The Past

I do not have a title for this yet. Hello world. I am on a plane. Flying from Belgium to Chicago. Prior to this I was on a plane flying from my heal the world country to Belgium. Prior to that, I was in my heal the world country for the past six months. Trying to heal myself.

It has been tough. The toughest. I know I’ve probably written about some pretty crazy things in this blog and just been through a lot of doom and gloom and pain, but this last six months has by far been the toughest – tougher than my whole body acting a fool and breaking down; tougher than whatever man relationships and heartbreaks I’ve incurred; tougher than being broke or almost homeless. The toughest.

I stopped writing for a while. Maybe I should start at the beginning. I will start at the beginning. The beginning of the culmination of these past few months officially started for me sometime in 2018, I believe. But it probably started in 2017 without me knowing. I should start this blog by saying it has been challenging for me to write blogs these days because I got in trouble for writing. I got in trouble because someone(s) close to me thought I was writing things publicly in order to tarnish their image. I wasn’t, but I did write some pretty dark poems. What is funny is that most of the poems I wrote were not inspired by the people who were offended by them. But some were. But I wasn’t meaning to offend.

I wrote poems about my feelings, and most of them were dark and desperate during this particular season. So, I wrote a poem. I had been writing poems. I write poems. For fun. To express myself. To process. A group of friends and I used to write thirty poems during April, which is poetry month. The group was led by my best friend who is no longer my best friend and for the past two years, I haven’t been writing with him, but I’ve been writing. He used to do this challenge for us to write 30 poems in poetry month, but I never finished the 30 poems. We extended our 30 poem a month timeline to 30 poems a year, and last year, for the first time since starting the 30 poem challenge over four years ago, I wrote 30 poems. They were about feeling safe in one’s life, jealously and rivalry, dysfunctional relationships, wanting acceptance. All sad stuff. I wrote about sad stuff on purpose. Because I never do. Nobody, besides the people who read this ol’ sad blog, really knows that I can get sad. Most of the people in my personal life are not comfortable with me not being the sunshine all the time. At least that’s how I feel. They rely on me to bring the party and resent me when I don’t. 

But I was sad and I had no party to bring in my poems. I was going through it. I was experiencing and witnessing so much darkness and I know so many others who were going through the same and worse and I wrote about dark things. My mother doesn’t like me to write about dark things. At one point, she had advised that I don’t write this blog. She will be mad if she hears that I wrote anything about her on this blog. I messed up at the beginning of writing this blog and told people about it. I didn’t realize that certain people might read it and then they will judge me or talk about me or say I’m trying to diss such and such in public. It’s why I use code names mostly when I write. But sometimes you can’t use a code name for your mom. And sometimes you can’t use a code name for your sibs. And sometimes, you just don’t want to because it somehow seems important to tell the truth.

So I’ve been struggling. Because these issues with people who don’t want me to write about or talk about them or their issues anywhere in the world except with them – and who honestly don’t want to deal with the issues even if you talk to them – are the issues that have been sinking me.

And talking about them and writing about them helps.

But I understand. Certain things can mess up a person’s reputation, especially if they have a reputation of being everything except who they are behind closed doors. Then you go and tell the world that they moved into your house and labeled your internet something offensive and didn’t change it even after you asked them to change it over five times. They trying to front like they are loving, cooperative beings who never do anything wrong and the world is just against them. Or if you write a poem talking about how you’ve felt about you and your sibling’s relationship for most of your life when he’s trying to show the world he’s the best brother ever. Or if you tell the world about some crazy, risk your life task that your mother tried to manipulate you into doing when she’s showing a face to the world that she’s the best mom on the planet.

A lot has happened over the past six months, and it’s mostly revolved around the breakdown of family relationships. I don’t even know where to start. I wonder if this is everyone’s story. The beginning of the end started with a breakup from a man. And then it was me disassociating and running in circles living in a movie I didn’t write and having however many dysfunctional relationships with men. And then my whole body and mind decide to collapse and breakdown. And then it was a breakdown and breakup with friends. And then finally, family. The hardest disentangling and dissolution of all.

I suppose family was the toughest. I won’t write too much about them because they don’t like being written about. But I’ll write enough to move through this, because it is in the way of whatever is on the other side of it. I’ve seen the sad side of happy. But there are other sides to it which aren’t necessarily happy. There’s this side, where you look at the sad things. I kind of have to look at them and call them by their name before I can be honest about what is really going on and move through them…

So, I’m on a plane. I’ve been overseas for the past six months, running away from everything and looking for a safe place to process and heal my heart. And in a hotel in the heal the world country and out on a farm, I found all my sad, sad pieces. My broken, broken heart. My stifled sexuality. My voice, pushed down, down into my back. My power, flickering. Anger and resentment never acknowledged. I felt the trembling, deep down in the nerves of my lower back, which never quite goes away and sometimes attacks like waves in my whole body when I feel particularly emotionally unsafe…

I kind of went off on a lady on the plane today. She was talking crazy to me. The flight attendant. People be talking crazy to each other in this world. But I digress. I would have never gone off on her in the past. Would have just sat there and let her talk to me like I’m somebody’s child while my nerve waves just kicked in. But I pulled her to the side and told her I didn’t appreciate her tone. She was telling me to put my mask on. She raised her voice and said she had gotten angry because my mask was off. My mask had fallen off while I was asleep and she couldn’t see that it was actually hanging from my face. I told her she didn’t have to be rude to me. She apologized. I think I’m sharing this because I never would have said anything to her in my prior post six months incarnation…

Where was I? On a plane. Coming from a hotel room for the past six months. Family relationships broke down. l won’t get into all the details, but one by one, I had fallouts with almost every family member. A sister disappeared. We would find out later that she disappeared because she thought I had started a rumor about her amongst our family members. I never did it, but till today, even though we’ve had meetings with family all saying as much, she, nor some family members believe.

Shortly after that, I went out of state to help another sib with babysitting. She literally called and asked me for help whilst I was in the emergency room because I was having chest pains and the doctor thought I was having a heart attack. I went. Did the gig. Thought we had agreed to two weeks, but honestly, there was a miscommunication and she thought I was staying longer. When miscommunication revealed, big tension. Mom called and talked to me like b*tch on the street. Like I planned to come out of state and sabotage my sister’s life. I’d been in sister’s house, in my home city, for literally two weeks. Hadn’t seen a daggone person from my childhood or been out of the house besides to go take the baby on walks. One night, went to the movies with an old friend. Told my sis ahead of time that I was going. Told my sister’s husband ahead of time that I was going. They didn’t indicate that they had a problem with it. Friend picked me up down the street because the GPS led him to the wrong house. The door locks with a code and I accidentally left the front door unlocked when I left.

Before I could come home, whilst I was at the movie theater, I get a message from my mom about how I’m disrespecting my sister and bringing people over her house and exposing her kids to things they shouldn’t be exposed to and living a certain lifestyle at my sister’s house. I didn’t know what my mom was talking about. I asked my sis. Actually I accused her of slandering me. When I got back home, me and sis got into a physical altercation. Actually, she assaulted me and I didn’t reciprocate. I left her house the next morning. What was most painful about the whole situation was how my mom talked to me and what she thought of me. Like, I left my home the day after getting checked for a heart attack so I could go help sis babysit because she had started a new job. And mom thought I was trying to sabotage her. And also that my mom had assumed that I had brought someone over my sister’s house (which never happened, and which I never in my life have brought anyone over any family member’s house without their permission) and my mom assumed I was doing whatever in front of my sister’s kids and that she told my sister all of these assumptions and my sister never said, “that didn’t happen”. She just let my mom believe all the false allegations against me knowing my mom was going to attack me about them. 

That incident and my runaway sister’s incident were the official beginnings of the dissolution of my family dynamic. My thinkings about my place in my fam was a bit shook. 

We carried on. This is a long story. That year, my mom went overseas to take care of her mom. I went overseas to help her. She was falling apart at the seams. Me and mom also started a family farm whilst out there. It was fun and exciting and painful. My overseas family is a whole movie. But my mom and I’s relationship got really bad by the time I left and I got really sick. I’m sure I was being food poisoned by the cook in our house, but my mom didn’t take it as serious as I did. I’m pretty sure I was about to die. I was so weak. My mind couldn’t think. I couldn’t really get words out without concentrating for a long time about what I was going to say. I slept for hours and hours in a day. I was saved by a cousin of mine, who got me out of that country when she heard how sick my voice sounded, and I went back to the states and got diagnosed with a bad case of food poisoning and very, very low iron.

I came back to the South, to my brother’s place. 2019. My brother took care of me. It might have been the first and only time in my adult life that someone had taken care of me and given me the energy of love with no strings attached and without asking me for anything. I didn’t have to give him attention, advice, money, help with whatever… I didn’t have to bring the party. He was just taking care of me. I was so happy. He bought me ice cream every day. He researched my condition and fed me foods that I needed to get well. He’d make me breakfast with a smile and leave it at my room door if I wasn’t awake yet. He noticed that I was kind of not fully in my body without me having to tell him. He noticed that any slight emotional thing might have me knocked out for an entire day, and he let me sleep. He noticed what was going on with me and did things to help me…

Then another sister came to live with us. She wasn’t about me eating no ice cream and she thought I should be doing more. I don’t think she meant any harm, but my ice cream made me so happy and I really was so glad to finally be able to rest. She wanted attention from me and I wasn’t in a space to give it. I’d tell her to leave me alone and that I’m gonna give her negative attention if she don’t stop vying for my attention, but she wasn’t taking me serious. Her and brother would start the day debating about any and everything. Brother stopped making me breakfast with a smile. He started forgetting to make breakfast. My health started regressing and I started getting scared that my healing time was over. At some point, sis got mad at me because I fell asleep during a meeting we had scheduled. She started saying stuff about me. I’d be lying if I told you what she said. But whatever she was saying, I was feeling attacked and sick of it. I swung at her. Yeah, I did. It was wrong. But, yeah. I did. I kept swinging at her till brother broke up the fight. So, yeah… That put a dent in our relationship. I was sorry for swinging at her…

Then, shortly after, me and best friend fell out. He had slept with my other friend and tried to sleep with me after. It was much more complicated than that, but that was the final incident that caused our breakup. So it was a double break-up. A break-up with my best guy friend whom I’d been doing life with for over twenty years and a break-up with my close female friend. Slightly devastated about our breakup.

End of 2019? An almost marriage that went awry.

2020 Covid hit. Right before Covid hit, a sister asked to move in with me and asked me to help her babysit her son. My brother, the one who took care of me while I was sick, was also getting married right at the time Covid hit. There had been a few situations that happened around his wife to be, and he was mad at me for saying certain things about her… 

Mom came back to the states because nobody knew exactly where this Covid thing was going and international flights were about to be shut down indefinitely.

I started the pandemic babysitting my nephew, first on my own, and then we went and joined his mom, my sis, on an island where they had sent her to work. The experience was OK, but not. Neither of us were telling each other why. I think we had a misunderstanding about money. At the end of the day, sis said that all the ways I had helped her over the years, she never felt “helped”. This hit me really hard. I’m not even gonna talk about the ways I had helped her over the years. We are just going to state the facts. Sis felt comfortable enough to call me and tell me she was having issues and within days, she was at my apartment with her son sharing a room with me. Within weeks, I had changed my entire schedule of what I had planned for those months in order to skip town and be there babysitting my nephew so she could get a handle on her new job and whatever else was going on in her world. Whilst I am in the midst of said babysitting, sacrificing whatever I had planned for myself, the girl tells me she doesn’t feel helped by me. I was livid. And heartbroken somehow. And over it. Camel’s back was broken.

I was over my family.

Went back to Cali after my babysitting agreement was over. I was taking some derm meds that had really bad side effects – potentially could cause suicide. I was massively depressed. My head felt like it was closing in on me. I was dating whoever. Dysfunction dysfunction. I think I had went to my brother’s house first to stay with him. I don’t know what happened. Covid had just started and after my trip from the island to his house, I was feeling a bit sick. I had seen somewhere that if you steam your face, you won’t get Covid. I boiled some water to steam my face. I think I put some lemon in the water. Maybe orange peel, too. Food stuff. Steamed face. Brother didn’t seem to be in approval but he didn’t say anything. I left the water on the stove overnight by accident. The next morning, I heard him yell my name from the kitchen. Y’all know how you might see those little jittery kids and how they react when they have a really harsh abusive parent that talks to them crazy? That’s how I felt when he called my name. He told me something about the water. Then he asked me what kind of scent I wear, or what kinds of lotion I was wearing, because apparently spiders had been coming to his house since my arrival and he thought it might have something to do with my scents.

I went home. I told him, texted him rather, that I didn’t feel welcome at his place because of several reasons. He texted back and said it wasn’t true and that we’d talk about it sometime. That was in April or May 2020. We ain’t talked about it yet. At some point, we did talk on the phone. I told bro about my depression issues and what was going on in my life. Bro asked me if I wanted his advice and I said yeah. He was so harsh. You know, maybe my family are just warrior people, but they are a bit like this flight attendant. We. We are a bit like this flight attendant in our communication with me and with some of each others. Just always harsh. Always angry. Always rolling eyes. Always annoyed. Always assuming that the other intended the worse. But my brother’s tone was so harsh as he’s giving my depressed, almost suicidal, ass advice. He basically told me not to worry about how people treat me and worry about how I treat them instead… And something to the effect of taking a particular action. I don’t remember the action, but in response to that advice, I told him that what he was saying was like telling a baby (me) who is sitting in a corner crying to get up and do something monumental out of their league. His response was to tell me that first of all, he doesn’t like metaphors, and secondly, I’m not a baby… I don’t remember what else he said after that.

I got off the phone. It had to be April 2020 because it must have been poetry month. I wrote a poem inspired by my brother and I’s conversation, but I didn’t post it online. Will come back to that poem later… I wasn’t mad at brother, but just sad. Just sad.

I had about one close person left in my life at the time. A friend who lived about an hour away. Long story short, we fell out, too. During the time that George Floyd had gotten killed, I had wanted to come visit him. There were riots on the streets in LA and the atmosphere was volatile. So anyway, I’m on my way to take the hour drive to see him. My almost suicidal, shaky nerve self is slowly telling my body what to do so I can get in the car and go see my friend. I call him because I don’t remember directions to his place. He doesn’t answer. I message him asking him for the directions. He doesn’t respond. He’s always on his phone, and I know he has seen my message and multiple missed calls since the hour or so when I started reaching out. I head his way anyway. It’s dark. I’m scared. I go as far as I can go without directions and then park at a parking lot hoping to hear from him. It’s a racist part of town. I hear gunshots. Finally he calls me. Tells me that I should have gone online to get directions to his place and I know he’s busy working.

I had to look myself in the mirror and ask myself just what kind of wicked person I am. Am I as wicked as the way people treat me? I had to really ask myself what I had been doing wrong. I asked the people, but they had no answers except that I should know. Maybe I talk too much. Maybe I call people out on their bullshit too much. The thing that was really getting to me is that the same people who want treat me like some booboo on Skid Row are the same ones always calling me asking me to be a part of their lives.

I was over it. I was over everyone in my life. I was heartbroken. I felt this thing called bitter for the first time. I’m fast forwarding a lot of stuff. Thank you for reading if you’ve read this far. This is really just me trying to process what all has happened and trying to connect some dots so we can get to the part of me being on the plane with no where to go and figure out how not to make this part of my life another chapter on depression, confusion and all the things I don’t want. 

So, around September 2020, I’m feeling heartbroken and over everyone and everything. My mom comes in town before planning to go back overseas to see her mom. A bunch of stuff happens. I tell my mom that I think folks are trying to kill my grandma. Nobody takes me serious and I’m not able to incite action soon enough. My grandma dies six days after I make the statement. I’m devastated. Everyone is. I don’t think her death was natural and say as much and get into arguments with fam for saying as much… Some of us go overseas for grandma’s funeral. I stay overseas because I want to investigate how grandma died, because I don’t want our farm to die, because I don’t know what’s going to happen with grandma’s house, and eventually because I get an opportunity to do film stuff overseas. I meet a man. He’s everything dysfunctional, but the only friend I have. We date. It’s dysfunctional.

I come back to the states about six months later. 2021 May. The farm is saved. Grandma’s death is partially investigated but no conclusions. The only conclusion is that five different people have five different stories of how she died, and depending on what day you ask them, some of the stories change. So lie lie lie. Why? Because the truth isn’t something folks think I want to hear… Grandma’s house is still there and unoccupied by the folks whom I think could have killed her. 

Back in LA, sis who said I don’t help her a year prior has moved into my apartment in my absence and turned my apartment into a home. We had agreed that she was moving in with her son and we three would be living together when I got back. She has decorated the place beautifully, but the first thing I notice is that all the closets are full with her stuff and there is not one empty shelf for me. There are two lovely desks, one child’s desk for her son and the desk I used to use has her desktop on it and looks like a work space. It looks lovely. Two designated work spaces but no designated work space for me. Sis had told me she wanted to redo the apartment and I gave her free reign. The only thing I wanted input on was the couch. She had went to look at certain couches and told me about it. Tried to get one and told me about it, but it didn’t work and when that didn’t work, I asked her to wait till I get back and we’d pick a couch together. She agreed. I got back. She had already picked a couch that was on its way. I wasn’t happy. The couch she picked was not a futon nor a sofa bed. Where was I supposed to sleep???? On the bed with her and her son???? On the floor? On the couch that’s not made to sleep on? As a long term “this house is a home” arrangement?… I felt offended. I just couldn’t see any evidence that this place was designed for me to live in, too. My place. My sanctuary that I had welcomed her into so it could be our sanctuary… She had considered my taste whilst picking the decor that she had already wanted to pick, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care about the decor and had told her as much from the beginning. All I cared about was the couch. Because I figured someone was going to have to sleep on it. I had had a lovely black futon prior to her redecorating and for over seven years, when I had housemates, one person slept on the futon and the other person slept in bedroom on bed…

Anyway. Her birthday was coming up and she had planned a big extravaganza. I ain’t have no space in the house. A bunch of people were over. Had to do a bunch of stuff. I was tired. I wasn’t happy… She had named our internet a name that I really didn’t like – an embarrassing name – because she was trying to poke at some neighbors, and I had asked her to change name over four times and she wasn’t taking it serious. Long story short, a lot of things happened. I told her how I felt about them. She said she didn’t feel welcome at the house and left shortly after.

I went to stay with my brother, who had just had a surgery, for about a month. I enjoyed being with him.

At the same time, another sister was planning to come to the heal the world country I had just left and start her business. I will tell her story another day because I’m tired of writing now, but long story short, I felt like I was put in a position that I had said in advance that I didn’t want to be in and it didn’t have to be set up that way. She didn’t force me into that position but I felt like her project wasn’t gonna succeed if I didn’t help and I hadn’t planned to help at a certain capacity at that time… Our relationship suffered and distanced. That was Sept 2021. I left my brother’s place and went back to the heal the world country and helped with the tail end of her project. Stayed to file some paperwork for a family member and check on the farm. Was supposed to come back in November, but by November, I had had whatever arguments with my mom about whatever.

I can’t tell you what the whatever was. I think she was blaming me for this, that or the other. Blaming me for one of my sister’s actions towards extended family. I don’t remember the convo, but I just remember the tone. I remember being on the other side of the phone thinking, “Why is my mamma talking to me so crazy?” and I remember my back nerves hurting and I remember being tired of folks talking to me crazy and telling my mom I’m getting off the phone. I wasn’t looking forward to coming home. There was nothing to come home to. My mom was always yelling at me or blaming me or criticizing me for one thing or another. 

My baby sis and I hadn’t talked anything substantial since she moved out and I was really hurt about our whole situation. My other sis and I had drifted a bit since her project situation. My other sis who had assaulted me was living her best life and we were on good terms now, but she’s married with kids and super busy and you gotta get with that program if you come stay with her. My other sis had disappeared and was blaming me for doing stuff I didn’t do. My healer brother was now married. And my other brother, whose house I had just left, was cool enough, but I know I have to do and not do certain things in order to keep the peace while living with him. My other sis, whom I had swung at, was on good terms with me, but, you know, I had swung at her, and trust takes a while to build when things like that happen. And she lives with other family members. And if I’m being honest, I wasn’t in nobody’s mental state to build anybody’s trust. I was quite broken and really just wanted to be somewhere where nobody asks me for anything and people are just nice to me.

I didn’t have anyone to come home to in Cali. My friendships were extinct, besides a few new female friends who were super busy. I ain’t have no man besides my dysfunctional overseas man. So I canceled my November ticket and just decided to stay in the hotel overseas until I found something better to do.

I’d work on my writing projects, slowly get our farm in order, cry as much as I want to, swim in the ocean, walk on the beach and dance until I was ready to do something else. And that’s what I did.

Some time in December, I posted the poem online that was inspired by my brother two years earlier. I didn’t think anything of it. The poem starts out by saying a line from a conversation me and my brother had. No one would know the poem was inspired by my brother except my brother. Poems I write are generally mixtures of make believe and the reader can’t tell if the poem is an observation or a true story. But anyway, the poem starts off by saying the line and then goes on to talk about how a person wishes another person they’ve lived life with would accept them and like them as they are. I didn’t think anything of it.

I started a group therapy program in January because my nerves kept shaking and my body kept hurting and my brain was slowing down and I didn’t quite know how to get over all this grief and all these negative feelings but I didn’t want them anymore. Gratefully, the foundation of the program is on regulating one’s nervous system so that one can start to feel safe in one’s body and find ways to feel safe in the world.

In late January or early February or so, I had some extra money and reached out to my brother asking him if his bank account was good so I could send some to him. My brother responded with a text telling me that he had read my poem lying about him not liking me, and due to that poem and about three other things that had happened in our recent history and all the things I had said and done against him and his religion my entire life, he doesn’t trust me and I should find somewhere else besides his place to come home to when I return from overseas. I wrote him back just apologizing for everything and telling him I loved him. I was devastated and heartbroken. I still am. Later, I found out that he felt like I was trying to debase his character through the poem…

Shortly after that, a good friend of mine died. Shortly after that, my family called a meeting where I was the focus. We were going to talk about all my issues with family. We only got through me and my sister’s issue – the one who started the project. I don’t know if anything was resolved. Nothing, really. Not at that time. But in this moment, I have accepted that she is she and me is me and I do believe we have good will towards each other. I just don’t know that that inspires any action on my part.

At some point after meeting, me and my mom finally talked. I told mom what was going on in my life and mom asked how she could help. I told her she could help me by believing what I’m telling her about my health and she could also help me by not asking me to do stuff for my siblings and coupling criticism with praise. ‘Cus she has a history of always asking me to do stuff for my siblings and I have history of having a hard time saying no, so I’ll feel bad and do stuff I really didn’t plan on doing, but then I’ll be mad when I don’t complete what I really had wanted to complete for myself at that period of time. I told mom that I only had three things I wanted to do this year – reach certain benchmarks with farm, produce and distribute a film, and do all I can to make myself available to have a baby, and I didn’t want to take on anything else.

Mom agreed to do her best to help in the ways I asked and she also agreed to come overseas to help with farm in the near future. Shortly after our talk, I found some new workers for our farm. Just to give you context, every time I go out to our farm, I worry for my life. Just believe me when I say my life is in danger every time, please. I will explain more on a later post, maybe. So this one time, I went out to the farm and we realize that we have coffee there. A coffee tree. My “you don’t help me” ungrateful sister had spoken about wanting to do stuff with coffee once upon a time. I sent a picture of the coffee tree to our farm group, knowing my mom, who is a partner on the farm, would see the picture, and knowing my mom would tell my sis about the coffee tree and maybe she’d do some coffee stuff with it later. Mom saw the pic and asked me if I could tell our new workers to nurse some baby coffee trees and I told her no because that’s extra stuff that I don’t have the capacity to do at the moment, but we can do it in the future. Mom said OK. A few days later, she sends a message to our family group chat saying she’s not coming overseas until me (she pointed me out specifically) and some of my unnamed other siblings, cleanse our hearts of jealousy, bitterness and hatred.

I asked God why he hates me, but he didn’t answer… Mom and I went back and forth about her message. I also informed family about the exchange between me and brother and sent them a copy of our text exchange and I also informed family about an overview of what happened between me and ungrateful sis before she moved out. Nobody said anything about anything publicly, although three sibs reached out privately to tell me sorry and tell me they think I’m a good person. Another sib posted a general message on the family chat saying we should respect each other.

Then, with no mention of the message my mom had said about me, mom sent another family message asking who in the family wants to join her and ungrateful’s bee business that she plans to come overseas and start. People start responding. Brother sends a message telling folks about something he did in his career. People start responding. I’m sitting here like, are these folk really gonna sit by and see all that’s happening and not say nothing about it publicly and then be talking about mom’s business when mom just called me everything but a child of God and essentially said she ain’t supporting me on nothing??? And bro just sent me a text message while I’m out of town telling me not to come to his house because of a poem??? And now he talking bout his career and y’all congratulating him and responding to mom’s request but y’all not gonna say nothing about what’s going on?

I addressed the family myself. Either y’all aren’t there for me, or y’all feel like this treatment towards me is justified, and if y’all feel this way, that I’m just that foul of a person where it’s ok for folks to treat me a certain way, and/or if you don’t have the guts to stand up for me when folks are dragging me through the mud but then feel perfectly comfortable asking me to do stuff you won’t ask anyone else to do in order to help you? Get outta here. I left the family chat group.

My mom and sis came overseas in March/April to work on sister’s project. I supported. Mom stayed and helped with farm stuff. We fought. We bonded. At the end of the day, I Love her. But I don’t have the words… My back hurts. Me and sis didn’t fight fight, but had tension and bonded, too… Mom asked me to come back to the states. Told me not to push my luck. I’d stayed alive overseas for this long. A lot of people died. I booked my ticket to come back to states a day after her.

And here I am. On a plane. Going to Cali. But I don’t where. At this particular moment, I don’t really know where I will live. Somewhere in the past week, bro told mom I could come back to his house. I have a sub-letter at my place. I could go back and be his roommate, but he’ll hit on me sooner than later; or I could stay at my place by myself. But staying at my place by myself with no real friends in LA is super depressive… I could go to the South and be with mom or one of the sibs, but I don’t trust it. Because… Well, because of everything in this blog post. We Love each other, but… I really don’t want to babysit when I don’t feel like it or be sequestered at home or have to give anyone any attention I don’t feel like giving or spend any money I didn’t plan on spending or move faster than makes me feel safe and healthy.

So here I am again. What do you want, Laydie? My family relationships are not the same. They will never be again. My friendships are not the same. I finally got tired of dysfunctional overseas relationship and broke that off. And here I am. What do I want? I don’t know that I believe my family relationships could be good. They are all good and loving people, but everyone feels justified in their stances, including me. Everyone behaves and is behaving exactly like they choose to. Full of shit.

I need to make a choice before this plane lands. I want to believe that good stuff is possible, but sometimes it’s hard to believe as much when you have been sad for so long. I sometimes imagine what it would be like to just be taken care of not taken advantage of and seen as good. What it would be like to be able to be as nice as I really am and somebody just say they like me. They are OK with that. It’s enough. Good job. And not hurt me. Not lie to me. Not cheat on me. Not see me as a thing to use. Not compete with me… I wonder what it would be like to be able to cry and be held. To be able to mess up and be forgiven. To find an equal with a big, brave heart who liked me just as much as I liked him and wanted to be with me… Who would be good to me and I wouldn’t have to worry about him trying to cheat or lie or use or abuse me… 

I don’t want to go back, y’all. To anything I’ve known in the ways I’ve known it. There were and are good parts to my family dynamic. Many good parts. And friends. I’ve had awesome friends. And even the mens. So many good experiences. 

The words on top of my awareness are wholly and fully. What can I choose wholly and fully? About living? About my home? There’s nowhere on the list I can choose wholly and fully and I don’t want to be going to live anywhere by myself any more. I don’t want to repeat this decade again. I can’t do it. There’s a baby in me needing to be born…

So let us speak truth about what we really want, and in spite of all the disaster, because of the holy, holy ruin, let’s close our eyes and realize there is nowhere else to be but honest and loving and forgiving. Easier said than done, but not as hard as it seems. I was going to start talking about what I want for the farm, but Spirit said let me talk about what I want for myself first.

What do I really want? Really? I want to be happy. I want to feel safe with somebody. Like there is someone I can care for who won’t hurt me. I want to have fun and never have to think about money again. I want to be able to be in relationship with my family that honors myself. Not fake stuff where the energy is always like they judging me or wanting me to be or do something that I have absolutely no interest in being or doing. Really… The dream that I don’t dare to dream is that I meet someone really really nice. I can’t even write it because it feels challenging for me to believe it’s possible, but I’ll write it. The dream is that I would meet someone really really nice. A nice man. Like now now. At the airport. He’d Love me. Don’t look anywhere in your past, my Spirit tells me. If the past changes, it will find you. But be here for now. Present. You meet a man and he says let’s move in. And you do. Now now. And I do. I live with someone I Love. A man. I don’t want to do no roommate stuff or family stuff honestly. I want to know what Love is. Even with my family. 

Radiate, You say. Forgive everyone. Forgive everyone. Morning and night. You know the answer to all of this. Interface with humans every day. 

-I know I sound so weird to anyone reading this. LOL. 

Find someone to hug every day. Pray one more time. Prescription. One week fasting. By Monday see results. Tomorrow go ahead and reach out. Tonight – Do Feminine Power and right out clear intention. If nothing else, forgiveness every night and morning. Complete and total and forgiveness for yourself as well. One hug a day. A really, real hug. Find somewhere to cook. Two hours a day self care. Set a time now and be disciplined. Three hours if you need. Make a plan. Find somewhere to go and reach out to those you know. No more detail here… 

So if you don’t know what to focus on, if you don’t know what to choose, your prayer is that you do know what to focus on and you do know what to choose. A hot tub and a bath. Love songs. Choose Love songs. Choose to find something holy and love it. This one is for you, Laydie. Stop writing for a minute and be still. Just really, really still… 

It’s a week and four days later. I got off the plane and landed in LA and tried to sort out what to do. Thought about not posting this blog because it tells all my business for real for real. But I’m gonna post it, complete the past and move on. I’ll write a new blog today. 

Thanks for reading.

Love,

Laydie

The Past