Hi there.
Dear Journal,
I’d like to take a moment for just you and I. No audience. Just you and I. It’s weird. I think I was eleven when I first picked you up. I couldn’t tell anyone my secret thoughts but I had to get them out. And so I put them on paper and hid you under my bed and in my locker at school, where mom couldn’t find you. I wrote about boys. Always about boys. And my dad and my mom and my brother. They were always doing something. I had a lot to say about all of the things my dad didn’t do and all of the things my mom did do and all of the ways my brother influenced my life.
Now dad is dead and mom calls me to joke and talk about skin care regimens. And I am my brother’s best friend and he is always glad to see me. And now the boys, well, they are still boys, but writing about them doesn’t interest me as much any more. I am growing up, journal.
I’m a grown up now, in age and in mind. I left mom’s house when I was 18, went to college and travelled all around the world through work and school and sponsorships and through winning competitions and sometimes I actually bought tickets just to go places and see people. And sometimes people bought tickets just to see me… The boys grew up too, and I’ve been proposed to four times (only one got down on his knee with an actual ring). None of them worked out. Of the four, one is married and every now and then he checks in with me to see if I will be his mistress, one got married and is now divorced, one uses religion as an excuse to never, ever be in relationship with women, and one just sleeps around with people but never gives his heart.
I’ve had a lot of jobs, but my main jobs have been as a teacher and working in nonprofit. I’ve made a lot of money, even enough to buy my mom a house at one point, and I’ve been really poor. And my heart has been broken and, boy, have I Loved! Right now I’m transitioning into the dream job that I’ve wanted to have since I was eight years old: a writer.
As you know, religion has always been an interest of mine. I tried mom’s religion when I started writing in you at eleven years old, and I got really serious about it. But by the time I was 18, I had a lot of questions and no one could answer them. And so I bought a book, The Complete Idiot’s Guide to the World’s Religions, and I began to study different faiths. I argued with people. They argued with me. Somehow it seemed like everyone was always trying to get me on their team. Eventually I tired of arguing. Now I don’t have a religion per se. I don’t usually say that out loud because people will think badly of me, but here we are safe and people’s opinions don’t matter. I have had too much experience of otherworldly things to deny the existence of a reality that is far more than what our five senses perceive, but I have yet to find a dogma that I want to follow. For now, I pray and meditate and seek Guidance from the Source of all Sources. It is my own path, but every time I listen to the voice that speaks to me, miracles happen and I am filled with peace. There is a book, Oneness, that speaks to my soul, and I refer to it often.
Life has not been easy, but somehow I am here at the end of the first third of my life, and my smile is still in tact. I look around at the world we live in, and there is a lot of pain. Sometimes I feel all of the pain around me, including my own, but I have been working on releasing my own pain lately, and it has been working. My own pain is almost all gone… I’ve been pretty healthy for most of my life, but for the past year or so, my body hasn’t been well and in the past few months, I had gotten really, really sick. I thought I was gonna die. But I didn’t. I’ve finally been getting better in the past few weeks, but everything about me has changed.
So this is the new me writing to you today. I’m not the same person who started writing journals when I was eleven years old. I don’t quite know where this change is going to end up, but I am experiencing something that I’ve never experienced in my entire life. I am experiencing Openness. And there is a surety that follows me everywhere. I am not afraid of the future anymore. I’m just not afraid. I don’t need to know how everything is going to end up anymore. I just need to know what moves to take on a day to day basis. I used to ask other people what to do or try and figure everything out all the time, but now I ask the Source of all Sources and I get answers. I have been focusing on my health, but soon, God willing, I will be back to my full health and then I will get back to our favorite topic: boys. Except this time, I won’t be entertaining boys. Only men…
For now, though, I let the men be as I take time to cultivate the woman in me. For now, I take time to write in my journal and say goodbye to the things of old: boys, fear, conflict, and pain. I bid you adieu. I know that soon there will be no drama left to write about. What then? Then we get to be writers, you and I. Real writers like we always dreamed of. Starting with an empty page, we will write our lives into reality. The Lord said it’s OK. The Lord said it’s Time. The Lord said this is just the beginning.
I am exciting, but I will be patient and wait until the page is completely blank. There is no point in starting a new story if it’s built on a premise that no longer resonates with you. I will wait until my slate is clear and there are no past beliefs that may interfere with the growth of the new seeds I’m planting. I will wait until the pain of the past is completely healed. I will wait until my mind is completely renewed. I will wait until my faith is firm. I will wait until my vision is corrected and my eyes are pure. I will wait until my power is restored. And then We will write. Me and you, journal. Me and You, God. We will write a greater story than I have ever imagined. And I will call it my life…
Ameen.
Day 383
The Scribes
Hey there. Been deep in my emotions all morning. Started a blog then got a couple of phone calls and texts from different people and the mood has changed.
People will do that to you: change your mood for better or worse. In this instance, my mood is changed for the better. There is a film festival in town and I had wanted to see four movies but didn’t have the money. This morning, two different friends called and invited me to see two of the different movies that I want to see, and they are paying. That makes me happy. Just when I start getting down, God, you remind me that I have good people in my life.
I have good people in my life. I have sunlight coming through the big windows in my living room. I have clean water to drink and oranges to eat first thing in the morning. Yesterday, I bent down, and whereas my knee has been hurting for over six months whenever I bend down, yesterday I bent down and my knee didn’t hurt. My mind is a little more clear than it was a month ago. My emotions are stabilizing and I don’t feel like bursting out crying for no good reason all the time. And even when I do feel down, I recognize within myself that the feeling will pass.
And so I am growing… I am not healthy enough to go back to work or work a full-time job yet, but I’m getting better. And I’m grateful. The worst has passed… A friend of mine is coming to town soon to be with me and help me with my life and health so that I can hurry up and get better. This friend is giving up a few months of his life just to help care for me. I almost can’t believe it. I hear about things like this in books and movies but I never imagined it was real. People just care for each other? People just love you even when you’re not at your best and your not doing anything for them? Men? Many of my friends are men and they just help me. They don’t ask for a kiss. They don’t ask for me to birth their secret lovechild. They don’t ask that I sacrifice myself or do anything that could be detrimental to my health or wellbeing. They just ask that I get up, do what I can to get better, and get moving with my life’s work. They do not disappear. They do not abandon. They do things in their own way and at their own time, but what’s most important is that they do things. They are there for me, not just in word or theory, but in deed. They are helping me to believe that men can be good.
I never knew that I had so many people on my team. I have people on my team who are there through sickness and health. They will not let me drown… And I am grateful. Thank you, Allah.
You know, there will always be people who would hurt you and people who will help you. Don’t take it personal if you have had a lot of painful experiences. Your experience of life does not encapsulate the fullness of the Universe, no matter how much you’ve seen. Miracles happen all the time. I am a witness. I am over 30 and this is the first time in my adult life that I can remember feeling supported by other human beings. I have always felt so alone and so forlorn. And I have had good reason to think so many bad things about men and people. I have been hurt and betrayed and used a lot. But it doesn’t end there, you see? The story just doesn’t end there.
You can’t change other people. You can’t make anyone care about you or be nice to you. You can’t make anyone tell you the truth. You can’t make anyone see the best in you or be there for you. But you can change yourself. Oh, it’s the easiest thing to say and the hardest thing to do, but it’s possible. You can decide that no matter what, you are not going to give up until you stop crying every day. You can say sorry to people for the ways you have hurt them. You can read books and do exercises and eat food and pray and go out in the sun and find ways to nourish your being. And you can get your relationship house in order. This is the big one for me. It’s the big one for most people. Most people’s happiness or sadness comes from the kinds of relationships they have or don’t have with others. You can decide to be loving and to only allow people who love you into your inner circle. You can decide to let go of the manipulation and the headaches and heartaches and games and be willing to be honest. You can decide to communicate your needs so that people have an opportunity to be there for you. And you can decide to forgive and forgive and forgive so that the past no longer has a hold on your heart…
This afternoon, I am meeting up with a female friend of mine. Yeah, me. I have a female friend who actually lives in the same city as me. We talk about guys and hair and life. We went to the same graduate school so we can also talk about nerd stuff. And she reads books so we can have intellectual discussions. I like her. She came and gave me a jump when my car wouldn’t start. We call each other and tell the truth to each other. I am lucky.
I am lucky to be alive. I am Grateful to be alive. I don’t take this adventure for granted… You know, in physical therapy, there are two phases of healing: the first phase is when you just heal. You put things on the muscles to help them release tension and relax. You eat certain foods to support the rebuilding of certain fibers. Then in the second phase, you strengthen while continuing to heal. I am in the strengthening phase of my life now. I have done a lot of releasing. There was so much to let go of. My health has forced me to take a moment and relax and let go of everything. And I am still doing that. But now that my mind is clearing up, I can begin to start contemplating what this new part of life will be about.
I look around me. I am excited. I won’t be journeying alone. I am excited. I am tapping into a knowledge that sustains. It is the knowledge that even when things are at their lowest, even when all appears to be dark, as long as there is breath in lungs, life remains. And as long as life remains, choice remains. And as long as choice remains, hope remains. What is left is action. My actions now support the birthing of a life so beautiful. My actions support the healing and nurturing of one who has come home at last. For once I am not afraid of what the future holds. I welcome it. I welcome the transformation that is taking place. I am willing to change, surrender, let go and become anew. I am willing. I am willing. I am willing…
Ameen.
Day 382
The Good Guys
So. Hi there. My day has been totally different than normal today. I’ve been out of the house since early morn…
Don’t even know where to start. Yesterday I wrote on my calendar “Day 1 of the rest of my life.” For the next 22 days, I am committed to doing five categories of things a day: 1 thing has to be an action that will move my life forward (completing creative projects and submitting them, seeking income generating opportunities); 1 thing has to be related to taking care of present livelihood situations (like bills, food, doctors appointments, cleaning apartment, health, lawyer); 1 thing has to be related to connecting with another person (spending time w family/friends, sending out thank you cards, talking to neighborhood security guard); 1 thing has to be related to taking care of things of the past (debts, including conversations that need to be had and letters that need to be written, and also just random stuff that I have said I was going to give to people or do for people over time); and finally 1 thing related to my Spiritual connection (pray, read books, meditate, fellowship, write blog/journal).
I’m giving myself five days to do all five things. So for example, I had to do one thing yesterday, two things today, three things tomorrow, etc. But if I have the energy to do five things today, I will. So far, I have done something from four different categories today. I did some work on a script (life forward), I spent time with little sis earlier (connecting w/people), I stretched out in the sun (present livelihood/health) and right now I’m blogging (Spiritual connection). I think I will be able to pay back a debt before the day is over, and I may possibly be able to reach out to lawyer and job (past/debts). I’m not gonna push it, though. If I have the energy, I’ll get to those. But I’m already ahead of schedule.
I’m really glad, y’all. It’s 3:42 and I’m not worn out or depressed. I have some energy. And I moved my body around today and I don’t feel too sick. I reached out for help and people have been helping me. I’ll share one of the miracles that have happened. I didn’t even ask for this one. My neighbor has been out of town since January and won’t return till April. He has a two bed/two bath house and one of his friends is staying in one of the rooms while he’s away. He locked his bedroom up while he’s gone, because his friend can be a little adventurous, and before he left, he asked me if I could just keep an eye on the house from time to time. Well, to make a long story short, he called me yesterday from wherever he is, off on some island. We were talking about our lives and I told him that I hadn’t won my lawsuit yet and I was trying to figure out what to do as far as income. My neighbor suggested that I come and stay at his place for the next two months while he’s gone and sublet my apartment. I Love my neighbor’s house. I had never even thought of asking him to stay there…
God is good. You can’t tell me that God doesn’t exist. You can’t tell me that there’s not a force somewhere that makes a way even when we think there’s no way.
Yesterday, I gave myself a little pep talk. I sat down during my prayers and just talked to myself. I don’t care if you think I’m crazy. I needed nourishment because I have been getting really discouraged lately and things have been hard, and so I sat down with me, myself and I, and we had a heart to heart. I told my most vulnerable self that I was sorry. Nobody ever really feels sorry for me no matter how bad my situation is, so I felt sorry for myself, but not in a self-pity kind of way. I just allowed myself to have some compassion for myself. And I told myself sorry. I told myself sorry that I was sick and that I had been sick for so long. I told myself sorry that I didn’t have any money and that I couldn’t ride around in my lucky car. I told myself sorry that I had been struggling for so long. I said sorry that I had had so many heartbreaks and disappointments when it came to men and relationships. I told myself sorry that there was no husband and no kids in my life yet. I said sorry that none of my books or movies or songs had gotten out into the world yet and that my dream life was still just a dream in my head. And I told myself sorry that we were starting to believe that the dream was just a dream now. I apologized to myself because I know we had been sad for a long time, and I told myself sorry that we had gone so long without experiencing joy.
And then I talked to myself like a wise mother. “I know you have been through a lot. I know it has been very, very hard for you. And, yes, you have even made some mistakes. It’s OK. We all make mistakes sometimes. It’s a part of growing. I am so, so sorry that you have had to hurt so much. I am so, so sorry that you have had to cry so much. Guess what I know, though? You are very, very strong and you are very, very special. And I think there is still hope for you, Laydie. What do you think?”
I sat there and looked at my wounded, wounded self and realized that my mother self was telling the truth. There was still hope. And so I called upon Hope to be with me as I start over in creating a life by design. I called upon Love to be with Me. I called upon the Most High Holy Spirit to be with me and protect me. I gave myself permission to be strong. I gave myself to permission to vulnerable and receptive. I gave myself permission to be brilliant. I gave myself permission to be well. Mostly, though, I gave myself permission to be OK no matter what is happening in my life and I made a promise to myself and to the mother within me that I would keep going. Even if it took every ounce of energy in my body. Even if people called me crazy and gave me all kinds of advice that was against what I decide to do. I gave myself permission to be safe and protected. I gave myself permission to Listen to Guidance and to Follow it…
And so I came upon this plan, this structure. Five things a day for twenty-two days. It takes twenty-two days to form a habit and break a habit. And I’d like to break my old life wide open and start living the new. I made a promise to myself and I’m going to keep it.
My computer says I have three minutes before the battery runs out, and I want to publish this now, so I’ll stop here. Good day, World. Let’s keep going.
Day 281
Life By Design (Keep Going)
Good morning. I just deleted 649 words. Starting again. Haven’t sorted out thoughts in a while. Many thoughts to sort. In the ancients schools of mysticism, one had to be disciplined with one’s thoughts first and foremost, because they believed that thoughts created reality.
You know I have a lot to write about. I always do. Sometimes I start with a topic and sometimes I just flow until a topic reveals itself. This time I have a topic, but I also want to flow. Beggars are on my mind. Yes, beggars. I use that word on purpose because I know all of the negative associations that it brings up. I use that word because I need help. And I am going to have to ask for it. And in my mind, it makes me feel like a beggar. It makes me feel like, I, superwoman, have lost my powers. It makes me feel vulnerable. It makes me feel afraid. And it strips away all of my pride. And, yes, I have been proud. In my personal circle, I have always been looked at as the one who always has it together, even while I’m falling apart. I have always been looked at as the independent woman who can do everything on her own. I have always been looked at as the strong one. And I am still the strong one…
But this strong one can no longer do everything on her own. And I know that some people will not understand. In their eyes I will be considered a beggar. In their eyes I will be considered lazy or stupid or weak. I am not the fun girl anymore, or the adventurous girl or the one who always has all the answers and can work her way out of everything. I am not the sexy entertainer with the big smile anymore. I am the girl who needs help. The Old Prophet was my greatest fear materialized. He fell in love with all of my enticing qualities: my looks, my personality at its best, my strength and intelligence, my grace, my ambition, and my depth of Spirit and Love. But I became sick and fell apart right before his eyes. And when he saw me at my lowest, he didn’t hold me and help me. Instead, he told me that I was needy and that he didn’t know who I was… Needy. Because I asked for a ride when I was sick…
Mr. President had promised to help me, but he didn’t mean it. Disappeared when it was time to put his money where his mouth was. And I remembered that he had done that before: made so many promises and ran away or disappeared when it was time to fulfill them. I am beyond disappointed and hurt. I cried and grieved and then I opened my eyes. And now I am awake…
As a beggar, you see with different eyes. In a nutshell, you develop the keen ability to recognize the people who will help you for real, and the ones who either won’t help or who’s help comes with conditions and agendas.
It’s OK. At the end of the day, no one is obligated to help anyone else. But discovering the true dynamics of the relationships between you and the ones you have in your inner circle is a liberating exercise. When are sick and in need, you find out who is nourishing and who’s energy is harmful to you. You find out who is in your life to take and who is in your life to give. And you find out who is actually able to be there for you, because everyone isn’t able even if they want to be. You learn to receive the gifts that are good for you. You learn to let people help you. It is a hard lesson for one who is used to being proud and one who is used to doing so much on her own, but it is a lesson that I look forward to learning. I am going to have to learn to let people Love me. I am learning to let people help me. And I am learning that needing help does not make one person inferior to the other. It does not mean that someone is lazy or stupid or weak. It means that someone needs help. Choose to help or choose not to help, but leave the judgement to God and know that each one’s path is their own sacred path…
I have been humbled, God. I have been broken. And it looks bad from the outside, but something in me knows that it is all for my betterment and unfoldment. Something in me knows that I am moving up and not down; forward and not backwards. Something in me knows that humility is a necessary part of this journey. Something in me knows that a cleansing is taking place: a purification of my mind and my emotions and even my physical body. Something in me knows that I am on the cusp of a new way of being. I am going through an initiation of sorts and it is not for nigh.
They have always told me that I was a “healer”, whatever that means. They have always said that there was something about my hands or my voice or my words or my eyes. It’s not something to brag about. It’s not something special. It’s just a role that one plays in this grand design that we call life. There are healers and doctors, kings and queens, pawns and beggars. It is all just roles we play, none better than the other. All a part of the Grand Design.
To be a healer, however, one must understand the roles of all, and much of that understanding comes through personal experience until one is evolved enough to gain understanding without having to experience it all. A friend of mine told me that a healer must know sickness and poverty: A healer must know love and heartbreak. A healer must know success and disappointment. I didn’t know that my journey to the other side of happy would lead to a quest to experience the Life Divine, but here I am. I am in life school now, but I will graduate soon. To a different kind of life. Nothing like what I thought I was going for. It is better than what I thought, because it more than just having a man. It is more than just not crying every day. It is more than being rich or having stuff. The journey to the other side of happy has transformed into a quest to tap into the deepest parts of myself and bring forth the Truth which has been buried within. The quest is now to gather all disembodied parts of myself and love them. The mission is to become all of who I am really am. My highest potential. In spite of tears. Because of tears. In spirt of disappointment. Because of disappointment. In spite of all Appearances of lack and limitation. The task at hand is to go beyond appearances and to know the deepest Truth: even beggars are Blessed emanations of the Most High. Even beggars…
I am going to send out a Divine call for help now. You say You have always been here to help. I am going to open my arms wider than ever now, in a position of receptivity and surrender. I can not do this life without You. I can not move into the fullness of myself without Your Divine Grace and Protection. And so I accept the calling of my Soul. I open my arms, God. I open my arms…
And So It Is.
Day 380
Even Beggars
Good Day Loves,
There is so much to write about. I recognize that the length of my most recent blogs has increased by more than 50%. I think that’s a little too long, so I’ll try to keep this one a little shorter. The doctor put me on sick leave for another month and a half, but I’ll write about that another time.
So much has been happening, though. There’s so much to write about. I am exiting the land of the living today and starting a new chapter of life. By going through my entries, my experience with the land of the living should have been titled “The Land of the Dying”. I came out of my cocoon, fluttered around a bit, and realized that I still have a lot of growing and healing to do. The good news is, I know the areas that I need to grow in, and I finally know what has been wrong with me, and where I need to heal!
I want to tell you a story. It is part of the story of my life. All of my life I have been weird. I know, you don’t want to hear that. You want me to say special, or unique, or gifted, but that’s not the case, because that’s not how I have felt. For most of my life, I have felt weird. Different. Alone. I think the first time I remember feeling weird was in kindergarten. I went to a school where I was the only person in my class who looked like me. One day we did an art project. The teacher took pictures of the silhouette of our profiles, so it was our heads from a side view. Then we had to put all of our pictures up on a wall in the classroom… I looked at my picture. I was the only one with a nose like mine. I was the only one with hair like mine. I was the only one with lips like mine. I felt so different. My classmates didn’t say anything about my picture, but to me, it seemed everyone felt uneasy around it. That was my introduction to different.
After kindergarten, I was placed in gifted and talented classes, or honors classes. Two days a week, me and another boy would take a bus to some other school and we would do weird stuff like work with blocks and rubics cubes. The program was called SPIRAL. We would do math puzzles and just talk about ideas with the teachers. We never talked about ideas at regular school. The teachers just told us what to do. It was nothing like regular school. Me and the boy both knew that we were different. Weird. When we came back to regular school, we never talked about what we did in SPIRAL. In third grade, my teacher had a bookshelf and the students would check out books to read. There were just little kid books. When I went to check out a kiddie book, I remember my teacher recommended something else. She gave me TESS OF THE D’URBERVILLES to read. I knew that it wasn’t a regular kid book. I would read that book again as a classroom book in college. By the time I got to fifth grade, I was going to SPIRAL twice a week and then I had another class at my regular school that I went to. I didn’t even know what it was for. All I knew is that when the other kids went to PE and music, I went to this weird class with blocks and games. I didn’t like being different. I wanted to be normal.
When I was eleven, I went to middle school. My middle school didn’t have SPIRAL or the weird class, and the many of the kids looked like me. I took all my electives with regular kids and then I took my core classes like English and Math with “honors” kids. But I was always one of the smartest in class. The kids would look at me funny. I always knew the answers to stuff. Soon, I stopped raising my hand when the teacher would ask questions. I stopped telling people the grades that I made on tests, and I started trying to fit in. I wasn’t really interested in most of the conversations I’d have with my “friends”. They were nothing like the conversations I used to have with my SPIRAL teachers. But at least I had friends and at least people didn’t know that I was weird anymore. I got a journal, and in my journal, I would write my real thoughts. I would tell my journal who I really was. Every now and then, one of my peers would tell me I was “smart” and I would hate it. I wanted to be normal.
When I got to high school, I told my mom that I didn’t want to be in honors classes any more. I wanted to be with the normal kids. And so I was. The normal kids in high school turned into the normal kids in college. They accepted me, but they, too, always thought I was a bit weird. I liked to study stuff until I understood it. At one point I was very religious, even behind closed doors… Around college age, weird things started happening to me. Random people would come up to me and tell me things about my life. I remember being on campus once. This guy who worked in the interfaith chapel came up to me. He was a preacher or something. He told me that I had a calling on my life and that he could recognize it. I wasn’t interested in preachers or the idea of a “calling”, but he wasn’t the only one that told me that. It seemed like everywhere I went, at least three times a year since college, I would be approached by someone who I thought was a weirdo, who would want to read my palms or bring me to their religion or tell me that I had some kind of work to do with my life or some kind of calling. Preachers, Imams, priests, mystics and so-called prophets would go out of their way to engage me in conversation. Teachers would take a special interest in me. Men of power and prestige would court me. I shunned them all. I wanted to be normal. Yet, try as I did, I never fit in with normal. I always knew it. Me and my journal. We knew that I wasn’t normal. But I wanted to be! And, boy, did I try.
I formed an allegiance with all things normal. I refused to be friends with the elitist people who would invite me to their events when I got to grad school. By now, people had started thinking I was pretty, so I dressed down so that I didn’t stand out… I went above and beyond to show that I didn’t think I was better than anyone. I went above and beyond to not have what normal people didn’t have…
This has been the story of my life. Until now. I have come to a point where I can no longer pretend. If I tell you all that has happened since my last entry, then this blog will run too long. But suffice it to say that this weekend I was blessed with the realization and the admission that I am not normal, whatever normal is… It’s just not me. I have been in denial for far too long. I have been wanting to be normal and wanting to be me at the same time, and there is conflict there. Because I am not normal. I am different. It doesn’t mean better. It doesn’t mean good or bad. It means that what motivates me is not necessarily the things that my culture and upbringing would say are supposed to motivate me. It means that the teachers and preachers and mystics were right. I have always felt like my life isn’t quite my own. I mean, I like things just as much as the next person, but for the past few years, I have had no interest in the pursuit of things. The underlying thought that sits in my subconscious mind is “I have work to do. And I dare say what I know: part of the reason that my body has been so off balance and my energy has been so low is because I have been refusing to step into the Truth of who I am and do the work that I have been called to do. The so-called prophets and teachers were right.
I am not normal.
It just has to be OK. It goes without saying. Anyone who starts a company, writes a book, invents something or adds light to this place we call Earth is not normal by default. They are doing something that most people aren’t purposefully doing. Yet. They are living purposefully. It’s not what we’re taught to do. It’s weird. And it’s finally OK with me. There is no more conflict. I still Love the normal people. I still have a connection with them. At the end of the day, we are all connected. I have seen so much, God. I have been so much. I have been everything except special, unique, gifted, talented, honored, great. I have looked at those words with disdain and shame as if it’s a bad thing to be great. But what if you are great? What if you have really have work to do? What if you really are one of those people who is going to write the kind of books that you love to read? What if you are ready to read Tess of the D’Urbervilles when you are eight years old? What are you gonna do about it? Shall we pretend to be less than who we are forever?
My body won’t have it anymore. My Spirit won’t have it anymore. I take off the cloak that I have been wearing. Yes, I have been trying not to shine, but it is my destiny to shine. I know this like I know my own name. And so I step into my destiny. Goodbye normal. Hello Me…
Ameen.
Day 379
The End Of Normal
Good morning,
It’s 6:42am. I got up around 3 this morning and woke up with a beautiful poem in mind. I love those kind of poems. They just flow before you even have time to think about them… After jotting the poem down, I closed my eyes and daydreamed a bit more. Last night was my first night of really good sleep in a long time.
I’m grateful.
Shall I tell you what happened on Friday? I found out I’m not crazy. I’m seeing all these new doctors due to my court case against my job. Now, I have regular doctors that are fantastic, and although they never really gave me a diagnosis for whatever was wrong with me, they tried really hard and they continue trying/testing, etc. My court case doctors are a little different. To their credit, they do a lot of tests. Their bedside matter leaves a lot to be desired, though. So this Friday, I went to get an evaluation by their psychiatrist. She asked me one question: “How do you feel?” I told her that I felt sad and that I had been crying a lot lately. “Any other feelings?” she asked. There weren’t any. “Well,” she said, “I can prescribe some medicine for you. You can try it out and maybe that will make you feel better. You won’t be addicted to it, and maybe after six months or a year you can stop taking it.”
I looked at her. Incredulous. I didn’t ask her what kind of medicine she was prescribing. I know people who take depression meds. I’ve known them before they started taking meds and after. They are different with the medicine. Much different. I have nothing against taking psych meds, but I think they should be reserved as a last course for people who actually need them, meaning people who either can not function normally or are a danger to themselves or others without them. I wasn’t a danger to myself or others and the psychiatrist hadn’t asked me any questions to determine whether or not I could function normally. So I asked her, “Do you think I need this medicine?” “It’s up to you,” she said. And I asked her again. “Well, I want to get your opinion. Do you think I need them? Because if I need them, I’ll take them. But I don’t want to take them if I don’t need them.” “I think they may be able to make you feel better, but it’s up to you,” she said.
She must have seen the rage in my eyes. You’re about to advise me to take something that will change the chemicals in my brain, cause me to be addicted to a pill in order to function, and inhibit my capability of feeling good on my own just because I told you I feel sad??? I thought. With my sensitive body? I know about depression meds, and all of them have the potential side of effect that you may die or go crazy for life. You’re about to recommend this medicine to me and it may kill me or make me crazy for life, and you can’t even tell me that you think I need it??? You didn’t even ask about my coping skills or support system? You didn’t even talk about other alternatives? This is how you treat people when you think they don’t know any better? This is murder, I thought… She saw my face. “Maybe you don’t take it for now, and see how you feel in a few months,” she said. “We just want you to feel better…”
I left the office cured. The doctor wasn’t willing to put her job on the line and prescribe something to me that she didn’t feel I needed, unless I requested it. It meant that I don’t need psych meds. It meant that there is hope after all. I had thought there was hope, but it was good to be validated by someone who evaluates mental health every day…
For the past three days, I’ve been getting up and doing stuff. Without meds. I can’t say that it’s been easy. In fact, it has been hard. I have been pushing myself every day, but every day it gets easier. I have been dressing up like I used to, taking my time to lotion my body, condition may hair, do my nails and feet, match my shoes to my purse to my earrings, put on sweet outfits, and even put on a little make-up. When I walk down the street, people smile. It is amazing. Even in one’s lowest moments, you can brighten up someone else’s day
I have been following through and finishing the many tasks on my “to-do” list, slowly but surely, and they have been getting done. I finish at least one thing a day and then it disappears. Sometimes I do more than one thing, but I stop when my body starts to feel too weak. Sometimes I cry about things. Whatever… I think about the fact that about a month ago, I couldn’t even do one thing a day. My body wouldn’t do it. Now, when I look in the kitchen and my dishes are washed, or when I look in the mirror and see my skin is clearing up, or when I go out in town and run into someone I know and they tell me I look radiant, or when I get a little bit of money because I had followed through and posted an ad to sell the ridiculously expensive scarf that my ex gave me (selling that scarf made me feel so happy), I realize that the drowning is over. The tide is changing. I can do things to help move myself forward now. I am moving slowly, but I am moving forward. I am getting better. And I am grateful.
Everything has changed. I can honestly say that the past few months have been the hardest time of my life. Seriously. From the outside, it doesn’t appear that way. I have had times when I had less money and my living situation wasn’t as good, etc. These past few months, it wasn’t the outer circumstances in my life that were so bad. I mean, there was and is plenty to worry about in my outside life, but it was my inside life that had me so tormented. It was my inability to control anything that was happening to me. My health and body just went crazy and there was nothing I could do about it. My emotions just went haywire nonstop and there was nothing I could do about it. We think we are in control of so much. But then one day your body breaks down and your mind breaks down and there’s nothing you can do about it. And you realize that you don’t control everything.
I tried really hard to hold on to my health and my emotions. I tried really hard to keep it together. And then things got so bad that I realized that I couldn’t keep it together. And so I let it fall apart. I just let the pain come. I just let the avalanche of tears fall. I just let my body break. And I knew that I couldn’t get through this time alone, so I called out for help. And helpers came. Helpers came. I realized that I don’t have a lot of people in my life, but the ones that I do have… they are golden. My friends and family prayed for me. My mother held me in her arms like a baby and prayed for me. People cooked for me and brought me food. My poor friends who have very little money went to work and sent me money so that I could eat healthily. My sis and bro came by and checked on me. Mr. President told me that I wasn’t gonna die, and I believed him, because he’s the president… And I didn’t die. They didn’t let me die, God. You didn’t let me die.
Or maybe You did. There is a school of thought that believes that we carry imprints of all of our experiences deep in our cellular bodies. According to this school of thought, once one decides to transform ones way of life on a soul level, the cellular imprints are released. The process of release can cause a huge imbalance in one’s emotional, mental and physical bodies and one can become very unstable and sick during this process, until the energies are stabilized. Maybe this is what has been happening to me. Maybe I have finally been letting go of things on a soul level. Maybe. Maybe the old me has finally died and maybe I have finally learned the lessons needed to prepare me for the next phase of this journey called life. Maybe…
No matter how one explains it, there is no doubting that my entire life is in the process of change. Like Don Lee said “change. life if u were a match i wd light u into something beautiful.”
This is what change looks like. Change isn’t always some pretty, fantasy, butterfly-looking thing. Sometimes it is a caterpillar in a cocoon wrapped so tight that it squeezes the excess fluids out of its body. Sometimes it’s a former drug addict shaking uncontrollably as his body goes through withdrawal and cleanses itself. And sometimes it’s a woman crying for a month nonstop as she releases lifetimes of bottled up pain. Sometimes you just gotta let change happen. Sometimes, if you’re stubborn like me, there’s really nothing you can do except let change happen…
I can sense light coming in from the other side of my cocoon. Soon this part of the transformation will be over. Let me learn all I need to know, God. I am willing to change form. Let my wings be strong and beautiful, old scars transformed into beautiful patterns. Let my Spirit be light. I am willing. All that does not serve the highest purpose of my life is left behind. Soon I will take flight. Soon…
Day 378
The Diagnosis (Change is Underway)
Well,
I’ve been trying not to write about sad things so when I get started on a blog and it’s just a lot of depression, I delete it. But about four days have passed since I’ve wanted to write, and I’ve just written several entries and then pushed delete, so I think I’ll just publish this one, no matter how it comes out.
Depression has been courting me. Big time. I wonder if there’s ever going to be a time in my life when all of this is over. I wonder if there’s ever going to be a time when all of my bills are paid on time and I don’t have any major debts and my car is fully insured and I have no tickets anywhere… I wonder if there’s going to be a time where I’m actually a published writer and I make movies and teach stuff and help develop programs and organizations. I wonder if there’s ever going to be a man who just loves me, as crazy as I am, and is just there for me and is good to me. I wonder if there will ever be beautiful children and a backyard with a fruit tree. I wonder if my excitement for life will ever last for more than a week at a time… I wonder if happiness will ever be a normal state of mind.
In one week, Sir Deplier and I hung out three times. The last time, he came over and made the sweetest, healthiest breakfast for me. It was weird, though. He didn’t have enough money to buy the breakfast he wanted and he was kind of overwhelmed by all of the immediate changes that he has to make to acclimate himself to the states. I was nervous because him coming over to make breakfast for me seemed like a date, and not just two friends hanging out. Both of us were guarded and kind of mean to each other. We criticized each other… They were little things compared to the mean things people can say to each other, but compared to the innocent, supportive friendship that we had started building, criticizing each other was a big thing… When he left my apartment, he sent me a facebook message. His phone is disconnected, so he can’t call. In the message, he expressed his excitement about getting to know me and also said he had a good time and hoped that I had had a good time as well.. He invited me on another outing this weekend. He hasn’t said “I’m into you”. He hasn’t said “let’s date.” He hasn’t tried to kiss me or do anything physical with me. He checks me out when he thinks I’m not looking, but he always look into my eyes, or rather into my soul, when I talk…
It makes me feel vulnerable. It makes me feel sad. He thinks I”m this awesome woman. Will he disappear when he finds out that sometimes I can’t get off the bed no matter how hard I try? He’s only seen the goofy, outgoing, adventurous, sweet side of me so far. He thinks I’m a free-spirited type, and I am, but will he run away when he discovers that I’m probably not going to have sex with him unless we get married? Sigh… What if he thinks I’m boring? I don’t dress up and flirt like the French girls do. I wear my sexiness underneath my long dresses and skirts, not on my sleeve, and only a discerning eye can recognize it. What if he doesn’t like me? What if he’s just trying to play me because he’s new to the U.S. and he needs help with stuff?
I am full of fear. I don’t know if I want to to do the man thing anymore, God. I am so afraid of getting hurt. Sigh… I see that I have been sitting here in my cave for the past month or so, with my books and my sage and green juice. I’ve been doing stretches, going to doctor’s appointments and watching all episodes of whatever TV series… I haven’t really want to deal with the land of the living. Like a friend of mine said, I kissed the sky and it punched me in the face.
The Old Prophet… Well… It was too much. Ours was not the most hurtful relationship I have ever been in, but somehow it was just too much. I can’t do hurt anymore. I can’t do mean anymore. I can’t do lies and betrayal and abandonment and deceit anymore. I can’t do withholding love anymore. I can’t do putting each other down and selfishness anymore. “I’ve been hurt too many times, I’ve been torn apart too many times before…” I can’t do rejection anymore. I can’t do the whole broken hearted thing anymore. So I’ve been in my cave. Hiding. From all the mean things in the world. It’s peaceful here. There’s healing here. There is no one poking at me or getting mad at me for just being myself. There is no man trying to use me as a tool for his secret agenda… Friends and family come by every now and then and bring me chicken soup and sage and green juice… It is safe here. But I can’t stay here forever. Things will not move forward if I do not move forward. Sigh…
How does one get back to the land of the living after one has been traumatized? How does one get back to one’s dreams after one has failed and failed again? Should I be like the others and just settle? Should I just settle for a man who makes me feel like he’s never going to hurt me, even if I’m not really that into him? Should I just settle for a job that’s good enough and that pays enough, even if it means I will never quite live my dream life? My dreams are so big. Maybe they are unattainable. Who does that anyway? Who actually marries someone and both of them are truly in love with each other and both of them spend a lifetime being good to each other? Who actually gets the dream career that they had when they were a kid? Who does that? Most of the people who come from where I come from don’t do that…
As I am writing out all of these doubts and fears, something deeper in me is saying, “Girl, get over it. None of this is true for you.” The voice I hear is funny. It has an attitude, like me. “I know you don’t want to be strong,” it says. “I know you want to act like you’re all weak and stuff, and I know you’re going through a really hard time, the hardest time ever, but let’s face it. You’re strong. That’s just it. You’re just strong, Laydie. Be yourself, now. Free yourself, now.” “I know you want people to feel sorry for you, but there are other ways to get love. Love is here already…”
– We are not going to sink. We are not going to settle. And we are not going to fall apart without getting back up. We are not going to deny our strength and our brilliance. Our life doesn’t end here. You know it, Laydie. Close your eyes. You know your life doesn’t end here. So you pick up whatever motivation you can pick up. If you can’t do it for yourself, then do it for your mom. And if you can’t do it for your mom, then do it for your friends and family who still look up to you. And if you can’t do it for them, then do it for all the assholes who thought you weren’t shit and refused to see that this is just a phase. And if you can’t do it for them, then do it for your unborn children. And if you can’t believe in unborn children, then just do it anyway. Do it because deep down within you, beyond all your doubts and fears, you know you can. Deep down, beyond the grasp of depression… Deep down, beyond all of the hurt and failure you have ever experienced… Deep down, out of the reach of your fears and doubts… Deep down, you know that you are stronger than you think you are. Deep down, you know that your story doesn’t end here and you know that there is at least one thing you can do to move yourself forward today. Just one thing. Even if you don’t want to do it, even if you don’t feel like doing it, even if it makes you cry and hurts your body and you throw up and trip on your shoelace as you’re walking out of the front door, deep down you know that you can finish that one thing today.
It doesn’t matter how long you have been “stuck” at this place. It doesn’t matter how far behind you have gotten. Deep down you know that there is still hope for you and your life. Now is the doing part. Now is the warrior part. Nobody said you have to smile and be all happy in the land of the living. Even if you can’t smile, you can still do stuff. Deep down we know that. We can still make it out of this place. Eventually the smiles will come. We know that. We know that…
Ameen.
Day 377
Deep Down (What We Know)
A very interesting morning.
I spent the past few hours with the Vibrant One. I don’t have a name for him yet, as I don’t know where he fits or where he is going to fit in this puzzle called my life. Sir Exigent, maybe? No. Perhaps I will call him The Unfolder. But in French because his first language is French. Sir Deplier. It fits. Don’t ask me why he must be a Sir, but something about him seems like the knights of old: Sure and Brave, Flawed yet Convicted…
I am at my alma mater now, in one of the old fashioned libraries. Some trusting student just asked me to watch her computer. I guess I should be flattered. People always ask me to watch their stuff when they walk away and go to bathrooms. Why don’t they ever think I’ll steal their stuff?
But I digress. I can always tell when life is changing by the people who enter and exit my personal circle. This new guy, Sir Deplier, is someone who I had met once a year ago. He was visiting a friend of mine and my friend invited me, Sir Deplier, and my sis out for the evening. We all went out to eat and then we went dancing. Sir Deplier and I had a really good time. We both speak French, so I was talking to him in French most of the night and just joking around. When the night was over, we said goodbye and parted ways. He was returning to his native country in a few days and said that at some point he was going to come back to LA and relocate here. I didn’t think much of it. He was a cute and nice guy, but too far away for me to even consider the possibility of any kind of relationship with him. But we became Facebook friends. Less than a week ago, just as I was coming out of my deep dark depression and writing about warrior things, I got an email from him on Facebook. He said he was back in LA and wanted to meet up for a coffee.
So we met. We had tea, not coffee, and talked about the meaning of life. He had moved to LA in order to realize a childhood dream. We sat across a table from each other, and after he had told me about all of the hopes and fears that are typical of an immigrant life and expressed his deepest heart’s desires, he asked, “Do you believe in me?” A rush of energy flooded my belly and rose up to my head. Yes, I said. I did. I did believe in him. It was the weirdest thing. I had agreed to go with him this morning to help him get a California ID card and we prayed together before he left.
That was two days ago, and in between then and now, I had to stop and think about things. These men can just come up in your life and have you going crazy if you let them, so I had to assess what was going on here. Who was this guy and what was he doing in my life? What did he want? He hadn’t really hit on me during our coffee date, although he was very clear that he likes me as a person. The old me would have called him or sent him a text asking about his intentions for me, but for some reason, I decided not to go that route this time. Because, for once, his intentions for me really didn’t matter. God and I are the directors of my life, so the real question was, what were my intentions for me and was interacting with him in alignment with the goals I had set for my own life?
I prayed about it, and the Lord said that yes, interacting with him was a good thing. For once, I didn’t decide whether or not I wanted to marry a guy within two days of meeting him. For once, I didn’t already put him in a place. For once, I am relaxing and allowing life to unfold. And this can be a tricky thing to do. Because we want things. I want a husband and kids and a family. And I can’t believe I’m writing this, but I don’t want to make him my husband if he’s not my husband. And I will know if he is my husband or where he fits into my life once more information is presented…
And I don’t know what is happening to me. I am different now.
More than being excited about the possibility of having a potential husband in my life, I am excited about the possibility of having reciprocal conversations with someone. Today we walked around town like two young college friends, speaking our hearts, joking and telling our life stories. At one point I didn’t want to share certain information with him and he said, “Why not free yourself and give it all?” and I understood. I have met someone who is at the same place at the same time as me. We are different, of course, but we can speak the same language, we can pray together and we can both understand the necessity of making wholehearted decisions. Nothing else will really do at this point.
That’s what today’s blog is about. It has taken me more than twenty years to figure this out. They have written about it in books for years and I finally get it. Decisions. Where there is conflict in one’s decision, there is conflict in one’s life. I see it every day. I see it in my own life. You are never really free if you want to stop and you want to move at the same time. Your mind stays in dissonance and your life reflects it. And if you have a life partner who is conflicted about being with you, it is reflected in your relationship. They will cheat or lie or keep secrets or be unhappy or not give you all of themselves, etc…
Being able to make a real decision and stick to it until you have done all you can do to accomplish it is one of the major secrets to success and I have finally come to the place where I am able to do this. And God, You have sent me a Friend, at least. I have met an equal, another sure-footed warrior who’s choices are unwavering, another Brave soul who follows Your voice. I have met someone who is a respecter of life…
It has just been one moment in time, but it is enough to give me enough hope to take me to the next moment in time, wherever it may be and whoever it may be with.
There is an unfoldment taking place. I have never lived like this before. I have never just done my part and trusted and let life unfold.
Before we parted today, Sir Deplier asked me what I would like for my life. “Love and Success,” I said. Then he made an offering. He said he prays for Health and Peace for me, and that I should take care of my Success and Love will follow… I believe him.
And I am grateful. Today is a day to celebrate. The day you can look back at all you have been through in your life and realize that all of that is over… all of that is over… all of that is over… all of that is over…. A new life is unfolding. The day you can look back at all you have been through in your life and realize that all of that is over and a new life is unfolding is a day to celebrate.
Let’s celebrate. We are finally here now. We are finally in the moment and in the process without looking forward or backwards. We are here. Now. It’s a good thing. Thank you, God. It’s a good thing.
Ameen.
Day 376
The Unfoldment
Hi there!
I have been trying to post a blog for a few days now, but every time I get ready to publish, it freezes.
My body is tingling everywhere. How is it possible that I’m on sick leave from work, I’ve been in my house for the majority of the time for the past few weeks, there are very few people in my personal circle, and yet so much happens in a day? So much happens in a day.
We are energetic beings, each one impacting the other, and I am smiling and tingling right now because a vibrant soul reached out to me via email today. I am electrified by the thought of the possibility of being around vibrant people again. And I am grateful just for this thought. Thank you, God.
I don’t have a topic in mind yet, except that I want to write a blog today and finish it. Since my last writing, I have only been breaking down more and more, crying over this, that and the other. Who would have thought there was so much to cry about? This is what happens when you repress all of your emotions and feelings for years and years. One day, if you’re lucky, it comes out. And I am lucky. I am glad that everything is finally coming out… Whew…
Let’s start again, shall we? Shall we do warrior things now? I had given up on warrior things long ago because I was tired of being strong and responsible and always being the one everyone relied on and not having anyone to rely on myself. But my sickness has taught me something. There are people in the world that I, too, can rely on. They are warriors just like me! I had to reach out to them in my darkest hour, because I knew that only strong and wise and Loving people could help and so I let myself be vulnerable and I reached out. And I found out that I am Loved. And I am not alone. I found out that God is Gracious after all and even warriors can be Loved.
And so now that I don’t have to associate being a warrior with being alone and unsupported, I think I can give this weak chick stuff a break and get back to doing warrior things again. I’ve been out of practice, but I still remember how to push through and keep walking when your mind starts filling you with doubts. And I still remember how to get off the bed even when you’re depressed or tired. I remember how to pray! Oh, do I know how to pray! And I remember how to Love and be open even when I’m scared. I remember bravery. And I remember the days, once upon a time, when I used to get things done.
It is time to return. It is time to fight for what we believe in and who we are. But our way is not the way of the sword. Our way is the way of Truth and Love and Faith. Not cotton candy popcorn Truth, but the kind of Truth that can see a seemingly broken woman lying on the bed crying her life away and tell her with conviction that she is not broken! The kind of Truth that can stay a steady course, unwavering, even as one’s body falls apart. The Kind of Love that can and must and will Forgive everything, cast no judgement and yet honor oneself. And the kind of Faith that stands up tall even in the darkest night, knowing that victory is indeed ours.
These are Warrior Things, and I am an initiate. Allah, from this day forward, I fight for my life. Yes, I fight. I accept Power. I accept Strength. I accept Responsibility. I choose to be responsible again. I accept Progress and Success. I choose to move forward in life again, and never backwards. I am willing to release the past. I am willing to release all that is does not serve the Highest Possible Good for all involved. I am willing to be Divinely guided and I am willing to follow Guidance once received…
There is so much to write about. I am learning a lot. I am humbled. I am grateful to be alive. The world can be hard, but it can be Lovely, too. People can be mean, but you can be surprised by kindness from places least expected. Today I recommit myself to the land of the living. With your permission, God, I breathe New Life into my weary bones. I stand up and walk as the Warrior Queen that You designed me to be: gentle, fragile, kind, so loving, peaceful, strong, powerful, balanced, wise. A new Life is being birthed. A new self-identity is blossoming. We are whole. All parts of us now embark on a new journey. Even the sadness has its place. The mystic in us awakens. The alchemists collects her tools. The dancer stretches. The leader stands tall. The sweet child finds comfort in her other warrior peoples. As Sade says, we didn’t suffer in vain. No… The angels sing. Hallelujah. Hallelujah. The angels sing, and I sing, too.
Hallelujah.
Ameen.
Day 375
Warrior Things
Hi.
Good afternoon. It’s just about 3:00 pm and I’m sitting at my desk in my living room in my apartment in the middle of Los Angeles.
My desk is in my living room now. My desk has been in my bedroom since I moved into this apartment three years ago, as I have almost always shared the apartment with someone else. I used to spend most of my time in my room or in the kitchen, but now that I live alone, I have discovered that I actually have a whole apartment that I can roam around in! And the living room and little office space seem more appropriate to work in than my bedroom. I like the living room.
My home is becoming a sanctuary of sorts, and I have been hiding out here for the past two weeks. My dining room table is covered with fresh sage that a dear friend brought for me, and my kitchen smells like the flowers that my sis and bro-in-law left in the courtyard recently.
I am feeling Blessed and Loved and Grateful.
In the past couple of weeks I have left the apartment to go to doctor’s appointments and run necessary errands, but mostly I have been home praying, reading, eating nourishing foods, taking care of my skin and hair, watching the final season of my new TV obsession and crying my soul out.
I know. I have been crying a lot for a long time, but it’s OK with me. When I embarked on this journey, I didn’t really know what I was getting into. I was just trying to find a way not to cry every day. I didn’t realize that I would be led to an exploration of the deepest parts of myself and that my healing would entail me confronting and releasing resentments and pains that I have harbored for as long as I can remember. We’re talking about unforgiveness that has been in me since I was a little girl… It has all been coming up and there has been a lot to cry about.
What happens is, you open a can of worms. Most of us like to keep the can shut because we know that whatever is in there might make us feel uncomfortable. But whether you look at your deep-seated issues or not, they are still there. And although we can live relatively normal lives without really dealing with the things that keep our faces frowned and our foreheads furrowed all day; without really looking at the things that make us want to be so busy doing things just so we don’t have to be alone with our thoughts, eventually life gives us a blessing and some small thing makes us crack. It’s normally something that we’d never think would make us crack. I mean, we’ve been through tougher things.
Why would me breaking up with The Old Prophet cause me to be balling my eyes out for hours at a time? I’ve never actually weeped like that in my life. And I wasn’t even in love with him! What happened to me in the past couple of weeks, though, is that I cried for everyone and everything that I had never cried for before. My heart was busted open for real and every man who had ever uttered a word of Love to me, every fantasy of being anyone’s wife, came flashing before my eyes. Every one. And I felt the separation and the loss of so many connections.
The last image that flashed before my eyes was my first love. And I realized that I had never cried over him. Can you believe it? We were together for seven years. I fell in Love with him from the moment I had seen him. I was 16 years old and working as a cashier at a department store at the time and he was ten years my senior. He came to my cash register and said, “Yo. I like your vibe.” It was the first time I had heard the word vibe, but for some reason I felt bold and womanly with him standing across from me. “Vibe?” I asked while looking directly into his big, brown eyes. “What’s that?” We just stood there and looked at each other for a moment. Deep in each other’s eyes. He asked for my number and I gave it to him. I lied and told him I was 19 and studying English at the college. We exchanged numbers. We called and talked for hours that night, and the next day, while I was in the stock room of the department store, he walked in and gave me a big hug. I hurried him out and then he gave me letter. A Love letter. I don’t remember it all, but I remember this line “I don’t know what the future holds, but I know that I want you in my future.”
It was the first love letter that I had ever received and he was my First Love. He was my first everything. He’s hardly even been mentioned in this blog, but he was my everything. Our relationship started off as pure love, but before it was over it was only characterized by pain and he set the tone for every relationship that I’ve had since. He did all of the horrible things that you can imagine a man could do to hurt a woman: cheat, threaten, lie, belittle, call names, disappear, take my money, try to sabotage me, etc. I didn’t grow up seeing what a healthy relationship between a man and woman looked like and he was my first boyfriend, so I didn’t really know that I was in a dysfunctional abusive relationship until I was deep in it. During one of his disappearances (he was in the army and had gone overseas and just stopped writing or calling and didn’t respond to my letters or calls) a lovely woman called me on his behalf. She said that he had asked her to give me his address. She gave me the address, and it was the same address that I had been writing to for months with no response. “What is your name?” I asked the woman. “My name is Mrs. Such and Such,” she responded. “I’m a friend of Him.”
I knew then that he had been getting my letters and I decided to continue with life. In the space of a year I met a sweet guy, the best relationship I’ve ever been in. He was nice to me. He Loved me. We would walk in the rain together and draw pictures together. He would come by my place with cakes and say, “Let’s celebrate. It’s Tuesday!” We were both in school at the time and we studied together. When I would get tired or lazy, he’d come by my place late at night and make tea so that I would stay up and finish my assignments. He knew the story of my First Love. And a year into our relationship, my first love called and asked me to come see him. It had been more than a year since I had heard from him. I was torn, and because I didn’t know what to do, I broke up with my Good Guy and went and saw First Love. I found out that the woman who had called me long ago and had given me his address was actually the women who he had met overseas and married. Years later, I would find out that the two of them also had a son…
I eventually broke up with First Love. The last straw was when I had graduated from college. It was my first year as a teacher and by now he was out of the army and he was a truck driver. We had gotten into an argument and he was going ballistic, cursing and telling me all of the harmful things he could do to me. I went to my bedroom and locked the door. I immediately called my best friend and asked her to call and check on me in fifteen minutes and to call the cops if I didn’t answer. While I was on the phone, he picked the lock to my room and came charging at me. He snatched the phone from my hands and hung it up, cursing at me. I was afraid, but from him I had learned how to curse out men and I had learned that the worst thing that you can do when you’re around a power drunk man is to cower. And so I cursed him back and I must have struck a nerve because he came charging at me again. Just then my phone rang. “Hello officer,” I said. It was my best friend on the other line. “Yes, officer, he just charged at me,” I said.
And then my first love left as I stayed on the phone with my best friend reporting a crime which, thanks to God, never happened. And it was over. Except it wasn’t. I never cried over him. I wouldn’t let myself. And every relationship I have been in since has just been another rendition of my first. Some guy. Some instant love at first sight attraction. Some wonderful heartfelt words. Some action that is almost complete but not quite there. Some resentment. Some mistrust. Some name calling, cheating, abandonment, etc. Some disappointment.
It’s the same old story over and over again. This time it was an Old Prophet who thought he knew what Love was but has only just begun to practice what he preaches. The common thread in all these stories is me. You see, I know that there are women in the world who could never even fathom having the types of relationship experiences that I have had, just as I could never fathom experiencing the things they have been through. If nothing else, the part I have played in all of my First Love recurrent relationships is that I chose to be with them. I chose them. I was never forced or hypnotized. I. Chose. Them. And if we want to get all psychological about it, really what happened is that I chose men who reflected the dynamic that I had with the original man that I loved, who actually wasn’t my first love, but was my brother (not in an incest type way). My brother was the first guy that I had a deep connection with. And he was the first guy to completely ignore me for three months with no explanation when I eleven years old and I had done something he didn’t approve of…
This is the longest blog I have ever written, but I’m not gonna edit or delete it, because I have finally gotten to the root of it all. The First Cause. The First Pain. The First Break. Can you believe that in all of the years since breaking up with First Love (more than a decade) I have never cried over him until a few days ago? And it was only a few months ago that I had finally made peace with my brother…
I remember walking with a friend once, telling him about all of my sad stories. “Laydie, you’re going to be a great teacher one day,” he said. He said that everything that I’m going through is going to be relevant because one day I’m going to help people who are going through similar things and the only way I’m going to be able to help them is because I’ve been through it.
And I agree. I am already a great teacher and I’m getting even better. My heart has broken open at last. Oh, yes! My heart broke open like never before the other day. And guess what I found there? There was so much caked up pain, like ashes. Like rotten cotton balls. No wonder I couldn’t breathe. I cried and cried and cried until the ashes fell away, until the cotton balls and their stench were no more. And guess what I found? My heart! It was still there. There was a diamond at the center shining so brightly. It was still there. I was not broken after all, but I had to let go of all of the stuff I had been carrying for all of those years in order to finally see it.
I am not broken after all. And what’s more, my heart is free again. And what’s more, my mind is clearing up and I can take all of my experiences and make them useful now… There are underlying vibrations that we carry that thwart our very best intentions. If you are having trouble moving forward in life, look for the First Cause. It is always deeper than you think it is and looking at it can be painful. But the pain doesn’t last and the good thing is, once you release the original pain, it never comes back. It really doesn’t. You want me to prove it and I understand. But I know what I know, and I’m telling you what I know. The pain goes, but you have to let it go. You have to let it out and just let it go. I know, you want them to pay. Trust me. They pay every day just by being themselves in their shoes. Trust me. They have paid. Now release them. Allow life to flow again. The pain goes and you will find yourself whole and unbroken. And Free. To Live at Last.
Ameen.
Day 374
The Unbroken
hownottocryeveryday 