent’s house. I was also the girl who had to wear rollers every night, because I wasn’t allowed to use heat on my hair until high school. Of course, that didn’t always work out very well on special occasions. 

Y'all Don't Judge Me . . . This was before Motions and Natural Hair

Y’all Don’t Judge Me . . . This was before Motions and Natural Hair

Yes, my life was hard. Can you imagine walking around looking like that for the first 17 years of your life?!?! Thank GAWD for college.  I was on my own, no more hair dresser and curling iron every morning.  I had to figure out what the hell I was going to do with my hair all on my own.  One day, I had to run out of the shower, cuz I was late for class, and I forgot to put my hair in a ponytail.  I had put the Paul Mitchell Foaming Pomade in, but for some reason forgot the ponytail.  People kept telling me, I like your hair like that.  I was like, ‘Wait, huh? I forgot my ponytail?!?!’ This is the day I found out my hair was naturally curly. This is also the day I “Went Natural’.

My Hair, the majority of my College Career

My Hair, the majority of my College Career

In March of 2005 or 2006, my Uncle passed away.  I couldn’t handle it.  I had to do something that made a statement about the loss I was feeling.  So I cut all my hair off for the first time.

Fried, Lyed, and Laid to the Side

Fried, Lyed, and Laid to the Side

Because of my awesomely tight curl pattern, I had to get a relaxer for the first time.  And I’m special, so I had to get one every time I went to get my hair done (by the youngest daughter of my original hair dresser). Which was once a week, because I never quite mastered sleeping on my hands so I don’t mess up my hair.  Eventually, getting my hair done once a week became too expensive, and I ‘Went Natural’ again.

My Fro was so effortlessly Amazing

My Fro was so effortlessly Amazing

The ‘Fro only worked when my hair was all the same length.  The lopsided fro got old quickly.  So back to curly I went. Sometimes, I would get braids, just to change my look.  My favorite hair is the ghetto ass Kalekalon (sp) 1b/33, then you boil it so you get wavy braids.  It’s sexy, don’t front.

*side note* This is also a visual reminder of how much weight I've actually lost

*side note* This is also a visual reminder of how much weight I’ve actually lost

Around August of 2010, I had another emotional breakdown of sorts.  Life in AZ wasn’t quite working out how I was expecting it to, and the former love of my life had turned into the world’s largest asshole.  I couldn’t cope . . . So the Hair had to Go. There are two things in life you have control over.  The two things people can give you advice on, but they can’t control.  Hair . . . and food.  Funny how I learned later that those are the two things I used to gain control of difficult situations. 

Just Shave it All Off

Just Shave it All Off

At the not so subtle suggestion of Lord Voldemort, I decided to grow my hair out.  At this point, it didn’t really matter to me what my hair looked like.  So sure, bangs sounded like a good idea.  Sure, I should totally leave my hair straight on a regular basis (0_o) But we don’t judge. 

There Goes My Baaaaaaaaaaangs Bish

There Goes My Baaaaaaaaaaangs Bish

The moment I moved back home, I planned on cutting my hair.  It was going to stop me from working out everyday if it was straight, and it’s just a pain in the ass to keep up.  I know all the products to use, have the greatest flat iron in the world (Solia for the WIN), but I’m lazy.  But my mom was just so excited that my hair was longer than it had been since high school.  So long it was.

My Teeth look white as all the hells . . .

My Teeth look white as all the hells . . .

But the stress of my current job had me feeling out of control.  You try dealing with other people’s trauma and drama for 9-10 hours a day, and accept that whatever you do won’t quite be enough.  I felt myself slipping.  I had to do something to get myself back on track. So I walked into the salon my home hair dresser worked in, and said, CUT IT ALL OFF.

I am NOT my Hair . . .

I am NOT my Hair . . .

He was PISSED.  He was like, “I like your hair long.  You look better with long hair.” But I manned up, and looked him in the eye.  “Cut it, or I’ll find someone else who will.” I took the entire weekend to be able to look in the mirror and know it was me, and not some weird other chick. But I Love It.  I’m embracing not hiding behind my hair, and forcing myself to see ME. The Scar on my forehead, the uneven skin-tone around my eyes, and the nose that always flairs when I try to take a Selfie.

Hair Did, Nails Done. Lip Gloss and Teeth Flossed. Cute!

Hair Did, Nails Done. Lip Gloss and Teeth Flossed. Cute!

So That’s my Story.  What’s yours?

Dear Skinny Stranger Bitch . . . You Don’t Know My Story

*If I was your teacher in your youth, I’m sorry you had to read these harsh words   If I taught your child, I’m sorry you had to see these harsh words.  But, they must be said.*

I went to church today.  My wonderful Pastor was talking about “Breaking Out of Your Rut” in life.  Evidently during my gallivanting (Defn: to go about in search of pleasure) last weekend, I missed part one.

Today’s sermon focused on the last 3 steps to escaping your Rut. The point we are discussing, indeed the catalyst for this rant was Exercise Your Body.  His main point during the sermon was, Movement of your body inspires you to do more in your everyday life.  My rant, however, is not about my Pastor’s words.  It’s about a complete stranger’s way of dealing with them.

Episode #1: As my Pastor is talking, he says, “Now say to your Neighbor, Movement is Good.” My Neighbor to my left says, “You should really listen to what he is saying.

Who Bitch What?!?!?!?

I didn’t say anything, because I knew that if I punched this random Skinny Stranger Bitch in her fucking face, I would probably be asked to leave.  So I just said Amen, and went back to listening to my Pastor.

Episode #2: My Pastor stated something to the effect of, “Y0ur homework for this week is to get up and move.  Walk 15 minutes.” The Skinny Stranger Bitch then gave me the  Holy Helpful Stranger arm rub and said, ‘Now I know it’s hard for you to lose all that weight.  But you have to try.”

Who. Bitch. What?!?!?!?!?

Episode #3: My Pastor then stated something to the effect of, Movement will make you feel better about yourself. Again with the Holy Helpful Stranger Arm Rub, “I have a niece that’s bi— Full Figured like you, and I tell her all the time, You have to try.”

Mother. Fuck.

First of all, stop touching me heaux, I don’t know you like that.  Second of all, all fat people are not the same.  Third, my thighs touching is not an indicator  I Hate My Life.  You Don’t Know My Story.  You don’t know SHIT about me.  You look at me and see a Fat Girl. And that, is the Mother. Fucking. Problem.

I have never met this woman in my life.  She doesn’t know that I’ve lost 60lbs in the last 13 months, and I am working toward losing another 30 before June.  But HOW DARE YOU . . . My Fat is not your business.  Even if I was 600lbs, you don’t have the right to give me advice about what to do with my body.  You have enough room on the bench, my fat is not touching you – so kindly Shut The Fuck Up.

I think her compulsion to save me is actually part of a bigger issue – that is,  the need to help those we deem less fortunate than us.  Of course this assessment of need is based solely on outward physical appearance.

I call what she did Skinny Bitch Privilege.   The Skinny Bitch feels they are the media’s (read: the USA Media) representation of ‘Beauty,” so this means they have the right to ‘help’ people get like them.  They ASSUME anyone who isn’t like them, just hasn’t had the right motivation to Get Like Them. Their Mindset seems to be, “Oh Woe is You.  Please allow me to help you on your journey to being a better person.

Fat DOES NOT EQUAL Unhappy/Sick/Lazy. If there is one constant annoyance in these past 13 months, it has been the perception/assumption that my weight loss happened because I was finally tired of being fat.  It didn’t.  It happened because someone told me I couldn’t do it.  A 60 day challenge turned into a lifestyle change.

Do I feel better now that I’ve lost weight? Yes.  Do I have more energy? Yes. Do rainbows now fly out of my soul every time I work out? No.  Do I know feel complete and whole? NO.  I wasn’t miserable at 378lbs. I’m not ridiculously happy at 318lbs. But however I feel about my body, you will NEVER have the right to tell me your opinion about it.

Listen Skinny Bitch, I’m good.  I eat what I want, I don’t suffer from any sort of guilt/shame about my size.  I’m a grown ass woman.  I like food I know isn’t good for me, and if I feel like it, Imma eat that shit! I don’t need your help or your Pity.

Please, go on with your eating of Salad, I eat that too. Continue to prosper as you use the elliptical to get an ass that looks like mine. Further your journey into the land of Thighs Don’t Touch, I hear it’s cold and dry there . . . but that might just be a rumor.

You might not agree with my thoughts, that’s totally fine.  But thank you for reading, feel free to comment/express your opinion. As long as it’s not about my body 🙂

Dreaming With a Broken Heart . . .

So I decided to let John Mayer be my guide while I write this blog. It’s probably not going to be coherent, but I can promise that it will be nothing but the truth.

Dreaming with a Broken Heart

“I never want to love someone that much again.” It’s something we all say after a break-up.  After you have cried all the tears you need to cry, you decide to hide your heart, and never again be taken in by the words of another man.  It’s not even so much out of hate or anger, it’s out of self-preservation. It bothers me when people close to me have told me I’ve changed recently.

They say I have become distant, and not like the person I was BEFORE.  What I can’t seem to relate to anyone is that I was UnHappy BEFORE. I might have been miserable at times DURING, but it beat the hell out of BEFORE.  I’d gotten so good at lying to myself that clearly the lie had been spread all over the place. AFTER, I’m still trying to figure out how to put all the pieces back together.

When you’re dreaming with a broken heart 
The waking up is the hardest part 
You roll outta bed and down on your knees 
And for the moment you can hardly breathe 
Wondering was she really here? 
Is she standing in my room? 
No she’s not, ’cause she’s gone, gone, gone, gone, gone…. 

Gravity

This is actually my favorite John Mayer Song.  But only the live versions.  When I saw John Mayer, this is the song that made me cry.

Gravity, Is working against me. And Gravity, wants to bring me down.

That’s how you feel, when everything you had started to build crumbles around you.  Every hope, dream, and Fairy tale just disappeared, and you have to cope with that realization and move on.  Right now in my life, is when poverty really bothers me.  Not because I’m starving, but because I didn’t get a chance to fall apart this time.  I couldn’t retreat in a corner, and deal with my heart changing.  LIFE got in the way.  Other people’s problems mattered more, other people’s health mattered more, than me crying over losing my heart.

All I’ve wanted to do, for the last 3 months, is disappear.  Just stay in my house, and be sad.  Not talk to anyone, or see anyone, and just be still.  To stop the world around me from spinning out of control for just a minute.  So that I can process and learn from this experience and get rid of some of the hate, anger, and bitterness that it left inside me.

Friends, Lovers or Nothing

I should have played this song every morning.  To remind myself of the fact, that Question was never answered.  What were we? Who was I to you, really? It was never a secret what he was to me, but I’m starting to believe that everything he said was a half-truth.  Just enough to tide me over until the next time that I questioned what we were doing.  I needed constant confirmation that I wasn’t wasting my time.  That I wasn’t giving my heart to someone who could never love me the way that I needed to be loved.  In the end, it doesn’t really matter does it, what we were.  I think it matters more what I felt we were.

Anything other than Yes is No, anything other than Stay is Go, anything less than I Love You is Lying . . .

Edge of Desire (Blog I wrote about this Song)

Don’t say a word, just come over and lie here with me

Cause I’m just about to set fire to everything I see

I want you so bad, I’ll go back on the things I believe

There I just said it, I’m scared you’ll forget about me

Love Is a Verb

This song meant so much to me, I got it tattooed on my foot.  It’s so simple when you think about it.  Love is indeed a Verb.  It requires action to show its presence.  If those actions aren’t there, how do you know for sure?  Words are beautiful, but they can damage you much more than actions at times.  I know now, not to be wowed by the words, but instead to demand action.  This doesn’t mean flowers and candy. This means, to me: Attention, Devotion, Dedication, Understanding, and Honesty.  As every person is different, they are going to demonstrate this differently. But, I’m going to be much more cautious next time.  Much less invested, until I know that some of this has taken place.

When you show me love
I don’t need your words
Yeah love ain’t a thing
Love is a verb

So this is where I am today.  Good or Bad, It’s where I am.  Coping, and dealing every day.  Trying to rebuild, and move on without fear taking over.

50 Shades of Fucked Up . . . An Honest Inventory of My Life at 30

This blog was supposed to be written on my 30th Birthday.  As I spent it drunk & crying it was clearly delayed.  This isn’t written for everyone.  Those of you who are casual readers and just happened on this page because of the Tags, sorry if nothing makes sense.  To my regular readers, yeah it’s been a while.  I used to blog monthly.  I always had something to say.  It would come to me, and I would sit at my laptop and just let it out.  I haven’t posted a blog in 3 months.  I need to first say somethings.

1) I am probably the only woman in America who read 50 Shades of Grey, and skipped the sex.  I read the sex scenes sparingly, and usually just went right past it.  In my life, sex has never really played an important role, and I think for good reason.  I can honestly do without it most of the time.  Every now and again, I might get an itch.  Usually, it passes. I let it go.  I was a Virgin until I was 26 years and 8 months old, by choice.  I’ve literally gone 2 years at this point without having sex.  It’s not that deep to me.

This is not to say, that the sex scenes weren’t awesome.  But by the time I got to middle of the book, I wasn’t reading it for that anymore.  It was the conversations, particularly the email exchanges that I loved so much.  Amazing how much more honest we can be in writing than face-to-face.  I understood that part of it perfectly.  It’s harder to share my inner most thoughts while I’m looking at someone.  This is probably why, I hate kissing, and looking people {especially men} in the eye.  Way too intimate.  50 Shades of Fucked Up . . .But We Don’t Judge.

2) 50 Shades of Grey is my life.  I’m PISSED I didn’t write this damn book! It’s almost verbatim conversations that I have had in the very recent past.  It was shocking and strange to see these words, these situations on paper, and know they aren’t something I wrote in my journal.  I started reading the book at 10pm, it is now 3am and I had to blog about this before I could go to sleep.  It’s that deep.

I texted my BFF, “I wanted, more than anything, to be the Anastasia to MM’s Christian Grey.” It’s NOT about the sex.  It never was.  It was about the power.  To have that power, control it, and harness it to be used at your discretion.  I didn’t think anyone else in the world could understand how that felt.  At times, it could have been stated better, but overall, the sentiment of 50 Shade of Grey is EXACTLY what I have been dealing with for the last 6 months.

3) Loving someone who is seemingly incapable of loving you back {the way you Want/Need/Desire them to} will ruin you, if you let it.  If you have read any of my blogs since MM came back, you know where I was just 3 months ago. As I never hide and I share everything, I can share this too.  It didn’t work out.  I was in a dark place for a while because of it.  When it all started falling apart, I thought It was me.  That I hadn’t worked hard enough, done everything that I could have, to make him understand how much I loved him.  It didn’t matter what I said, what I did, how much weight I lost, how I cut my hair.  He wasn’t there, at least not for me.

Seeing the pain, the physical restraint in a man’s eyes, when you get to the breaking point is devastating.  At least it was for me.  Knowing that he loves you enough to share things he hasn’t ever told another living soul, but somehow, something in him won’t allow him to get to that next level is just…  Understanding that you will never be with a person, not because you are less than, but you are instead TOO MUCH.  

I’m not simple.  I had a desire to be simple, for him.  I was willing to step out of my comfort zone, and be who I thought he needed me to be.  In return, I asked for {in my opinion} very little. Sadly, the only thing I asked, he wasn’t able to give. If/When he finds someone else, it will be because they are easy.  If we are still friends when that happens, I will acknowledge that, and be sad about it.

4) It’s okay to want more.  It’s not okay to require more from someone you already know can’t give it to you.  Doesn’t matter how many times you talk to your best friends, how many conversations you have with God, trust YOUR Mind.  I knew it wasn’t there.  Not how i needed it to be.  I had to realize it didn’t matter how much we loved each other, because we do, It wasn’t in the way that would make it work out for us. I wanted all of him, because I gave him all of me.  His 50 Shades of Fucked Up wouldn’t let him get past whatever was stopping him from giving me more.

You ever have a thought in your mind? A picture of what your life is going to be? Destroy that picture.  Please.  That picture will make you search for something that might not be what God has in mind for you.  It’s okay to have a preference, it’s not okay to allow that preference to stop you from experiencing a life you never expected.

I’ve always pictured myself as a Big Girl.  I’m proud of my Big Girl Status, I embraced it and shared that pride with the world.  I, hesitated, to lose weight.  I fought myself, and several family members, about my health for the majority of my life.  Working out is one of the best feelings I have ever had in my life.  The euphoria I feel, when I step off a treadmill after 45mins, and know that I am doing something to make me better is just . . . BLISS.

My picture of me is changing {that blog is coming}. It’s something so unexpected, and beautiful, I don’t even have the words . . . This new me, this new body, this new lifestyle is beyond my wildest dreams.  Add to that, I’ve never loved myself more.  People, you just REALLY don’t understand.  Sometimes stepping out of your comfort zone, will be the best thing that ever happened to you.

5) Today, while floating in the pool at work (yes, the pool at work) I realized that my life, is pretty amazing.  

I walk into work, and at least 7 people tell me how happy they are to see me.  They can’t wait to talk to me, tell me every little tid bit of their life since I last saw them.  I clock out for lunch, and spend the next 45+ minutes working out.  Either on a bike, or a treadmill, or the dreaded elliptical.  Or, lately, In a beautiful pool surrounded by Palm Trees and nothing but blue skies.  I clock back in, and get to play with play-dough, or got for a walk and look for lizards, or shake my booty to the latest in kiddy music, “I’m Elmo and I Know It.”

I come home, and pull into a garage that belongs to me.  I enter my beautiful kitchen, with the skylight and vaulted ceilings, and put my keys on a marbled counter.  I place my shoes on the carpeted surface I placed on the front of my foyer (yes, I have a foyer) and walk across my Hard Wood Floors. I check one of my 4 bedrooms to make sure no creatures have taken over my house while I’m at work.

I can look out my patio doors and look at backyard, with the pool and Jacuzzi (that will work once I find a pool guy who works on the weekend) and picture my family out there on Labor Day.  If it’s too hot, I can turn on a ceiling fan or the Air conditioner.  I can sit on my couch, and stare at my 55″ screen TV, turn on my Dish Network and check the DVR.

This is not me bragging.  Please do not take it as such.  This is me taking stock of my life.

HOW DARE I BE SAD!  How Dare I have the Audacity to be Melancholy about  Life? 

My Life is a Blessing.  I solemly vow to start to treat it as such.