Big shock, I'm single. Still. I'm okay with that. Sometimes. But I can say that my love life is and pretty much mostly has been top notch, and the men who keep me company all hold a special space in my life.
Needless to say, COVID-19 has created quite a few moments of reflection for most of us. Other than a man I dated briefly 5 or 6 years ago (really sweet guy, such a loss), I don't know anyone personally that has succumbed to it, although I do have quite a few peers who have lost parents to it. My father and stepmommy are doing well to avoid the public, so I remain faithful that my parents are safe.
In my reflections looking back, I didn't really see any regrets. Perhaps my fairly recent deep dissent into grief after Pete died helped me to work through my shit before we got to this point, but I didn't see much need. Naturally, I had some thoughts to sort through, much like the rest of the world, but truthfully, I just went through life pretty normally, considering the cluster fuck that is this country.
It appears that others around me have been in reflection mode as well. Back in June, I caught up with an ex from my early 20's, who I occasionally chat with. During our chat, my ex surprised me by stating that he sincerely apologized if he'd hurt me during our time together. He admitted that he foolishly thought in his youth that he'd find a better woman to his liking. Dude is almost 50 and finally acknowledged how wrong he was.
I was floored. Wow! Damn homie. I felt like a huge weight was lifted off of me. I was young and foolish, in allowing him to leave and come back far too many times. He's actually come through for me after we broke up, on a few occasions, and I appreciate that.
Next up came Steve. One day, out of nowhere, Steve hit me up and said that if he'd ever hurt me, he apologized and said that I'll always have a special place in his heart. Even going as far as to say that I made him believe in love again. Damn homie. That's deep and really appreciated. Thank you.
The third apology is really what turned the tide. I'll just start by saying that Atlanta is small. Damned small. I manage to know a lot of people. And it just so happens that the woman my ex ended up with after me was a former homegirl of mine. I wasn't even angry when they got together (I'd already suspected it), but I more so took issue with the fact that as soon as the cat was out of the bag, she became a complete BITCH to me. Damn, sis? Alla that? And in further small Atlanta news, I happened to be homies with her daughter's father (this is some Flowers in the Attic shit, right?!). Baby girl could have easily just come to me and we talked woman to woman, and I wouldn't have had any beef. But my ex thrived on creating beef and drama in my life, so she and I ain't been cool since.
Anyway, I knew that she was a gold digger from some things she'd said in passing when we were cool with one another, so I knew that she was only clinging to my ex because he'd be dumb enough to pay her bills. And I'd always suspected that she'd leave him first windfall she got. And long story short, I was right.
I'll be honest and say that I had a few giggles to myself when their relationship ended in spectacular fashion (again, I know her bd, I saw the ending of their relationship before my bd even did). But after a minute, I genuinely felt bad for my ex, so I wrote him a nice text or two, encouraging him to keep his head up. My ex then surprised me by sending me an invite to the party he was throwing my son for his birthday. I don't typically do parties for my son, pretty much because the kid is an anti-social unicorn. The lil joker didn't even tell classmates when it was actually his birthday this year.
My ex suggested that we try therapy, just so that we could get along better. I'd literally begged him for us to go to therapy for years, so I said yes, just- well, just because. Going to the party, my stomach was in knots. I didn't know what to expect. I didn't know who would be there. I saw him and I tensed up. I wasn't bubbly, happy Malika. I wanted to go home. Every time he talked to me, I honestly wanted to punch him. He tried to make small ice breaker jokes, and all I could muster was a painful, terse smile. He tried to talk to me in private while there, explaining that counseling would help us, and even thanked me in his toast, saying what a fine job I'm doing of raising our son. But I hated him. I've never been so glad to go home.
I told my inner circle that he wanted counseling for us. All of them had the same question. "Why?!" They knew. They were there. They knew about the lies, the drama, the games, the headaches, the tears, the fights. I guess my loved ones knew that going back into the circle with him wasn't good for me. My agreement to attend counseling stuck, but it didn't sit right for me. I didn't want to do it. I mean, my friends and family were right. "Why?!" What did I hope to gain? How will this benefit me? The truth is, it won't. My son is 13 years old. He's independent and has his own phone. If I need to speak to my ex, I text him. If he needs to speak to me, he can text me. We don't need to start spending holidays together. I mean, I tried so damned hard to make our relationship good, even as co-parents after we separated. He fought me tooth and nail on that. And now, just because he had his heart stepped on, doesn't obligate me to be the one to patch him up. I don't really want him to suffer. I don't really care if he does or not. I mean, be good, namaste, all of that. But I don't owe him yet another opportunity. I'm good on that.
I texted my ex to tell him that I'm not going to counseling with him after all. He said that he feels that counseling would be good for us. I told him that I'm actually good, I don't need it. He said that we can always go later on if I change my mind. My response?
"I won't."
I guess I could say that it felt empowering to have these three men (and my son's father of ALL people) to apologize to me. And yes, it felt validating. I wasn't crazy. I wasn't the one at fault. That I actually was the good one in my past relationships. Yay! But wait-
I spent so many years, asking The Universe, "What's wrong with me?! Why doesn't he love me back?!" I've quizzed my guy friends so much. I've emotionally wrestled with so many men that sought to keep me in their bubble of sex kitten. Yeah, sex is cool. But what's wrong with me that that's all they can see? I've literally cried myself to sleep over this million dollar question.
So after these apologies validated that these guys were the ones who fucked up (one even posited the question to me "have you ever thought about marriage?" Bruh, I'm good on that). But once the validation waned, the anger set it.
I mean, hol' up here! You meant to tell me that I was actually doing every damned thing right, and now that you're in a better space, you wanna make amends? WHET?! I mean, are these assholes aware of exactly how much psychological damage was done to me with all of this gaslighting and game playing? Another thing that's wild is that these men are all from different parts of my life. And they all treated me like shit and later came to recognize it. They all admitted that if they'd known differently then, they would have behaved differently.
That's well and good and all. But it doesn't uncry a single tear. It doesn't really rebuild my shattered self-esteem (I had to do that on my own with A LOT of work). It in no way goes back up to that woman that was hurt over and over again and makes things right. I mean, sure, it's better now, because I'm better. But I'm not better because of them. I'm better on my own.
Truthfully, these apologies just make me angry now. I know that wasn't necessarily the intended goal. I'm just pissed off, remembering all of the times that I shouldered the emotional blame for shit that men are only just now recognizing wasn't my fault. And that's not fair and it's not okay.
So anyway, a day or so ago, on Facebook, somehow a post was shown, and I don't remember the context, but I recognized from it that I have actual relationship PTSD.
That came about because there's a guy I like. I call him Neighbor Bae. He's handsome, funny, financially secure, charming, we have tons in common, smart, well-traveled, honest. And I like him a lot. I started to wonder if I should try to enter into a relationship of sorts with him. But then I froze. I started to ask myself if I really wanted a relationship with him. And I couldn't say yes. Like if dude came to me and said "Malika, let's do this," I couldn't guarantee that I'd be down. What the hell is wrong with me? Ergo, relationship PTSD.
On top of this, I decided to cut the strings with my dad. I just can't take his gaslighting and shit either. I really held him down on some bullshit he dealt with recently, and he treats me like his cracked out daughter, not the educated woman that I am. Oddly, he and my mother both get their jollies bragging to their friends about how accomplished Malika has been as a single mother, while they both seemed to actively make my life harder. I just can't carry this load anymore.
So all of this brought me to the decision that I need to deal with my parental issues (and probably relationship issues) in therapy. I don't want to, but I don't really have a choice. I'm great in so many aspects of my life. I'm a great mother and have a great relationship with my child, I just landed my dream job, my bills are paid, my friends/support network couldn't be anymore top notch. It's about time for me to free myself of the bonds of toxic relationships. I hope to have a successful relationship at some point, but my paralyzing fear of the idea needs some real work.
Funny enough, I was in therapy a bit before Pete died and then after. I'd initially gone to this therapist while I was in grad school, as I needed to work out this fucked up relationship with my mother. And then later I went back after Pete's passing. I wanted desperately to continue working with my therapist after school, but she warned me that if we continued to work, we'd have to start delving into my mommy issues. Woo child, I most certainly was not ready for that. Nope, that's years and YEARS of shit to wade through.
But now, things are less hectic. My son doesn't need me as much. Work is less stressful. I'm not in school. I'm not even trying to balance a romantic relationship at the moment. This seems like the perfect time. So I can stop picking men that will need to apologize in the future.
