Motivation

It doesn't take too much to get me going. Attending an Alumni Reception on Friday evening to meet my alma mater's new president was an enriching and motivating experience. I met with the Dean of my former school, shook a few hands, misbehaved with my prophytes and linesisters, caught up with former peer mentors, and partook of free food and spirits. It was a lovely way to kick off a Friday evening.

Perhaps the most poignant part of the evening , however, was when the 16th president of our university stood to address the crowd. He spoke briefly about the present atmosphere on campus, and swiftly moved into where the university was headed. He told us he needed our help. His vision for our school was about more than being a "top HBCU". We were on the road to becoming a "top school" period. Whereas in my mind, I've always found my school to be a "top school" I could see how the masses might need convincing. And, I was ready to help.

Come 2010 I'll be joining the local chapter of our alumni association, paying dues, and actively recruiting high school seniors to pursue a place that I affectionately call home. I'll be sending chunks of my paycheck to the School of Communications in efforts to assist with the new building. My small financial donation will be honored with my own personal chair in the new auditorium . That's right. When the new school is finally built, and the new auditorium finally opens, you'll find a cozy seat with my name engraved on the back of it. For a school that provided an academic scholarship, a loving support system, stimulating coursework and memories to last a lifetime - the least I can do is give something back.

I'm finding that when I'm helping others and making a difference, I'm at my best. I like that feeling. Even when spending time with Ruby, or volunteering at a local non-profit, something stirs within me and warms my heart. Spending time next year recruiting high school students, giving back and continuing to network with fellow alum will be nothing short of amazing. Plus, adding philanthropy to my life resume just sounds so "grown and sexy"...

Friends Who F- Things Up

I need some friends who do dumb shit. I need friends who f- things up every once in awhile. I need some friends who make mistakes. I know I have them, but as I reflect upon some of the dumb things I've done recently... I don't feel like their sob stories compare.

I was taking Cece to the airport the other day, and her roommate overheard a conversation we were having regarding the boy. I lightheartedly (but seriously) mentioned that I'd like for him to get hit by a bus... or something to that effect. After giving the roomie the cliffs notes version of the story she reminded me to "be careful of my words" because "words have power". Wow. If I thought I had the capabilities of determining his fate, you can bet your bottom dollar I would have done so by now. While I understand that people can 'speak things into existence' I won't believe that my deepest desires for that boy to succumb to bewildering tragedy will happen until... well... it actually happens! I don't think my words have *that* much power, basically. It is what it is.

The conversation with the roommate progressed as I reflected upon what my mother had told me just a few short months ago. She said to me "Michele, YOU are still in a relationship with him, but HE is not in a relationship with YOU. So, you can spend as much time dwelling on this as you like - but until you get to the point that you don't care anymore, you'll continue to be in this relationship. You need to reach a point that - heaven forbid - he could fall off of a cliff and it would not phase you. You gotta move on from him."

Preach, Mama!

But the roommate contended that "not caring" is "not of God" and that if I'm depending on myself to reach that very extreme point, I may never 'get over him'. Fair enough. But THEN the conversation started to sound a little bit like a lecture. And, I had to turn my brain off for a second because I wasn't a fan of being lectured by peers. I have a relationship with God and I'm fully aware of how my actions played a role in the devastation of this summer. The course I used to 'move on' is mine and mine alone. If I need to make snarky remarks every once in awhile to make myself smile then so be it. God knows where my heart is and that is all that matters. More importantly, everyone in a relationship with God knows that it helps to share an empathizing story rather than quote gospel. The most compelling stories about God's greatness come from people with a TESTimony. So, don't tell me what I'm doing wrong - tell me something YOU did wrong and how God fixed it. It's difficult to hear God's word from someone when it sounds more like a Sunday School lesson than compassionate words from a consoling friend. Anyone can quote scripture and make you feel bad for saying mean things. Who can empathize, counsel and guide without coming off as condescending? Hmmm.

On top of that, a few weeks back I confided in Denise that I felt guilty for fooling around with a platonic friend when I knew he had a girlfriend. I. Am. Sorry. But we established a level of comfort a looooong time before he met this girl and when coupled with the fact that I'm LONELY and kinda-sorta don't give a damn, what we have is a recipe for potential disaster. She chastised me too. Look people - it's not like I don't already beat myself up when I make bad choices, okay? I'm an intense, borderline OCD perfectionist who has a hard enough time letting little shit go. I'm not a sociopath. I know the difference between right and wrong. But what the hell? Cut me some slack! Pat my back! Tell me it will be okay. I don't need a smack on the wrist or religious guilt. I need some reassurance that these shortcomings are a bi-product of recent events and do not necessarily reflect on my moral character. Tell me what I already know.

What I NEED are people who understand me, grant me wiggle room, allow me to vent, allow me to cross a few boundaries, and essentially prevent me from driving to NY and punching somebody. I need people who understand what it's like. People who have their own flaws and don't live in these cookie-cutter lives with all the answers but none of the testimony. I need friends with patched-up hearts, religious conviction, and empathetic wisdom... who happen to occasionally do some really DUMB shit.

Where ARE you guys?!

Note to Self...

Stop. Checking. Social. Networking. Sites. You. Dummy.

It's no good for you. You never learn anything useful. Who cares what he's doing? Who cares how he's feeling? Your trying season has changed for the better; his pleasurable season will soon come to an end. The same way troubled waters eventually wash away, storm clouds will silently creep into view. This rollercoaster called life cannot afford us those gleeful peaks without an uphill climb. And we never endure those valleys for long, because another exciting twist or turn is just around the bend. So, chin up. Shake it off. One mindless check-in isn't such a terrible thing - but it is unnecessary. Fabulous people with fabulous lives need not check in on the lowly, selfish, slimy hoebags who twice threatened said fabulosity.

Homeboy now has a blog and twitter account. How nice for him. He constantly updates his Facebook with pleas for people to follow him, keep up with him, check in on him and basically behold the mesmerizing nothingness that summarizes his life. How sweet.

He has plans to pursue business school with his 2.0 GPA and 2+ years of non-work experience. (Getting fired from Merrill and quitting a non-profit gig hardly qualify as "experience"... am I right?) Pah! I laugh at this. I hope the coldness of New York winter consumes his scheming little soul and leaves him shuddering in the misery of his own poor decisions. I hope he encounters insurmountable heartbreak and cries himself back to his southern roots for mama to take care of him - again. I hope life starts to reject him the same way he rejected me. I hope he gets hit by a bus. I want the universe to abort him.

It probably doesn't help that I checked his f-ing page after 6 flimsy hours of sleep followed by running 3 miles and almost hurling this morning... It doesn't help that I checked on him to delay the voluminous workload that's already beginning to wear me down. Now I can't even concentrate.

I'm cranky. But I'm also sincere. My anger has subsided but not completely dissipated. Linda isn't sure this feeling will ever go away, either. I hope she's wrong. Perhaps small glimpses into his self-proclaimed "happy life" will always trigger a tiny bit of anger or resentment. But that doesn't mean I have to fuel it. I'm actually fine. So, mosey along now. Nothing to see here.

Dear Boss

Dear Boss,

When we go over things in meetings - do you listen to me? When I clearly lay out the parameters of a project, illustrating costs, profit margins, investments and revenue totals - do you camp out in Lala Land until my lips stop moving?

For the past 6 weeks I have been working diligently on a project that has produced (aside from results) obstacles, challenges, setbacks, creative discrepancies, email floods, questions, comments, and maybe even a few gray hairs. Now that it's time to pull the trigger and start making deposits and other financial commitments to BACK said project, I'm confronted with even more obstacles, challenges, questions, comments and concerns.

No, sir.

I can not and will not be stressed beyond my current stress level, which is already high. I thought I had learned to relax in the workplace as a bi-product of the summer's events. Evidently I'm hardheaded. But as I sit here, typing, breathing deeply and recounting some of Linda's advice from my lunch hour, I have reached this conclusion: I cannot be consumed by nit picky trivialities that you overlooked the first three times I presented this information to you.

The reasoning behind this decision is that I have the tendency to wear my emotions on my sleeve. When I'm tired or stressed by work, the whole world can tell. I don't like that. I pressure myself to at least present the illusion that everything is okay... from 9 am - 6 pm at a bare minimum. When I go home, or find myself in the presence of friends, I'm allowed to break down and let it all out. But at work? I keep it professional. Well, to the best of my ability, which is trying when my workload is increased exponentially during the busiest and most pressure-filled quarter of the year.

Such is life.

Linda was helpful in allowing me to see that I can "have it all together" and still succumb to daily stressors in the workplace. My innate reactions are within reason and understandable, particularly considering what's at stake and the expectations of me. Anyone would be on edge. And, while that makes 100% sense, it doesn't completely set my mind at ease. When a person sets high standards for herself, and typically exceeds even her own expectations... what do you have? A recipe for success... or perhaps a catastrophe.

In the end, I'm confident I will close out 2009 on top as far as my career is concerned. In the meantime, however, I'm going to need my boss to pay closer attention when I explain things. It's really as simple as that.

Best. Week. Ever.

The storm won’t last forever. It’s funny, because it’s been raining cats and dogs down here all week. But, the tide has officially turned; the seasons have finally changed… and SOMEBODY is reaping all of the benefits. Last week was, by far, the best week ever! The events of the past few days have been breathtaking, enthralling, nostalgic, inappropriate, profitable and deeply warming all at once.

Last Friday I came home and did nothing - just what I needed. After leaving work at around 8pm, I reached my sanctuary for an ultimate wind-down of TiVo, peace and quiet, and much needed rest. Saturday I awoke to the rain. It was just as peaceful as anyone knows Saturday morning rain to be. While I would have loved to lounge around, I had a full day ahead of me – and I was ready for it! I showered, dressed, grabbed my umbrella and headed downstairs just as Cece was pulling up to my apartment. She was extending a heartfelt “thank you” to one other friend and me for helping her through grad school over the past two years. We enjoyed coffee and a filling brunch at Parish – a New Orleans inspired restaurant complete with recipes, ambiance and hospitality that instantly transported us to the Deep South. We then headed to the spa for deep tissue massages and facials. My goodness. My massage was so relaxing that I had trouble getting up once the 50 minutes had passed. Oils, fragrances, kneading, rubbing and soothing music all synthesized to produce a relaxing, somewhat sensual experience that I’m still trying to recreate for myself. I have a few ideas of how I could accomplish this recreation… but perhaps I’ll just rely on the memory of the experience for now.

As we departed the spa, tipsy with wine and merry with laughter, we watched Black Thought of The Roots casually stroll past us to check into the hotel. I was giddy to see him, knowing that just a few short hours later he’d be on stage and I’d be in the crowd screaming his praises. He was doing a free concert with Common and other guests that night. I couldn’t wait.

The concert did not disappoint either. Amerie and Boyz to Men made guest appearances. Common oozed with raw sexuality and poetic genius. The Roots performed classic hits, freestyled new ones and created an impromptu jam session that felt endless. Free Hennessy was flowing (I’m now a fan of brown liquor) and I was finally feeling like my old self. It was magical. I partied with new friends I had made in the entry line… and danced with old friends I’d made over the past two years. I was beaming the entire night.

Sunday morning I picked up a few extra dollars babysitting, I headed to the gym to train for an upcoming 5K, shopped for groceries, quickly showered and then went to a local indie movie theater to see “The September Issue” with friends. I was completely in my element. It felt nice to have cash in my pocket instead of wallowing in the misery of being broke. The jog at the YMCA was rejuvenating. I had meals for the week, and I was en route to attend a cultural event rather than a blockbuster movie premiere. I’m not bashing the latter; I simply prefer the former.

The week that followed began with a much needed talk with Dionne to address and resolve some of our lingering friendship issues. It went well enough, and I believe we’ll be able to move forward from here. I was also able to secure free football tickets the non-profit where I volunteer. I got a free gas card in the mail. I learned about discounts at local car insurance agencies (my mom has OFFICIALLY cut me off; I am 100% independent now) and eventually secured a great rate with State Farm. I transferred a chunk of my debt to a 12-month, 0% interest credit card. I ran three outdoor miles with Cece. I kicked off Wednesday evening with a simple enough happy hour and wound up at an MC Battle/Talib Kweli concert (for the free)!! I (inappropriately) flirted and entertained a platonic male friend who keeps me smiling though he’s in a committed relationship. I babysat, earning myself more spare cash. I attended an annual HBCU Classic football game (courtesy of my phophyte). I raised funds for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society in honor of my mother. I organized my life. I reached a few goals. I smiled.

Hello, Autumn. It’s so nice to finally have you here.

Food 101

Linda says I’m mildly depressed.

For the past week, I’ve unconsciously begun to own that concept and it has slowly ruined the past ninety-six hours of my life. It really doesn’t matter what I do. I’ve been to the gym twice, I’ve been to two happy hours and I’ve partied with high school friends who were in town for the weekend (even cuddled on the couch with one after the evening’s festivities were over). I spent Saturday night at home watching Gossip Girl and crying over the mushy parts. I’ve been to church. I’ve re-gained my appetite. And yet, nothing is wholly cheering me up.

Linda encouraged me to get back to my “normal routine” though I haven’t lately felt motivated to do so. She reminded me that, after any stressful situation, it can be difficult to get back into the full swing of things. So, that’s where the aforementioned events have come into play. I’ve been forcing myself to do the after-work activities that I normally do. I can’t wait until it starts to make a difference.

I’m down. And, it’s not even rooted in the issues surrounding my mom, grandma, that boy, or work. I’m just in an inexplicable funk; a “mild depression.” It troubles me to even say those words aloud. What’s even more troubling is that the life that surrounds me – one that once offered solace and refuge – feels more like a different planet as each day passes. Not only is my parent fighting cancer, but so is everyone else’s! Corinne’s dad. Melanie’s granddad. Denise’s Mom. WTF? Since when is cancer the norm? Why is it so pervasive? And when, for the love of GOD, is everyone going to get better?

No one prepares us for these things. No high school or college courses prepare you for the pains of real life. Going to class and making good grades? Check. Joining student council and working part-time? Check. AP courses, college applications, French club, dance club and graduating with honors? Check, check, check, check, CHECK. Dealing with heartbreak… watching a parent’s health fail… juggling personal and professional trials and tribulations... Um. Good luck! There’s no manual. There are no guidelines. And if you don’t have faith, you’re essentially left with nothing. Luckily my parents provided me with a sound spiritual foundation. I know and believe that God will answer my prayers. Even still, learning to pray, relying on that which cannot be seen, and trusting that everything will turn out as it should is difficult to learn. The Sunday school teachers and pastor can be the best coaches imaginable – but it doesn’t guarantee that any of us will ever be fully equipped with the spiritual playbook we need.

Learning to trust the God within us… and listen to the calm, soothing voice that guides our feet – THAT is what we’re all working towards. Knowing that our peace is not rooted in things or relationships (even the ones we think we can’t let go of), but rests solely in our walk with God – THAT is what we’re all working towards. The world could take away ever THNG we own, and every PERSON we love. Does that mean we stop existing? Does that mean we stop going? Does that mean we give up? No. We place our trust, our faith, and hearts in God’s hands. We leave it to God. And unfortunately, it takes life lessons to reach that point. It requires knowledge acquired inside and outside of the classroom.

Learning how to handle life, in essence, means learning how to live it. Just as toddlers learn to walk – slowly, pacing themselves with one foot in front of the other – we learn to live. We begin slowly. We make mistakes. We encounter obstacles. We fall down, but we get back up. If a toddler stopped trying to walk the first time it encountered defeat, it would crawl forever. Who can imagine a life like that? For that very reason, we must accept the challenges life presents to us and consciously move forward, no matter what new days may bring. We must keep going – though we sometimes feel as though we’re completely unprepared for everything being thrown at us. We must take things in stride. Grieve when we have to. Let go of the things we want and trust that we’ll always have exactly what we need. We’ll have to work; sometimes we’ll have to cry. We will keep trying. We will fall. We’ll stand back up…

Know that everything works out in the end. If it hasn’t

Oh Well

What you did to me
Made me see myself something different
Though I try to talk sense to myself
But I just won't listen

Won't you go away, turn yourself in
You're no good at confession
Before the image that you burned me in
Tries to teach you a lesson

What you did to me
Made me see myself somethin' awful
A voice once stentorian is now again
Meek and muffled

It took me such a long time to get back up the first time you did it
I spent all I had to get it back, and now it seems I've been outbidded

My peace and quiet was stolen from me
When I was looking with calm affection
You were searching out my imperfections

What wasted unconditional love
On somebody who doesn't believe in the stuff

You came upon me like a hypnic jerk
When I was just about settled
And when it counts you recoil
With a cryptic word and leave a love belittled

Oh what a cold and common old way to go
I was feeding on the need for you to know me
Devastated at the rate you fell below me

What wasted unconditional love
On somebodyWho doesn't believe in the stuff
Oh, well

Symptoms of Progress

It's interesting how progress can be so uncomfortable. So... uneasy. So un-easy. And yet, progress is freeing. It's liberating. It's fulfilling.

The drive home is always therapeutic for me. I can zone out, blast my iPod, and breathe easy. Heading home is centering because I know I'll soon be surrounded by people who love me unconditionally. There are no expectations of me, either. No one needs help with anything... except Paris, who needed help moving into her dorm. I don't have to cook - Mom and Dad still do that. No one needs to be taken out - Daddy takes ME out. I don't feel guilty about sitting around the house instead of going out and partying. I go to bed early and I wake up late. The phone doesn't interrupt my thoughts. I don't have to report in to anyone. There are no project deadlines. I can talk about myself endlessly without feeling self-conscious of self-absorbed. I can be honest. I can try and sort out my future with my parents, and know they'll offer guidance with ONLY my best interests at heart. I'm not obligated to say or do anything out of friendship, political correctness or standard networking practices. I'm not compelled to conform. I can be myself - the person I am when no one else is looking - and not feel bad about it. There really is no place like home.

The drive, however, is such a huge portion of the trip, that it takes on a life of it's own. It's as much a part of the trip as my actual destination. I can usually make it in 5 hours from door to door on a good day (with no paroling cops) or a maximum of 7 hours in traffic, with stops, and lots of police officers along the interstate. The music sets the tone. Fiona Apple is a favorite.

This woman is so beautifully intense. I remember in high school feeling a pure and real connection with her words, her music and her style. Even though at the time, I couldn't fully process what she was saying, and I couldn't really relate to her story, I understood. And now that I DO understand, and CAN relate, it feels that much more real. To endure hardships and remain standing really is a powerful and striking feat. Her eloquence amongst heart aching stories is what stands out the most. She captures the rawness of her emotions in heavy, layered, brutal but beautiful poems. Some are silly with a light undertone. Others drench you with tears, disbelief and depression. But she tells the complete story. She speaks of her triumphs and failures. She shakes some off; she carries others with her. Above all, she remains true to herself - unashamed... unabashed... bold. I love her for that.

When I traveled home in June, I couldn't stop crying. Every other song in the shuffle playlist had me in tears. Each song triggered a new pain. Each song triggered a reminder. Each song spoke a new truth. Friday's voyage evoked the same emotions, but solicited no tears. I smiled as I sang my heart out. I felt empowered by the fact that, little by little, I had moved beyond that stage of the grieving process. And, I marvel at the fact that I feel more "whole" because of it. I can empathize with her anguish. I can smile now, though just few months ago I felt incredibly wronged. I can breathe again.

The true test unveiled itself when "Oh Well" began to play. The opening chords stirred something in me as soon as I heard them. I inhaled deeply and began to sing... sans tears... loudly. I made it through the whole song.

I made it through the whole song... to the perfect summation:

What wasted unconditional love,
On somebody who doesn't believe in the stuff
Oh Well

Notes to God, III

Hi God,

::sighs:: I've been given a cumbersome load this summer. And, now that the seasons are changing, I'm reflecting on how I handled everything. I would say I did okay. I grew closer to you. I made some mistakes. I learned. I matured. I moved forward. But this weekend presented a new test... and I'm not sure why I needed to go through it. Perhaps my "street smarts" are not up to par with my "book smarts" but I'm not sure why I needed to be tested on those strengths just now? Not questioning you... just throwing that out there.

Friday was hectic to say the least. I woke up late, which meant I was late for my follow-up appointment with the doctor. I was having blood work done and getting a Tetanus Booster shot. Running late to that appointment made me late to my 9:30 meeting at work. That was just annoying. My manager understood and told me my health came first, which I appreciated. But DAMN. Why couldn't I have just gotten out of bed 30 minutes earlier? SMH.

I needed to go back home during lunch and straighten up my apartment. My cousins were going to be staying at my place while I ventured home to see Mom. The keys that I'd had made at Home Depot didn't work (again!) so they would be using my one and only key. I wanted everything to be perfect when they arrived, so I was exhausting myself to get things in order.

Rushed back to work to finish up a project that was due by EOD. Sped BACK home to meet my cousins, pass along the house key, and get on the road for my 6 hour trek to NC. I stopped at a gas station when a man stopped me to inquire about the dent above my right passenger wheel (from where I got hit a few months back). Interestingly enough, someone had stopped me about a week or so ago to ask about the very same dent, offering immediate assistance & repair... for a mere $400. Right. No thank you. Well this young, non-African American minority wanted to fix the dent as well for only $300! Now, I had just gotten paid, but I knew that was too much money to spend on a repair... especially in the parking lot of a gas station.

So, I pulled over to hear his pitch, and before I knew what was happening, he had jumped out of the car, was spackling little Jada with some green goo, and was hammering, prying and shaping the dent without my formal consent. He put the special goo all over the car really, telling me he'd get all of the smaller scratches/dents out for no extra cost. "I don't have $300," I said. "Whatever you can spare ma'am, God bless you," he replied.

I peered in his back seat and saw a young girl sitting there. His daughter, maybe? And sheesh, it was so hot outside. Was he really this desperate for cash? To stop me at a GAS STATION and perform an odd job on a whim? It was sketchy, I'll admit. But, why had so many men been asking me about this measly dent on my car? It wasn't impairing my driving. Why did they care?

Because I was an easy mark. I called three men in my life to ask what I should REALLY pay for the service this man was providing. He told me the "goo" needed to sit on my car for a few hours... to fully get the scratches out... and to protect the paint. So, I couldn't actually see how well he had repaired my car. My dad told me to pay the dude $50. My brother said $150. My cousin said "as close to $300 as I felt comfortable".

I should have listened to Daddy. I've been trying to get this stupid green gunk off my car for the past two days. After a few minor attempts I could see that the scavenging hustler lied to my face about every single "service" he was doing. The dent above my right passenger wheel is admittedly gone - but it still looks a hot mess. The scratch on the rear drivers side is still there - blatantly. The small scratches haven't disappeared. I'm upset about it. Why was he allowed to take advantage of me like that?

I didn't give him $300 like he asked. But I gave him more than $50! What's disappointing is that the money I spent was a nice chunk of the bonus from the hellish project I labored over this summer. That was MY hard-earned money. Gone. And this is the second time in one season a man has pulled the blinds over my eyes, sold me a dream, and left me with nothing. I'm tired of people taking advantage of me. Why does this keep happening.

I've been trying to process the whole series of events, and have decided I can feel one of two ways: 1. Glad I only spent the amount I did; appreciative of a lesson learned (albeit somewhat pricey); and hopeful that the money I gave him will go towards something worthwhile - like food or school materials for the daughter who was sitting in the backseat. 2. I could be pissed.

Obviously I'm going with the former, though the latter is still lingering in my brain. I'm pissed, man. That money was supposed to go towards my new David Yurman bracelet... or my upcoming GMAT class. Geez. That man got me on the okie-doke. I got "got". And I have no contact information for him... no nothing. I guess I was just so eager to finally have my car fixed... and happy to finally be able to afford it (even if it was in the parking lot of a QuikTrip). Now I'm out of money with nothing to show for it. I hope that man is enjoying his win.

So, I guess, God, I'm just wondering why that was necessary. Maybe he needed the money more than I needed a bracelet? Maybe you wanted to show me that I can't trust everyone. I really wanted to see the good in this guy, you know? I wanted to believe that he was doing something right; something positive. Trying to see the "good" in everyone sometimes gets me in trouble, however. It gets my feelings hurt. I can't always champion that glimmer of "goodness" into a personality trait. A glimpse of goodness does not a "good person" make. And, that makes sense. It sucks. But, it makes sense.

Thanks, God. Love you.

Are You Happy Now?

You know what else gets me? The fact that he's able to be happy without me in his life. That's a little narcissistic, no? But the idea that he could be truly perplexes me. How can he begin a new life without me in it, and honestly be happy? I haven't fully been able to re-start mine without him, and on most days, I'm pretty miserable. I'm confident that one day (soon, I hope) I'll be able to pick up those last pieces and start to march on again. But in the meantime, my only consistent thoughts have been of him. I wonder if he ever thinks of me? I wonder how often. And are they angry thoughts? Or, are they occasionally sad, remorseful, wistful, and/or depressing? I may never know.

How is it that some people are able to move on so quickly? Rapidly jumping from one relationship to another without any room to breathe or process what is happening in the midst of all of it? Can you honestly fall that hard, that fast? How is that possible? And, does it occur to you that you're hurting others in the process? Do you care about that at all? Does it even phase you? ::sighs::

Are you actually happy? Seriously? I'd really like to know.

The Root of All Evil

My last few posts have been angry, but therapeutic. I'm going to keep the momentum going.

I'm very angry. It's like carrying a boulder with me every day. As soon as I wake up in the morning... I groggily strap it onto my back. Some mornings when I wake up - free from all troubling thoughts - I smile to myself, proudly, thinking "see, you're not thinking about you-know-what." And then, the clouds overpower those last glimmers of sunlight, the shower feels a little less cleansing, my smile disappears, I hang my head... Damnit. Another long day.

I met a really nice woman named Linda, who's been helping me out a lot. Our conversations are always very candid, and she's always so supportive. Even she can hear the anger in my voice... sometimes when I don't even intend for (or realize) it to be there. She pushes me to find the source of that anger. I mean, of course anyone in my shoes would be angry. But, there is a root. There is a source. And when I find it, after peeling back all of those "angry layers" I might actually start to make real strides towards healing. That would be nice.

Maybe the source is me choosing to ever deal with him in the first place? Maybe I'm angry that I let him drag me through senior year - feeling the highest of highs, and lowest of lows - especially when all I ever wanted from him was a post-pledging, springtime fling? Yeah. I entertained him when he pursued me thereafter. Why wouldn't I? I had already put my cards on the table. I didn't or need anything else from him at the time. Perhaps that intrigued him. Perhaps it offended him. It likely did both. Regardless, why was I the one who had to pay the price for his frail ego? Where did that become my problem?

Maybe I'm angry that I answered the phone in February of 2008. And talked with him for 5 hours... listening to his problems, helping where I could, laughing to ease the tension, letting my guard down in hopes of getting my friend back. Maybe I shouldn't have done that.

Maybe the source is that I didn't read the signs all along the way.
"Hello. He is no good for you. Leave him alone."
"Yield."
"Please, he's sleeping with someone else now... move on."
"Dummy - he's just not that into you."
"He's being mean again... stop dealing with him."
"This will never work out."
"He lied about that, too."
"He's done this to other girls before."
"STOP."
"STOP."
"STOP."

Linda finds it interesting that I always look inside first. "You always ask yourself what YOU did wrong, first?" she said - half inquiring/half stating a fact. "Yeah," I replied. "Are you able to hold others accountable when they've done something wrong?" she asked. "Yes!" I said. But it is, indeed interesting that I always manage to bear a disproportionate amount of the burden. I wonder how many other people do that?

Maybe HE'S the source; the root. Maybe it's all his fault, and I have nothing to be ashamed of; nothing to apologize for. Because he chooses not to bear a burden does not mean he's not at fault. "It seems to me, that this is more about him, than anything," said Linda. "It seems as though he has trouble in committed relationships. He's always dating someone - never for long - and moving on to the next girl rather quickly. He may just have intimacy issues. And, that does not speak to you one bit," she commented, in her soft, soothing voice. That thought relaxes me. His inability to fully engage in committed, intimate, real relationships has nothing to do with me.

His new relationship which has been built on hollow, superficial ground with an unsteady, rocky foundation, therefore, is bound to fail... which also has nothing to do with me... but that thought relaxes me as well.

"I'm free to let go of this whenever I choose," I say to myself each morning. I say it in the car too. And, at my desk. At the gym. At dinner. When I'm falling asleep to Conan O'Brien.

"Whenever I choose..."

Not an "Option"

I am more than a late-night, creep-through, taboo, kiss-but-don't-tell OPTION.

I am beautiful. I am confident. I have my shit together (for the most part). I'm smart. I'm capable. And, I deserve to be treated that way.

I am TIRED of men living lives where they have their cake and eat it too. If you know I'm in town, and you know you want to see me, and you're considering you might want to have a slumber party, DO NOT have guests over at your house until 3:00 am, and think I'll leave and come back to "kick it". You have lost your mind. You should have thought that through before XBox live became the center of your attention for three hours. You should have thought that through before two other girls walked through your door while I was sitting there. You should have thought that through when I announced, LOUDLY, that I was about to leave at 2:30 am. You should have kicked everyone else out.

But no, you let me leave, and asked if I'd come back in 45 minutes. Two years ago, the answer would have been "yes" hands down, because I was thirsty. I loved attention and affection and I did a lot to get it. If a certain someone had asked me the same question five months ago, I would have obliged because I was blinded by what I thought was love. And, maybe it was love... but I'm not in that place or frame-of-mind anymore. If you want my time, you need to act like it. Regardless of whether or not our relationship is "casual" I am not to be treated casually. When you appeared to be "playing it cool" you were really just playing yourself. Step your game up.

WHEW. If I have learned anything it is this: people will treat you exactly the way you let them. I'm no longer the cute puppy dog salivating at the chance for late night encounters. I have new perspective. I have higher standards. I have learned how to make myself happy when nobody else is around. I don't need this bullshit.

Is it too demanding for me to ask that you end prior engagements at a respectable hour so that we can spend quality time together? No. This is not college, and I am not your groupie. I'm not "hanging out" until everyone leaves or falls asleep on your couch. I am grown, and so are you. Maybe I'm just a little bit farther down the road... I'm not concerned with what you did last night or what you're doing tomorrow. All I know is, if you think something is happening between us tonight, it needs to be made a priority. I'm not some afterthought for when Madden grows old. Get it together.

Bundle of Nerves

I'm a bundle of nerves.

I traveled to NY this weekend with a host of plans on my plate. My linesister was celebrating her engagement Saturday night with a small group of family and friends. I figured if I was going to go up and visit her and see NY friends, I might as well take an additional day or two to visit potential MBA programs.

A week before my scheduled departure, however, something tragic happened. A dear friend of mine from school lost his mother in a car accident. My friend - a grad student studying film - was awaiting his parents' arrival for a film festival the grad program was hosting that weekend. En route, a nearby car caught a flat tire, lost control of the car, swerved and pushed my friend's parents into oncoming traffic... causing his father severe injuries, and his mother... death.

This caused me to re-evaluate my plans. I wanted to be in Virginia for the funeral service. And, judging by the timing, it looked as though I would be able to be. I'd have to miss the engagement party, but I was okay with that. Unfortunately, one grave issue was holding me back. Though relatively insignificant, seeing as how we were dealing with death, I wasn't sure I was emotionally prepared to be in the same room (or same car!) as the boy. Yes. He would surely be there. Our mutual friend happened to be the boy's fraternity linebrother. A friend of ours was driving from NY to VA. There was room in the car. He was definitely going.

::sighs:: That sparks a lot of anger within me. A lot. I'm getting heated just typing this. I was trying to use the month of August as a purge. I was going to divorce myself from there mere mention of his name; divorce myself from the thought of him; divorce myself from social networking sites where I might catch a glimpse of what he was doing. But, I needed advice. Should I go to the funeral and risk my own hurt feelings? Or, proceed with the original plan, and show my friend my support some other way?

The fact that I even need to have this internal debate and external search for answers is troubling. Why is this man STILL dictating how I live my life? Why can't I bear to be around him? Why am I continuing to let him affect my decisions? Enough already!! Ugh. Hearing his name this weekend has been enough to make me crazy. I just want him out of my life forever.

And yet, I find myself hoping I'll see him? I'm not sure if I mentioned this before, but he moved to New York to be with his new girlfriend. Evidently, it's that serious. He doesn't have a job. And I know from previous experience that he doesn't have much money... but he has her. And being with her is enough of a reason for him to relocate and build a new life in NYC. How nice.

I had the opportunity to distract myself last night... with Lewis. Lewis lives with the two friends that had driven to VA - with the boy - for the funeral. I knew they would be back in the wee hours of the morning, and that I could have a potentially awkward interaction with them depending upon the hour at which I was coming or going. It could have been blissful - I could have seen the boy, at 4:00 am, and really hurt his feelings. Or, he could have shrugged me off, and hurt mine - again.

See what I mean? Everything I do revolves around him? Annoying. So, I didn't stay... partially because Lewis was playing mad games. I walked over to his house after kicking it with some of my linesisters to find a little video game party at the house. Who invited them? And, there were more girls on the way? Oh, word? I don't have time for this. I ate my McDonald's, chatted with the guests, and by 2:30 am I was ready to peace out. So, while we're sitting together on the couch, and I'm slipping my shoes back on, he starts texting me like "where are you going... you should just stay." More on that later.

I'm angry, and sad, and disappointed that I couldn't go to the funeral. I'm angry that I even still care what that boy is doing with his life. I'm irritated that I want to see him - or moreso that I want HIM to see ME. Get out of my head... Go.

Hopefully these business school visits will be fulfilling tomorrow and Tuesday. I have a bright future to look forward to. A future that does not - by any stretch of the imagination - include him. I'm taking it one day at a time. One foot in front of the other. Slowly but surely. ::tears:: Why the fuck is it taking so. damn. long?

Beyond the World of Coca-Cola

Two weekends ago I took Ruby to the World of Coca-Cola. She was in awe of the enormity of the building, the plethora of Coke products, the interactivity of various rooms/documentaries, and the notion that I’d buy her something at the gift shop. “You’re nice,” she commented. However, throughout our outing, I found myself continuing to correct her grammar, and offer etiquette advice wherever possible. “It’s ‘I went’ not ‘I had went,’” I’d chide. “Say ‘excuse me’ when you bump into someone,” I’d say. I felt like the girl’s mother. But, that’s what I’m here for. You know? This is what I signed up for.

To compel her to really work on correct grammar, I tried to make a game out of it. “If I say ‘I had went to the store when your mom called,’ what’s wrong with that sentence?” I asked. “You should say ‘I had gone,’” Ruby replied. “Good!” I’d exclaim. “You’re getting it!” But once we resumed our normal conversation she’d resort to her old, improper grammatical ways. How frustrating.

Anywho, I drove her home (after having reminded her mother I had plans at 7:00 pm) stopping at Checker’s on the way back. Can I tell you that Checker’s has not ONE mention of a vegetable of ANY KIND on their menu? None. “I want a chili dog and a soda,” she said. ::sighs:: “You know my rule,” I replied, “when you eat with me you have to get a vegetable.” So we drove across the street to Church’s to get her some coleslaw. Now, I know I can be a bit bossy. So I really made an effort to soften my tone as I explained my rationale to her. “Do you know why it’s important to eat healthy?” I asked. “Umm… so you have strong bones?” she replied, meekly. “Why else?” “Um. So you can be strong and live a long time…?” she squeaked.

“Does anyone in your family talk about high blood pressure?” She nodded. “Sugar? Does anybody talk about having ‘sugar’?” Nods again. “Those things are a result of not eating right. I talk to you about what you eat because I care about you. I want you to grow up and be strong and healthy. That’s also why I correct your grammar all the time. I want to you graduate from high school, go to a good college and be successful. But it’s important that you remember these things even when I’m not around, okay? When you’re by yourself, try to choose foods that are good for you. And try to remember what we talked about in terms of grammar. What did you have for breakfast today?”

“Nothing,” she said. Wait a minute. She had to have eaten SOMETHING. “You didn’t eat ANYTHING?” I prod. She shakes her head. Bless her heart. This ten year old girl gets one meal a day from a parent who clearly is not educating her on the importance of a balanced meal. It’s not her fault. She just wants a hot dog! Ten year olds like hot dogs. Maybe it’s a lack of money. Maybe it’s a lack of education. Likely, it’s both. All I can do is my part to help. I’m trying.

Notes to God, II

Dear God,

Thank you so much. Thank you for allowing me to find the positive – the single aesthetic – in every situation I have encountered over the past few months. Thank you for a trying summer and for providing shoulders to lean on. Thank you for opening my eyes to the hard realities of life and the world. Thank you for blessing me in the midst of it; for picking me up when I felt completely beaten and defeated. Thank you for providing listening ears and non-judgmental hearts. Thanks for letting me know that I’m not alone.

I’m taking my final in Microeconomics today, and Lord you know I am not prepared. I have yet to even finish reading a few of the chapters on a final exam that is only hours away. But I thank you for reminding me that this is not the end of the world. I am not in high school depending on a college scholarship. I am not in college trying to hold on to a scholarship. I am a post-baccalaureate student who, per the recommendation of her dream school’s recruiter, decided to show initiative and enroll in a business course. I am a young woman who faced a number of changes and challenges over the course of the summer, and thus could not focus wholeheartedly on the content of the class. I am an adult who sought to learn something about economics as opposed to fulfilling a college prerequisite. And, being the perfectionist that I am, I would have loved to have earned an “A”. But, I was tested multiple times this summer outside of the classroom. So, if I do poorly on the class final, I’ll be okay with that. Because You, Lord, allowed me to pass my personal summer test...

Perhaps that’s the reason I’m unable to focus enough to study. I feel as though I have already crossed the finish line. I feel like I have overcome the last hurdle… at least for a little while. Work has finally simmered down. I’m making peace with the loss of my friend. I’m building a harmonious and rock-steady relationship with my mother. I’m re-evaluating what I want to do with my life, and coming to some fascinating and exciting conclusions. I’m unlocking so much potential. Thank you, God, for shining down your wisdom through the storm that had enveloped me for so long.

I cannot wait to begin the rest of my life! Today is a new day. And, though it is physically raining outside, I feel brighter internally. I met with someone yesterday who really brought new perspective to everything that has been troubling me. Her name is Linda. She listened to me go on and on about my problems… never judging, never impatient. She brought me to realizations that I may not have reached otherwise. God, thank you for placing her in my life, and giving me the courage to fully open up so that I may resolve whatever else is plaguing me.

I came in the morning and finally organized my cube. It’s now full of pictures, knick-knacks, plants and new Ikea furniture. It feels warm and bright. It feels like home. It no longer feels like a stressful place for day-dwelling… but more like a comfortable spot where I happen to work. What a difference perspective makes. Thank you.

Thank you also for dear friends like Anisa and Cece who have allowed me to figure things out by talking, not talking, crying, listening, laughing and the like. And, if they ever grew tired of hearing me vent, thank you for having them listen to me anyway. Good friends are like rocks. They will carry some burdens with you, even when they don’t have to. They’re immobile when it comes to their friends, always staying down for the cause. They’re easy to lean on, and yet never too heavy to pick up. Thank you for blessing me with the RIGHT people in my life.

God, please give me the tenacity and drive to study for this final. I know I have “work” to do, but you have already removed two meetings from my afternoon schedule, proving that I could really learn this material (cramming it in, no doubt) if I really wanted to. ::sighs:: Fine. Fine. Fine. I’ll duck out into an empty cube with this dense textbook and attempt to learn the last few chapters of the text.

You have blessed me so, so much. I couldn’t tell it all, even if I tried. Thank you.


Amen.

Clairvoyance

What the fuck have I been doing for the past four years?

After many internal conversations, much agonizing, countless tears and circling conversations, I have reached a timeless conclusion – one I end at repeatedly – I’m over it. I’m not necessarily “over it” in the sense that I’m over The Boy… because, though I should be, I’m not quite there. And not “over” all relationships… because I feel as though I’m actually pretty close to being ready for a real one. I’m over the grown-up childishness of having a “boo,” or “talking” to someone, or endless “dating” with no real future. I’m over laughing at derogatory jokes about women. I’m over misogynistic hip-hop lyrics. I’m over our over-sexed society. I’m over black men who cannot commit. I’m over black men who CAN commit, and only refuse to do so with “the boo”. I’m over jump-offs. I’m over casual sex (for the most part). I’m over “playing it cool” to score points with someone who probably doesn’t deserve the 15 minutes of time I’m willing to spend.

I’m over late night conversations that won't ever see the dawn of a new day. I’m over cutesy text messages with no real purpose. I’m over men who say one thing and mean another. It’s all so silly. I’m over sucking it up for the sake of “what if” and “maybe later”. I’m over sacrificing my wants and needs for those of others. I’m over the game.

The pain I have endured over the past three months (disproportionately as a result of my dealings with this whore-boy) has taught me so, so much. Not only do I realize what I can put up with versus what I will put up with, but I appreciate that I don’t HAVE to put up with shit. I can do bad all by myself. I can date outside of my race. I can achieve happiness being alone. Purely physical relationships tend to get me in trouble anyway. And for what? What is fulfilling about a casual encounter? Where is the love in any of that? When is the last time I WAS in love? When will I find it again?

Granted, I’m being built into a better me. God is really working some magic this summer. And, while it hurts like hell, I KNOW it is for the best. I do not doubt it for one second. But, I’ve been chastising myself for my “number”. Not in a holier-than-thou religious sense, but in a perfectionist you-know-you-know-better sense. Why did add those worthless “notches”? Who even CARES about some of these dudes?! I get so angry.

I’m not bitter. I’m refreshed, actually.

Clairvoyant.

High.

How sweet is the realization that substantive relationships are attainable, and real, and well-deserved? Hell no, I don’t have to settle for a non-committal sociopath. I could actually meet someone amazing! Someone older. Someone mature. Someone grounded. I could test these fragile and somewhat hardened wings again… soaring over the disgust and contempt I once felt for he who shall forever remain nameless. I will rise above it. There is someone out there with whom I’m more compatible and more equally yoked. Maybe he’s sitting at a corner Starbucks reading today’s Post. Maybe he’s buying a new mixtape at Moods Records in L5P. Maybe he’s working late nights, grinding, just like me. Maybe…

I know it’s not time for me to meet him yet – because, like I said, I’m not there yet. My head is still jumbled with fleeting thoughts of The Boy. My heart is still reeling from the petty, but hurtful email war with the GF. She made me feel small. She chastised me for mistakes I know I should have never made. She gutted me. Yanked me by my roots and tossed me aside. And, though their foundation is unsteady – built upon lies, and backstabbing, and false realities – it doesn’t involve me. Though I cringe as I reflect upon her words, and secretly continue to plot against her… their present does not involve me. I don’t even care about the two of them together. I care that I was and continue to be affected by her sharp and pervasive WORDS. Sticks and stones… I know… but still.

I still have a few more things to learn. I still have a few more miles to go. I still have some rebuilding to do. My mom has some more wisdom to share. My heart has some mending to bear. I have a few more tears, I think. A few more prayers… Some kinks to iron out. I’ll get there. I’m not too worried about it… I’m just disappointed about those four frivolous years: dealing with him, rebounding from him, forgetting about him, remembering him, spiting him, reconnecting with him, believing him, ignoring him, trusting him, and burying him... for good. I used men as tools during the rebound years to make myself feel better. Or, to make him feel worse… To numb college heartache... To satisfy drunken curiosity... None of it seems to have meant anything now. None of it seems relevant. None of it seems useful. So, why’d I do it?! And, why did I let it go this far?

What the fuck have I been doing for the past four years?

A Sad New Sorority

Last night, I talked with friends from college that I rarely speak with. Of course, the nature of the conversation centered around the boy. As I shared "my side" of the story, I was met with comments ranging from "girl, let me tell you what happened to me!" and "girl, I can completely relate!" And, while a huge chunk of me is appreciative that I'm not the only person who has to endure utter and complete mess on occasion, it saddens me to know that everyone else is dealing with the same trifling-ass n!ggas too.

Why?

What is it about our alma mater, our community, and our society that allows men to trample all over us? Does it begin when we settle for less? When we settle for a non-title when we know we deserve one? When we turn a blind eye to his flirting because we're "just friends" and he's not really hurting anyone? How about when we let a handful of lies slide because we ultimately know what the truth is and "it's not really that big of a deal". We let these problems escalate. I know I did at least. And what about those instances when we ignore our gut? A woman's intuition is a powerful thing. I need to learn to let mine guide me and stop second-guessing every thing she brings to light.

Why, when one of our girls is sad, do we try to top each other with painful stories of how we've been done wrong? Yes, it's funny to us, and it brightens our mood, because the stories are so incredibly ridiculous! He has a child that you didn't know about? He has impregnated his baby mama AGAIN? He got a girlfriend WHILE y'all were talking? (Hand raised - me too!) He tried to talk to you knowing he was in a relationship? He let you go tit-for-tat with his girl and stood on the sidelines blameless? He's MARRIED?! What the ham sandwich is going on in the world? These things are not okay! It's not okay. And, I would say "women, we have to do better" but a lot of my girls who experience these things are innocent in the situation. They were led to believe in a false reality. They were sold dreams... and devastated to wake up from them.

I will admit, I fell asleep smiling last night. I learned some new facts about the GF that gave me brand new perspective. Ol' girl had just gotten out of a relationship when she and The Boy started one. Rebounding asses. They deserve each other. She has also been described (objectively) as immature, boy-crazy, a girly-girl, thirsty for attention but otherwise "cool". "She seems cool," is what I keep hearing. Okay.

Whatever. I'm not mad at her. Though her nasty emails are what warranted this investigation, I'm luckily too swamped with work to continue to worry about her. But HIM. SMH. I can only imagine what is in store for him. It's not my battle. I know. He's in my past. I don't need to worry about him. I need to let him go... don't lecture me, I know these things.

I'm just saying. Membership in the "He Did Me Wrong" Sorority is too costly. Who wants to join such a sad little organization anyway? Problem is, once you express interest in a deadbeat man (knowingly or unknowingly), you have no way to predict your dues. It could cost you a year of your life... maybe four... maybe more. Praise God for the day when you can call the situation a "lesson learned" and begin to move on with your life.... offering sound words of advice to the neophytes as they join. I'll thank God that my haze is over. I'm still reeling from Hell Night, but who in their sound mind would ever go back and RE-DO Hell Night? I think not.

I'm a member! Woo-hoo. Paid in full. What is the next step? Hm? Let me find some Sorority elders and ask them. There's no use in joining anything if you can't network and learn from others... so "helloooooooo... what's next?" Sisterly relations? Regionals? National Conference?

I guess Sisterly Relations would be the "I-Can-Top-That" stories shared over late night phone calls saturated with wine. Regionals are the weekend vacays where you and your girls share updates. Nationals, in my case, equals Homecoming, where we're confronted with many of the men who DID us wrong, and we're forced to look, feel and be FLYER THAN EVER so that those same raggedy-ass dudes can cry themselves to sleep at night when they reflect upon their dumbass decisions that caused us to end all ties. For them, I imagine it feels like when a recovering alcoholic is confronted with a Vodka Tonic after however many months of sobriety. Kill yourself.

I'm not proud to be a member, but I'm glad to have such great sisters. Warm. Understanding. Non-judgemental. Funny. Sensitive. Real.

::sighs:: I'll ask again - what's next?

A Hug for Myself

Well. I decided to let it go. The saga that I started by sending an anonymous email has finally ended by my letting the GF have the last word. She was infuriating in her first email to me, and after I responded, her follow-up was condescending and downright rude. But you know what, had someone come at me that way, I'm not sure I would have reacted differently. What's trifling is that he let her do it. He provided ammunition and obscured me to be the villain; the psychotic ex; the groupie; the jump off; the silly girl who couldn't let it go.

My friends have been comforting to me - each in their own way. But, no one has been in my shoes, or felt what I'm feeling. I cannot honestly expect to get a sound word out of advice from any of them. People cannot give what they don't have.

So, if I were my friend, this is what I would say to myself:

[HUGE BEAR HUG] "Girl. I know. I know... let it out. You never thought it would come to this, right? I know. It's okay. Let it out.

You deserve so much better. And I'm not saying that to be cliche or because you're my girl. I'm saying it because it's true. Look at him. Really, see him for who he is. He has never made an effort to put a title on your relationship. He has never defended you or stood up for you in this situation or any other. In college, when girls were staring at you crazy, he LET that happen. Now, he has forwarded all of your email addresses to his new girlfriend. He is not standing up for you. He is lying about you, dragging your name through the mud, and ruining your reputation. I know it's difficult to let it go. I know it is. But you can't continue to feed the beast. It will only escalate. You have to be the one to put an end to it - even if it's a passive end.

Do you see the way he looks at her? The way he introduces her? The way he references her? He never did that for you. Ever. And you deserve that from someone. You do. Someone who DOES have a job. Someone who DOES have a career path. Someone with money in the bank. Someone who is honest. Someone with goals. The man you deserve respects women. He doesn't indulge in drama. He doesn't treat people like "things". He respects feelings. His word is his bond. He listens. He cares. He's selfless. He's mature. He's handsome. He's humble. He's thoughtful. He's well traveled. He's well read. He's gentle. He will compliment you perfectly.

He won't lie about who you are, how he feels about you, how he felt about you, or the status of your relationship. He won't deny your past because it's convenient for his present. He won't drop you for something shiny and new. He won't remain silent as others attack you. He won't put you in emotionally draining situations.

He will admire you. He will build you up. He will catch you when you fall. He will honor you. He will trust you. He will earn your trust. He will respect you. He will love you. He will LOVE you.

[Rubbing back] You will get through this. I know it's hard. I know you're disappointed, and frustrated, and confused. I know you're hurt. I KNOW you're hurt. And I know it feels like God is looking over you... passing you by. But He is not. Maybe THIS is what it would take for you to finally cut that negative man out of your life. Maybe the 2nd, 5th, 9th and 15th times were not enough. But the great thing about God is that He is patient and understanding. Before you even met that boy, God knew what the outcome would be - and He knew how long it would take for you to learn your lesson. So praise God that the time has finally come. Move forward. Clear you heart of all anguish and pain. Clear you heart of all turmoil. Pray for forgiveness of self. Forgive the very one who has caused you this pain. Move forward. You will need a clean heart and a renewed spirit for the Love that God has in store for you. You will need energy, and humility and room for Love. If you remain bitter and heartbroken, there will be no room for the joys that your future love has to offer.

Make peace with this. Take your time... but know that as soon as this chapter is over, you can begin the next one. It is up to you how long that will take. He treated you badly, and that was wrong. But YOU cannot fix his heart. YOU cannot win this war. Sending emails and trying to explain the situation to her are futile efforts. Being catty and snide in response to her is childish. He has already won her trust. And she is clearly blinded by, eh, whatever it is they have for each other. You cannot direct this show. You cannot control the next moves. Know this though - he will pay for what he has done. Your email war with this girl, and heart wrenching sadness, and sleepless nights, and daily agonizing, and persistent headaches, and loss of appetite, and endless soul searching are your penance. You have surely gained what you needed from this situation and God knows how sorry you are. You made decisions - some good, some bad - and have paid the price for them. Move forward. Leave him behind. Grow. Open you heart for what God has in store.

I love you. And there's nothing you can do to ever make me stop loving you. You are a beautiful person, and it pains me to see you go through this. I'm so sorry that there's nothing more that I can do. But you are a strong person. You are resilient. You deserve more. And, more is on the way. Leave him behind. Love yourself enough to leave him behind. Love yourself enough to ignore her rude comments. Love yourself enough to leave both of them in their places - in your rearview mirror. Move forward."

::sighs:: Deep breaths. He told her I was a jump off. He has implied that I mean/meant nothing to him. I know what I did was fucked up, and I apologize for that. I sincerely do. I don't feel the need to say that directly to either of them - but I will send that sentiment into the universe. I am remorseful. I have learned not to let my emotions get the best of me. I have also learned not to let a man have the best of me - particularly when he is a slimy, manipulative, self-serving, lying-ass, backstabbing, insecure, immature, ego-maniacal pig.

That felt nice.

[Bear hug for myself]

God makes all things new and I will follow Him FORWARD.

My Work E-Mail?

So. Awhile ago I did something silly. I'll admit it was slightly psychotic, but whatever. Sometimes people will push you places. I sent the new GF an email detailing all of the ups and downs of my "relationship" with the boy. The only catch - I sent it from a fake e-mail address. Fun, right? Nice and dramatic.

Time passed, he withdrew his business from my company. He and I exchanged choice words via email, gchat, what have you. I was making progress in my life, learning to live without him, juggling the multiple work stresses and stresses from back at home... I was doing okay.

In a conversation with Dionne the other day, however, she revealed that he had been treating her "weird" in the past months. She didn't know about the email, but once I explained the situation to her, she said things began to make sense. No wonder he had been rude and stand-offish with her in social settings. He thought SHE was the one who sent the cold and somewhat out-of-line email. ::sighs::

Out of loyalty to her, I broke my two-month silence with the boy, notifying him that it was I who sent the email. He needed to keep Dionne out of it. Well, that was a terrible move. Within hours, I received an email from his GF - sent directly to my two google accounts and my work email. MY WORK EMAIL.

Let me tell you something. It doesn't matter what kind of personal drama anyone is EVER going through. You DO NOT play on people's work email. You DO. NOT. PLAY. on people's work email. Ever. No excuse. I was heated. Livid, really. Trembling to the point that I could not think straight.

Now, I guess this is what I get for playing around on email to start off with, but to be perfectly honest, my intentions weren't 100% malicious. I was angry to start off with, but I really felt like she should know what she was getting into. I guess she'll have to learn the hard way. No longer my problem. I can't say I haven't been plotting against her since yesterday though. Trying to figure out the right way to clear my name and erase all of the terrible lies that boy has been tellin her. But why do I even care? He's moving to New York to be with her, and based on her email to all THREE of my accounts, they're "incredibly happy" together. Well isn't that beautiful.

I'm going to try not to dwell on it. I really am. But I know how I get and it will take a minute to get this out of my system. The audacity of BOTH of them. He is a ridiculous person and it's a blessing that he has been removed from my life. She CLEARLY does not see the whole picture, otherwise she wouldn't be so desperate to paint their love story for me. I'm no longer sad about him or pining to have him back in my life. I secretly hope he gets hit by a bus in Harlem, or mugged in broad daylight. Is that bad?

Who cares.

My mom is hilarious. I'm so glad we're getting to the point where I can tell her *practically* anything. I told her tidbits about my current drama - enough to get her perspective without totally outing myself - and she agreed with me. She took my side. So I started telling her more stuff, the stuff I had done wrong, and she said to me "sometimes people just have to get cursed out." Now, my mother does not curse whatsoever. So to hear that comment from her made me laugh out loud. She said "sometimes people just push you to the point that you have to do that. If you can't talk to them in your language, you have to talk to them in theirs." It was nice to hear her say that. To me, it reaffirmed that I had been handling this okay. I couldn't escape blame for what I did, and I'll own up to that. But the fact that this boy has been lying to the GF about me, and she's buying every word is slowly driving me crazy.

It goes back to the control issue, I guess. Clearly I don't have any in this predicament. It's bittersweet to have to "let it go" especially when I have so much else I want/need to say to both of them. It just means the final episode of this soap opera will be epic. Knock down, drag out. Monumental. It's not to say that I thrive off of drama because I typically avoid it at all costs. But, man. He is taking it there, and I'm tired of being trampled by his foolishness. Deep breaths.

What goes around comes around.

Conventional Wisdom

It's unfortunate that it has taken me so long to appreciate the conventional wisdom of my mom and my grandparents.

It's only in candid, confidential conversations that I begin to learn who my mother, and my grandparents, really are. And through these conversations I begin to ask: why did it take 25 years for us to get here?

I've been talking to my mom almost every day now. I love it. She has let her guard down in a way that I don't believe I would have seen were it not for the Lymphoma. Truthfully, we've been able to laugh easily since I was in college. I guess by that point I had proven myself to the degree at which she could alleviate some of her own stressors. After graduation, we overcame another hurdle, and new conversation topics were then acceptable. Now that I'm working, paying my own bills, and she has encountered a slightly-non-threatening sickness, it feels as though (almost) nothing is off the table. I love it.

Earlier today (on this fine 4th of July!) I was making my way from Saturday Night Service to a BBQ when I decided to do my daily check-in. Mom groggily answered the phone, and once I confirmed that I hadn't interrupted her sleep, we began to catch up. We discussed the nature of the sermon, her most recent doctor appointment, my mid-term grade and the dirtiness of my apartment. "Well, don't worry about it," she said. "WHAT?" I exclaimed, laughing. "I don't think I've ever heard you say something like that," I chuckled. "Well, your Mamaw (that's what we call our grandma) always says 'don't worry about stuff like that - it'll work itself out.'" I smiled. This was true. The cleanliness of my one-bedroom apartment was honestly the least of my troubles.

It's not even that my mom and I exchanged any profound words in our most recent call; it's that the repetition, and progression of these calls grows more intense and more earnest as each day passes. And, as I reflect upon my post from this time last year, I'm reminded of my lightheartedness at the time and surprised by my current growth. I was so carefree when I was en route to The Taste in 2008. Now that I'm facing real life challenges, and enduring a number of hardships simultaneously, I see that my priorities have completely shifted... and I'm okay with that. Then, I'd rather charge a trip and get drunk with college friends. Now, I'd rather go to church and talk to my mom... and then get drunk with friends for free at a later hour :-).

While the past two months have undoubtedly been difficult, I'm looking forward to what July - December have to offer. Brighter days - I hope. ::sighs:: Tonight's cookout was full of beer, mojitos and grass. I'm completely relaxed and comfortable as I recount the past 12 hours. But I know that tomorrow I'll wake up, sobered and lonely, to face a new day with only the spirit of God at my side. And, I'm okay with that too. I just can't wait until that's no longer the case.. (the lonely part, that is).

It will happen. Trouble don't last always. And, if my mom's conventional wisdom has taught me anything, it is this: THERE'S ALWAYS HOPE. Looking forward to tomorrow...

Worshipping & Wandering

So much has been happening lately. Between reading “The Shack,” attending church, and just plain living, I’ve been reaching all kinds of new conclusions about life. At Elizabeth Baptist last Wednesday, I went to church expecting a few songs, a scripture, a sermon, and a steering moment from God to help me get through the week. What I got was so different, so unconventional – and yet it was exactly what I needed. Of course, I was late. Work has been kicking my ass lately, what with my paralyzing inability to concentrate coupled with a burdening stress called “Microeconomics 2021.” So, I hurried in as the choir finished the last two songs, somewhat disappointed that I’d missed the bulk of the praise session (gospel music always moves my heart to a better place). In typical fashion, I was seated with my legs crossed and arms folded. I was “closed off” as most body language interpreters would say. I always sit like this in new settings – regardless of whether or not I’m actually comfortable. I could have just met you. You could be my best friend. I’m likely to have my legs crossed and arms folded when I’m settling in to a new situation. It is what it is.

I forget what the choir was singing, but I knew I needed to open myself up. If I was going to fully receive God’s word, I needed to stop being so closed off – at least while I was in the sanctuary. I uncrossed my legs, and politely curled my left foot under my right ankle. That’s better. I uncrossed my arms, and sat just holding my hands. Okay. I’m opening. I’m openninnggggg.

Pastor Oliver then took the stage, Bible in hand. He propped his elbow on the podium and began talking to the congregation about a recent sermon he did. Totally natural. Totally impromptu. I figured this was an introduction to tonight’s sermon. Unfortunately, I only attend the Wednesday night services, so I didn’t really have a frame of reference for his comments… but I sat, with my own Bible, waiting for the cue to turn to chapter such-and-such.

He began talking and what I presumed to be his biblical anecdote took on a life of its own. I don’t recall which book or chapter he pulled from, but he got to a part where he began to discuss Mary Magdalene and her relationship with Jesus. He said (and I’m blatantly paraphrasing) “…she took her hair down. You know, critics have all kinds of things to say about Mary; people tend to hate on her. But her focus was on Jesus, and she took her hair down to worship him. You know – to ‘take you hair down’ really means ‘to relax’. And that’s what some of us need to do. We need to chill out. We get so caught up in our own lives, and the bills that are due, and our mortgage, and what other people think of us, that we forget to put God first. If Mary had worried as much about her critics as we do about ours, do you think she would have gotten her blessing? The Bible says she took her hair down and got on her knees to worship Him. She kneeled so far down that her hair covered his feet. His dirty, crusty, smelly feet. And when she was done, she got up, and you know – her hair probably smelled like Jesus’ feet. Do you know what that means? She had to go though something a little uncomfortable… a little dirty… a little gross… to worship Him. And when she got up, she was able to take his Essence… his smell… an element of HIM with her. How many of us are willing to be UNCOMFORTABLE for God? How many of us will kneel down, while everyone else is looking at us, and talking about us, and plotting against us, to worship him? I wish some of you would just let your hair down and give God His glory. Don’t worry about who’s looking at you. It might be a little uncomfortable. You might not like everything that you have to go though. But hasn’t God been good to you? Even when you were tired. Even when you were low. Even when you were sick. Eeeven when you friends deserted you. Eeeven when the bills were do. Even when your mother died. Even when your father died. Even when you got laid off. There are some people in here who can’t let go of their own problems long enough to bless He who is able to do all things! I wish someone in here would just let their hair down…”

It stirred me to the point of tears. It caught me off guard. Where was the scripture? Where was the text? Where was the structure? And yet, it was so fitting – “let your hair down”. We don’t need a text. We don’t need structure. We need to “chill out.” I NEED TO RELAX. I need to let things go. I need to Let. Things. Go. I cannot control what is happening with my mom or grandmother. I cannot control how my relationship ended with that boy. But I can let go of my worrying and stress. I can go into the house of the Lord and lay my burdens down. I can rest easy knowing that She is taking care of it.

The session lasted for a good 45 minutes. He was just talking to us – the congregation; his people. Everyone was standing and agreeing and worshipping. It was beautiful. And, it got me to thinking (tangentially) about all of the biblical “rights” and “wrongs” that many pastors preach about on any given Sunday. The church can be a discouraging and condescending place sometimes. But, at Impact and EBC, I worship with pastors with whom I can truly relate. In my own mind, I think that Jesus just wants us to be good people. By worshipping Him, we’re honoring our own efforts to live by His will. Our goal as Christians is not necessarily to emulate Jesus to a “T” but to learn from his ways and teachings and live our lives in ways that honor Him. I don’t think the “sins” such as fornication, or drunkenness or what have you are really all that terrible. I think the missed lesson is that if we indulge in those things, we’re not really bettering our lives. Fornication between two individuals may not ever hurt a soul – but how often does it contribute something positive to a person’s life? Yes, it feels good… but how does it contribute to our overall well-being? Do we feel more whole? Do we feel closer to God? In hindsight, many of my encounters have made me feel more empty (after the fact). I can’t think of a single case where I’ve done it out of pure love. And the energy invested into those people, and those encounters, is now lost forever. I think that’s the lesson behind abstinence – from a purely unbiased, non-political perspective. It’s not to say “if you have premarital sex, you’re going to hell”. But it is to say “adding sex to your life will complicate things more than necessary, and distract you from other blessings that may be in store.” I dunno. I just don’t believe that God is so mean that She’d cast me away for some silly things I did in my early twenties. I think most lessons from Jesus were simply for our own good as we try to navigate these troubled waters called life. Humans add problems, complications and rules to what God likely intended to be a simple, humble and fulfilling life. The same thing goes for alcohol. I know I blog about beer and vodka excessively. And, my alcohol consumption doesn’t really affect anyone but me. But what positive things do those Vodka Tonics really contribute to my life? If anything, they added to those “silly decisions” in my early twenties, and left me with more early-morning headaches than I would have had otherwise. I’m not going to stop drinking. But, I’m just saying…

I’m going to let my hair down (which has grown a lot since March 6, btw)! I’m going to do so more often, too. I’ve been making a bigger effort in my relationship with Her lately. I’m going to keep building. I’m going to keep trying. There’s victory on the other side, you know. There’s a blessing in all of this. I’ve just got to keep going…

God's Magic. Mommy's Touch.

I thought I was slipping into a mild depression at one point. Now, I don’t think that’s what the issue was. I may have been overwhelmed by all of the things happening in my life simultaneously, but I think the worst of it has passed. My family has gotten a lot closer over the past few months, which is an incredible blessing. It’s sad that someone’s health has to fail them before we realize how important they are to us. I talk to my mom every day now. I talk to my dad every other day. I pray more often. I’ve seen aunts, uncles and cousins more in the past few months than I have in recent years combined. And our exchanges are pleasant. No one begrudgingly hugs another and silently questions where they have been since 2007. We’re genuinely happy to see one another. I’m learning so much about my dad’s side of the family that it makes my head spin. There are so many dark secrets, and skeletons buried deep within our ancestral closet. And yet, with every new discovery, I feel closer to the cousins and extended family members I’ve grown to love over the past 25 years.

My cousin and I went to visit my brother this weekend to christen his new apartment, and celebrate the new chapter in his life: becoming a grown up. His job is treating him well, his new home is lovely, and girlfriend is playing “wife” with more ease every time I see her. Friday night when we arrived, the three of us sat on his patio sipping beer and discussing the estrangement of our oldest uncle (my dad’s brother) from the rest of the family. We hypothesized the many reasons he could have cut off an entire network of his life – sisters, brothers, and an ailing mother. It could have been my grandfather’s death. It could have been the new man that entered Grandma’s life once my grandfather passed. It could have been the pressure of being the oldest. Perhaps there were life challenges that he met in the Navy that changed his perspective about the value of family. We’ll never really know.

On the car ride home my cousin and I discussed my grandmother’s inevitable funeral. Would our long-lost uncle even attend? Would there be tension if he showed up? Would there be tension if he didn’t? You know, just being around family is one of the most therapeutic treatments life has offered me recently. I find myself smiling more. Laughing, even. There’s a genuine, unspoken love that fills a room - even when it is silent - when you’re around family.

It’s my dad’s mom who is sick and drifting. So, I’ve been spending lots of time with his brothers and sisters as they make their way in town to see her. With every hug, however, is a question about my mother. Though they have their own mom to worry about, they embrace me with more warmth because they know how difficult it is on a child to watch a parent endure hardship. There’s no hierarchy with them. No priority of their pain over mine; over my mom’s. We’re a family and we have to get through all of this together.

None of my friends have been able to say or do anything that has fully comforted me over the past two months. Granted, unless someone has been in the exact same situation, there’s no amount of advice or comfort they could really offer anyway. How have I been getting through this? The love of God. An unwavering embrace and extension of love from Her… though I cannot say that I’ve done the same in return. I have been so frustrated and confused and hurt and angry. Some mornings I’ve woken up peacefully, knowing that this was all a part of God’s plan. Some mornings I’ve woken up dreading the day before me, begging for God to hurry up with this lesson and let me move forward. But, regardless of my mood or immediate reaction to this trial, I have managed to keep going.

I never realized how important extended family was until now. It’s a difficult, albeit beautiful, lesson that God has taught me. My grandmother is bringing me closer to family I rarely, if ever, speak to. We’re planning family trips and reuniting on multiple levels now. That’s a blessing. We’re building unspoken connections through our pain. These connects will sustain themselves forever, I’m sure. We’re a lot tougher than we think we are. Everyone is planning to surprise my dad with a visit in a few weeks. I expressed to them that I was worried about how he was handling all of this. He admitted that he wasn’t doing a great job of taking it all in. And so, his brothers and sisters are rising to the occasion… God’s incomprehensible magic at work.

I talk to my mom every day now. Unsolicited phone calls from me while I’m working, driving, sitting, dozing… I appreciate her so much more. And that’s a blessing. I still have so much to learn from her, to ask her, to emulate. What better time to start than now? Her strength, courage and wisdom… her faithfulness to God… her steadfast and confident spirit… her retreat from life stressors… her sense of humor in the midst of it all… her life coaching skills… her unyielding maternal instincts… her sharpness… her blond moments… her ability to support herself… her ability to ask for help… I want to be like her when I grow up.

And God, I need for her to stick around.

Enough Already!

As if I don't have enough on my mind.

This weekend was a full one. I kicked off Friday afternoon (thank God for Summer Fridays!) with a "Bitch Session Happy Hour" with co-workers. It relieved a lot of stress and left me in my happy place - full of chips & salsa and tipsy off of house margaritas. I babysat that night, dozing off to re-runs of TNT original programming.

Saturday began nicely enough. I slept in, then headed to an annual bday pool party for a good friend of mine. After a few hours of basking in the sun, I made my way to a separate bday get-together for one of my linesisters. A lot of our other linesisters had made the voyage down from NYC to help her celebrate, and I wanted to be sure I saw everyone before they left. I arrived to her apartment, tan and tipsy. Pleasantries were exchanged. And man, I was genuinely happy to sit around, sipping beer, with such esteemed ladies. Though we were all around the same age, I admired these women so much for their progress in their professional lives, their fashion sense, their humor, their warmth... I had been anxious to finally chat with my college peers about some of the things going on in my life. I knew they'd each be able to relate to the man-drama, the work-drama, the family-drama... and I was 100% confident that SOMEONE would offer me a little tidbit of advice that would help put things in perspective for me. How did each of them endure hardships and remain fly in the process? How did they make the tough times seem so easy?

But instead, we talked mostly on the superficial level about work and our readiness to move on to the "next phase" in our individual lives - whatever that may be... Slightly disappointed about the lack of depth in our conversation (mind you, they were all getting dressed & ready for the club that night) I took it in stride, and continued the glossed-over convo topics until they were ready to go. Beer in hand, I joked to one linesister about twitter and how she had yet to approve my "follow" request. I still don't quite understand why people protect their updates... but okay. It was at that point she said she had a "bone to pick" with me. WTF? Was she serious?

In typical Michele fashion, I racked my brain trying to figure out exactly what - if anything - she could be upset about. She and I hardly ever kept in touch, and saw each other on rare occasions, such as this one, when lots of sorority sisters happened to be in the same place. Come to find out, she was upset over something I supposedly said to her ex-boyfriend in 2006. This was a time in my life when I was devastated over the boy (much like I am now) and found myself at the gym almost every afternoon. From time to time, Anisa would come with, and we'd jog along my alma mater's track in early evening hours. Of course, there were tons of other students and post grads with the same mentality - running/jogging along the track, and playing soccer on the field. So, summer evenings became somewhat of a skit, with everyone half-working-out, half-socializing after work or after class.

My LS's newly ex-boyfriend noticed Anisa and asked me "what her deal was". Knowing that he had just broken up with my LS, I was in somewhat of an awkward position. In honesty, I told him she was single - nothing more. However, when he translated the story back to my LS, it was I who initiated the hook-up, pushing Anisa onto him in a twisted, malicious attempt to somehow ruin... I don't even know. The shit just doesn't even make sense. Anisa wasn't even FEELING him, which make the story all the more preposterous. Whatever.

As if I don't have enough on my mind.

SHE had a BONE to pick with ME?! Sweetheart - you're three years too late. Why didn't you bring this up then and there? We could have nipped it in the bud, and all would be long forgotten. Second - he's LYING. Now, of course you'll believe your man, or ex-man, or whatever he is, before me. I get that. But please believe that meddling like that it not my style (unless the situation pertains directly to me) and I respect(ed) you way too much to ever do something like that. "Water under the bridge," she called it after she'd gotten that off of her chest. Oh. You have no idea. I'm officially over you, and everyone else who even thinks of bringing added drama into my life. I have no space for it.

::Sighs:: On Sunday I volunteered at my church, had brunch with friends, picked up Ruby for two hours of bonding, and then headed to a bday cookout. The time with Ruby was positive but draining. I watched her splash around my apartment pool (begging me repeatedly to get in with her - but to no avail), then fed her ice cream over a few Hannah Montana episodes. I gave her a mini-manicure and made a deal with her that if she read 10 books over the summer, I'd get her an iPod. See. I'm trying to be a good person. The cookout was fun (even though I was SO exhausted). After a few Bacardi-Pineapples I loosened up and chatted with Melanie about even more weekend drama that I hadn't even been aware of. Whenever too many women (esp. sorority sisters) get around each other, there's like a 24-hour threshold before we start plotting to devour one of our own. Sad but true.

Blah, blah, blah. Watched the SATC Movie last night and cried my eyes out. I'm convinced it was a by product of sleeplessness, PMS, and residual sadness regarding the boy. When will I move past him? When will I stop caring about his every move? His every thought? His bear hugs...? Ufck it, I miss him. Okay? Even though he has hurt me again, and broadcasts his every thought of her via gchat, and plasters love song lyrics on his facebook wall (soliciting "thumbs up" and "likes this" comments from HER in every. single. instance)... I'm still curious to know how he's REALLY doing. Does being "strong" mean I will never talk to him again? That seems as much a disservice to me as it is to him. If I call him, does that make me "weak"? Will I even care this time next Monday when Aunt Flow has come and gone?

And how does any of this compare to the health of my mother or grandmother? It doesn't. Where are my priorities?

Who knows. Who cares.

Whatever.

Waltz (Better Than Fine)

If you don't have a song to sing
You're okay
You know how to get along
Humming
"Hmmm..."

If you don't have a date
Celebrate
Go out and sit on the lawn
And do nothing
'Cause it's just what you must do
Nobody does it anymore

No I don't believe in the wasting of time
But I don't believe that I'm wasting mine

If you don't have a point to make
Don't sweat it
You'll make a sharp one being so kind
And I'd sure appreciate it

Everyone else's goal is to get big headed
Why should I follow that beat
Being that I'm
Better than fine...



"Hmmmm...?"

Notes To God, I

Dear God,

First and foremost, I want to thank you for all of the blessings that you have bestowed upon me. You have been much better to me than I’ve been to myself. I want to thank you for the glorious vacation I was able to have in Puerto Rico among old friends and new. I want to thank you for the rain clouds and the sunny days, dear God. The beach was beautiful; the ambiance serene. I was able to rest and party, read and sleep, enjoy drunken moments as well as dramatically sober ones. It was perfect.

Though I spent too much money (I can pay Discover later) and possibly focused too much on the negatives in my life – I grew closer to you, oh Lord. After Lewis suggested that I read “The Shack,” I made my way to Borders and picked it up just in time for my flight. I must admit, the heaviness of the book didn’t quite make it a poolside read. But you already knew, God, that it was just what I needed at that time. I couldn’t put it down while I was there. I had to wear shades (and risk the raccoon-tan) because the storyline had me in tears chapter after chapter. The protagonist in the story suffered something so heinous and tragic, that it reminded me I have little to complain about. Yes, my mother has cancer – but she will persevere and triumph in this battle. Yes, my grandmother is dying – but such is the cycle of life. And God, as you very well know, I’m suffering from a broken heart right now. But I trust that you will mend it, and make me strong again. That is why I love you.

I believe that these situations, while overlapping and overwhelming, are occurring so that I may rely on you. I am learning that, while I may not understand the trials right now, you have already determined the verdict – and I will come out on top. You are teaching me that I need people in my life who will make me better; not anyone who will abuse my friendship, and make me question myself. And while I feel like I’m at war right now, my battle has already been won. My mother’s battle has already been won. And you will keep my grandmother in your loving arms, and grant her peace when her final hour comes.

But God, if I may, I must ask: must it always be this difficult? I mean, I wake up every morning and talk with you. I bless your name. I meditate (or try to, at least) en route to work. While I know these things – these hurts – are good for me, must it always be this difficult? Why is it that the boy gets to be madly in love with a new girl, and I’m left to emotional numbness? The songs he once sang to me, he now sings to her. The intensity of our relationship has completely vanished – and he now has someone new with whom he shares inside jokes, daily conversations, late night talks, and a growing love. And so suddenly? I know I cannot comprehend your greatness. I know I cannot attempt to rationalize what you have already deemed necessary. I know that the best is yet to come. But, if it’s not asking too much, could we please expedite the current smarting process? Yes, through pain we learn and grow. We won’t make the same mistakes twice. We will use our scars and wounds as reminders of previous wrongs, and make them right moving forward. Maybe he’s not meant to be in my life. Maybe his season has passed. I’m okay with that. I honestly am. I just ask that, if it’s in your will, please help me to stop dwelling on him. Help me to move forward. Help me to stop Facebook stalking him. Help me to find peace. Please.

You’ve been so good to me, dear God. You’ve blessed me with deep and pure friendships. You’ve blessed me with a family who loves me unconditionally. You have graced me with good looks. You have graced me with good health. You have even provided superficial things to make me smile – such as new bags, new shoes, new electronics and the like. I know I don’t need these things. I know I don’t deserve them. And you have done wonders for me because you love me. I hope that, as I grow with you, I will make you proud. And, I’ll bear these burdens God, because I know you are with me and each event in my life serves a purpose. I will seek out the beauty in these sometimes troubling instances and bless you in all of it. I love you, I bless you, and I will glorify your name. Thank you for all of it.

In Jesus’ name… Amen.