Competing with the Non-Compitetive

I attribute it to my traumatic upbringing with my sisters, but I have come to see that for some reason, some women just hate my damned guts. And it's not even necessarily anything that I've done or said, for some reason, some women just can't stand me. It doesn't matter that I've been nothing but polite, it doesn't matter if I stay out of their way, their target is often aimed at me. And the fact is that it's ridiculous and exhausting.

I've said recently how I started a retail job. Nothing too heavy, just a few days a week to contribute to savings and to be a bit more social, outside of home. I've been a cashier for so long, that this is really old hat. The only issue seems to be that one of the managers there (coincidentally, the same woman who hired me) has really seemed to have a strong disliking for me. And perhaps if this job were my main source of income, I'd care a bit more. But it isn't and I don't.

It started slowly. I happened to stop by the dressing room to chat with a coworker when I was off the clock and Goofy Chick (hereby referred to as GC) stopped by the dressing room to tell me that I was not to be talking to coworkers off the clock, as they work. Er? I let it slide. A different time, she got snotty with me over a headset between coworkers, over something that could have easily been addressed in person. Another day, I got paid from my main job, and mentee (the woman who got me the job) asked that I buy her a $40 pair of earrings. I'd just gotten paid, so I said sure (with the expectation that she pay me back). Another time, I was talking to a customer about my Coach bag collection, and I laughed about having 5 of them (I miscounted, I actually have 8 lol). That particular conversation was more so about how I called my mother bougie for owning the bags when I was a child, but I ended up purchasing them anyway.

Another moment was when I'd brought my laptop into work 2 days in a row, because I was having IT issues and needed to take it into work. I opted to bring it in and have it locked away, so that I did not have to risk it being stolen from my car and me then being tasked with the painstaking ordeal of replacing a government laptop. At the end of my shift, I went to the GC and asked her to unlock my laptop from the office. She then "jokingly" gave me grief about stashing my laptop under her desk (I had no damned clue that it was her desk, I merely stashed the thing where I was told), and walked in to find that she'd placed it elsewhere in the locked room. Honestly, I feel that as a retail worker, she felt some kind of way about seeing evidence of me having a life outside of our job, in addition to me having evidence of doing well financially outside of the gig.

I've mentioned to my colleagues that I feel that GC has a bit of a problem with me. They've all assured me that she's cool and couldn't possibly feel some type of way about me, as there's no need. And then today happened. I made my schedule so that I put down my free days 3 days a week, to not interfere with my other free time. I walked in today, ready for work, and was met by surprised looks- apparently, I wasn't on the schedule. As a matter of fact, I'm only on the schedule for 1 of my 3 open days. Fine by me, right? Heck, I'll take my ass to the gym, and post up in a coffeehouse somewhere. I pondered out loud why my schedule was what it was, especially during the holidays. I mean, I even was asked to come in during the past weekend (which I did), so clearly, there are a glut of hours to be worked.

But then someone happened to say in passing "I don't know, GC makes the schedule." I immediately knew what happened. I made it known to the managers that I am more than happy to take back my time and go home. I was again encouraged to stay. I even said to the store manager that I saw that I'm schedule off later in the week, and he pretty much told me to bring my ass on in to work my regular shift anyway. So GC tried to cut my coins, only to have her supervisor tell me to work anyway.

I worked my shift, as usual. No changes. But deep down, I was- I dunno, confused? GC was there, and she said nothing about the schedule change. She didn't bring it up, nor did I. I've been told (before today) that I should talk to her. But the fact is that I don't care about her enough to talk. This job is not my bread and butter (that's such an amazing feeling), nor do I really care about her thoughts or feelings about me to go hard for this.

I've had a previous job where a supervisor (also a woman) was just as petty. She'd make it a point to publicly go against me in meetings and say really slick shit out the side of her neck, once again, while in meetings. But during one-on-ones, she was a lamb. That was quite possibly one of the most toxic jobs I've ever had.

What always confused me about that job was once again, I didn't see myself competing with that supervisor. But I could tell from her catty and passive aggressive actions that she constantly found it necessary to keep me in my place. I didn't get it. I still don't. The funny thing is that I have continued to flourish in my career since leaving that dump. I couldn't be paid enough to go back there. I even continued to have nightmares about that job for 2 years after I left.

While with Dr. D last week, I'd found myself talking about how when I used to to church with Love, I noticed that the women there were a bit standoffish as well. Love isn't exactly a serial dater, so having the cute, middle-aged single Black man (and a well-respected member of his church, a minister, no less) suddenly pop up with me on his arm, couldn't have been too desired. Good thing they didn't talk to me, because had they known that his new girlfriend wasn't even a Christian, they probably would have burned him at the stake. But even then, I didn't consider myself in competition with those women. Love and I really enjoyed one another. And our relationship had nothing to do with any of those women who overtly ignored me whenever we bumped into one another in the ladies' room.

I'm just over this. I'm just in here to get outside of the home, be social, and collect my coins towards buying a home. That's it. I feel like the pied piper, just collecting bitter, angry, jealous ass women (and a few dudes), who'd rather hate me, than to take stock and fix the issues in their own lives. 

Look y'all, I'm not your competition. Never have, never was. But I gotta warn you. That by choosing not to compete, I'm already the VIP. Because I'm going to be joyful and love myself no matter what you do or say. I already won the match, and I haven't even warmed up yet.

Welcome Back to Therapy!

I've been meeting with my therapist just shy of a year now. I've really come to love and respect my time with her. I know from experience that finding a therapist who you enjoy and trust is pretty difficult and I feel very fortunate to have her in my life, even though it was my trauma that brought us together in the first place.

Dr. D had been away for the last month finishing up some trainings. In the meantime, I'd really looked forward to her return. There were updates with my family. More stuff that led me to further shut down toward them, while they simultaneously seemed to want more of my presence. UGH.

And then, there was Love.

I hadn't really talked a lot about Love to Dr. D before now. There was really no need. He was in the far reaches of my mind, nothing more than an occasional blip from my past. The men I'd talked to Dr. D about were my toxic ex and my vow to never cross paths with another man like him, and one other guy (another admitted mistake). As Dr. D and I got acquainted, I told her that I'd reconnected with Love and that he was truthfully the man in my life I'd come closest to marrying. My dear doc had a look of sheer shock on her face. "You?! Married?!" she said in her Nigerian accent. It's actually a bit funny to me that seems to be a common response when I speak of Love and my past intentions to say "I do" to him.

I have no one but myself to blame for that, however. I'll admit that I've been far louder in my cries for freedom than I have about my intentions to permanently boo up with any guy. I shared with Dr. D how I first met Love at a print shop as I printed out a paper for one of my first classes while at Clark. I looked at him and thought he was attractive, but with that baby face, I assumed he was a youngster, in his early 20s. As I stepped outside to leave, he chased me down and asked me to lunch. My first response was to ask his age. He surprised me be actually being 2 years older than me.

Quite honestly, at the time, I was a bit of an emotional mess. I'd just gone through some really heavy stuff in my personal life, on top of grieving my relationship with my son's father. I was coincidentally practically fighting men off with a stick. I was even considering cutting my hair, because I hated all of the attention it drew from men, but my best friend convinced me not to do so. I opted instead to wear my hair up in buns to avoid the leers of the male gaze. Anyway, I wasn't really trying to get with anyone in particular. Or at all.

Truthfully, had Love asked me for dinner or drinks, I would have rejected him instantly. But I loved that he asked me for lunch. Drinks or dinner hints at possible sexual opportunities. I took him asking me to lunch to mean that he really wanted to see me out of the bedroom, which was the only male attention I wanted or needed at the moment. He later told me that as he saw the title page of the paper that I was printing off, he was impressed, and felt that I must be pretty intelligent. And the rest, as they say, is history.

I also then shared with Dr. D what it was that made me finally break things off with Love. Essentially, I felt crowded, while simultaneously not feeling supported. All of the flowers, cards, and candy in the world means nothing if you feel like your partner isn't hearing, seeing, and accepting you as you are. I talked about how things fell apart (at least for me) during the wedding planning and some things that were important to me were being completely ignored, I also told her the things where Love said he'd felt things began to fall apart.

I went on to tell her how during our last couple meetings, he and I have cleared the air on a lot and how I'd love nothing more than to try "us" over again, as he and I have both brought more life experience, patience, and understanding into the fold. Strangely enough, while we'd planned a nice wedding before, if I got married these days, I'd opt for maybe 50-75 people, and keep it fun and simple. Nothing too fancy and not really Instagram worthy either. Doc chuckled hearing me discuss the possibility of a wedding/marriage of my own.

I admitted that while Love is clearly decompressing from his last relationship, I just have to be patient. I had a bit of "come to Jesus" moment yesterday while meditating, and I essentially recognized that I need to continue to focus on myself and that if I truly love Love, than I need to back up and allow him to process and grieve on his own accord, much as he did the same for me when we met. And if we get together, great. And if not? That's okay too.

Dr. D seemed rather pleased that there is actually a non-toxic man out there who I'm capable of loving and willing to spend the rest of my life (or at least a significant portion) with. I missed her terribly. As a mental health professional myself, I understand fully how sometimes you have to get those trainings in, lest your license/accreditation be rendered useless. But it felt nice to share this part of my life with her. I'll tackle the family stuff later. But for now? This lil corner in Dr. D's office is for me to talk about Love. Or at least my thoughts of being open to it.

Back Outside

Once again, I have a post that I feel belongs solely in this space- a post about my growth and personal changes. Anyway, I believe that I'd mentioned before that I took on a local retail job to build up some extra money. I never questioned if that was good move for me. I've worked retail for most of my adult life. Even after I first graduated with my master's degree and I had my first jobs in my field, I stayed right there in Petsmart. It was comfortable. It was familiar. It was my back up. I knew retail. 

When I decided that I was ready to step back into retail after a year of working from home at my current full-time job, and a few years only working in my career field, I decided to ask my mentee to hook me up at the place where she worked. I'm too grown and experienced to be running the streets and walking in and out of stores, looking for something barely above minimum wage. Thankfully, her place called me back almost immediately.

Outside of the extra coinage, I was thankful to have something to dress up for once again. Working from home makes you suddenly become a person who lives solely in sweats, because there is no one nearby to look presentable for. It just seems pointless to get dressed to the nines to go sit in a coffeehouse and then go for a Target run. Hell, even showers become optional. But after nearly a month at my new side job, as much as I liked the new people I worked with, I started to face a strange new truth- I have absolutely zero in common with my retail coworkers.

When I'm at my full-time job, I have meaningful conversations with nearly everyone I encounter. We talk about our vacation plans (I was stoked to spend my birthday in Alaska this year- no regrets, it was stunning!), we talk about finances, we mostly have similar educational backgrounds and career experience, many coworkers at my full-time job are even close in age. And while I have very little in common with the retail acquaintances I now share, I struggle to find out where I fit in this new puzzle.

I'm not quite sure how or why it hit me so hard. But all of a sudden, I noticed our disconnect. I live in a rather expensive side of town, nearby the job, and I'm thankful to pay my rent every month, without much hiccup. Most of my coworkers live further out, where the COL is a bit cheaper. I find myself talking to the customers, who mostly live close by, about interest rates and real estate. Or we may talk about our careers, while I discuss my full-time job.

I don't have quite the same rapport with my coworkers at the retail spot, save for the managers who I occasionally chat it up with. I have a therapist, whom I pay out of pocket, and I openly discuss how much I love her. None of my coworkers at the retail spot say much when I mention her. Not that I expect them to. I feel like most of them have no idea what it's like to have a therapist on deck, just for overall emotional support. So how could they comment on something they really can't relate to?

And for some strange reason, this epiphany hit me kind of hard. I'd spent so much of my adult life working low-paying retail jobs, at what point did I no longer feel connected to my fellow retail workers? I should probably feel proud to have moved into another space in my life. But it felt wrong for me to acknowledge that I no longer felt like a retail worker. I felt like I was almost slumming it by working there. On every level in my body, I feel like I am no better than any worker in that store. But we seem to not connect. I just don't feel like I fit in that space anymore and I'm wracked with guilt over it.

A coworker at my full-time job is talking about flying me out to see the Northern Lights with her in the early spring. Another coworker there just got back from Jamaica and she's heading to Cancun for her upcoming birthday. I'm still very much working on having not just one book, but two books under my belt. These are things that I am beyond proud of, as I should be.

I'm not sure how much longer I'll be working retail. The plain fact is that I'm exhausted. I look like I'm in my 20's, but my back and knees are telling a completely different story. I've only been here for a month, and I'm already thinking that I'm too old for this shit and the fact is that I don't need this shit, especially as we go into the holidays and the lines are getting heavier. Maybe I'm getting too old for this and I need to accept that? How can I accept that without feeling elitist? The old me would have rightfully felt quite insulted had someone confessed these feelings to me back then. But much like many other things in life, the experience is quite different once it is something you personally face.

On another note, on Thursday, while my son was getting his hair cut, I'd rushed off, and walked into a nearby department store, in an attempt to get some extra steps on my pedometer. While mindlessly walking around, I ran into a guy who runs a local record shop. We embraced briefly, when he invited me to a podcast that was being recorded at his shop that evening. I gladly accepted.

I walked into the event that night, stressed from the day's chores, but glad to get away. Outside of the friend who invited me, I didn't know anyone. I settled into a couch, next to a man I'd never met. We sat silently, before I finally reached over and gave him my hand. "I'm Malika," I started. He gave his name and I commented on the Temple sweatshirt he was wearing. Within minutes, we were familiar chums. Moments later, another man I'd known, a former writer for Creative Loafing, walked in. I excitedly hugged him, and quickly introduced him and the man I'd just met, secretly hoping they'd make a love connection.

Someone also introduced the photographer of the event. He was a man who's name I'd known, as one of his recent picture books featured a few pics of my best friend. I introduced myself to him and bought one of his books for my friend. I appreciated his dry wit, and I offered him to meet me for coffee one day. He gladly accepted.

Eventually, the show started. I didn't recognize any of their names or faces of the male hosts or the female guests, but I quickly saw that that they would be great assets to the project I'm currently working on. The topic was essentially generational music and passing the torch in the Atlanta scene. Both women talked about attending Tambor parties, and while Tambor isn't quite my scene, I'd consider it adjacent to me, as quite a few of my friends frequent them and the last time I went to one, I saw some of my people there. One woman also happened to be the wife of a well-known tattoo artist I'd once met in passing. For me to be in a room with mostly strangers, I somehow felt like I was among friends and family.

Once recording stopped, I quickly walked up to both women and introduced myself, and announced that I am a social worker. Both women hugged on me and presented me with business cards. Afterwards, the music started. House music. Everyone in the room danced and laughed. The energy was electric. And I had a sudden thought. 

"I'm home."

I don't think I'd realized how stressful the last few years had been on me. I didn't realized that I'd kind of cocooned and went internal for a while. Minimal casual dating/sex. Not really looking to make new friends. Just sticking to what I knew and what was familiar. I focused on my job, my son, my finances, and my sanity. I needed to feel secure again. And I got it. I feel secure in myself. My soul, my spirit, my mind, my body. My energy. 

Still okay with Dexter, even tho I realized things with Love ain't happening. I'm okay just booing up with Dex for cuffing season. I'm enjoying my life on my terms. Just like I'd told Dex before, I have made the mistake of trying to fit people into the mold I want them to be. I'm meeting them where they are. And I like that Dex is where I am. Just living life on life's terms. No expectations and no attempts to move things from where they currently fit naturally.

I'm back outside. And this feels good.

The Circle of Life/Love

I know I'd sworn off my beautiful little corner, but sometimes things happen that just make you miss that version of home. I consider the last 24 hours to be that. I'd started a new blog elsewhere, and although it does still exist, I'll admit that I missed this space and I didn't write there with the same fervor that I did here. 

Anyway, as the seasons change, it has shamefully been a while since I'd felt the touch of a man. I'm so exhausted by the bullshit games that I've really opted just to do my own thing. There was a guy I'd been eyeballing for some months at my old apartment, and we had a brief fling, but I got sick of his inconsistency and he eventually faded away, which I'm actually thankful for. Cuffing season is here, and I have nothing to show for it. I mean, sure, I have a job that I'm proud of, and my bills are paid. But the fact is that my itch hasn't been scratched for a while. 

I'd started a part-time job as part of my desire to save money for some goals that I have. One of the men there happens to be rather nice looking, and he and I happen to be from the same neighborhood, and have some mutual friends. I'd been slowly working on a way to see if dude was interested in just keeping me warm during this holiday months, but when I called him yesterday, he didn't pick up. Ugh. Okay, hint taken, playboy.

I opened up my Instagram page, and the first post on my feed happened to be a musician whom I'd had an interesting spin with a few years ago. I'll call him Dexter. I'd sworn him off when after our last time, I just felt- eh. Funny enough, when I first met him, I was beyond head over heels. I know I wrote about him some years ago, but I don't feel like going back through to find the post. 🙄

We met at a party. He was sitting at a chair nearby. We started talking casually. By the end of the night, I practically wanted to inhale him. I wanted to know more. I learned that he'd had a girlfriend, and was heartbroken, but I scaled back, even though I combed his social media for all I could find. 

The following year, I saw Dexter again. I was determined not to let him get away (he and the girlfriend were no longer a thing). Part of my growth was acknowledging that I put expectations on him back then that were my own, and I was heartbroken when he fell short of who I wanted and expected him to be. I felt that he'd broken my heart, but the fact is that I broke my own heart. Yeah, he did some mess. But so did I. It was nothing but love tho.

Back to today- the guy at work was a work in progress. Plus I was really tired of the song and dance of trying to figure out when and how to approach him about "outside activities." I'd been attempting to play it cool and warm him up to the idea slowly, but I was sick of trying to figure things out. And Dexter's Instagram post was right on time. He's a well-traveled musician. I saw the post that featured some of his music, and I thought back on the night that I sat in his home while he play piano. I decided that since the new potential was playing hide and seek, I might as well hit up the old familiar.

I inboxed him, and asked if he was in Atlanta. I'd seen that many of his last few posts were international. He confirmed that he was, in fact, in Atlanta, and asked what the move was. I wanted to play coy, but the fact is that he and I have warmed one another's backsides enough that I knew that beating around the bush wasn't necessary. I told Dex point blank that it had been a minute, and I needed the touch of a man. I loved his response of "I'm happy to take care of you." Woo chile.

I pulled up late night at the venue where he was. He gave the most amazing hug. He said his goodbyes to his people and we were off. As we walked toward the car, he held his hand out for me to hold. After I royally fucked our previous friendship up by expecting more than he wanted to give, I was wary to take his hand, and I told him so. I said to him "if I hold your hand, I'm going to want you to be my pretend boyfriend," fully expecting him to put his hand in back in his pocket. He shook his hand as an indicator that he wanted full-on hand-holding. I obliged.

While we strolled to the car, I explained to him that I recognize that during our last trip together, I now know that he didn't want a girlfriend- at least he didn't want that from me. And I respect it, and I knew to tamper my expectations this time around. His response? "We'll talk."

While riding, he discussed his time floating around Europe and Africa, and he talked about some musical projects he's been involved in. We both talked about growth. I talked about my love of my job and my financial frustrations. We talked about the past girlfriend he had, and we talked about the mutual acquaintance we met through. We talked about that sticky time in our lives, and how we were both admittedly, a bit of a mess back then. I told him that I recognize that he didn't want me like that back then, and I should have respected it. He looked over at me and said "honestly, I didn't know what I wanted, and I'm still figuring out now what I want." I found his honesty and reflection refreshing.

He confessed that he's made a decision to be more intentional about choices that he makes and that he now realizes that not all of his decisions were wise the last time around. He's scaled back on drinking and smoking, and that he no longer engages in druggie culture that a lot of musicians get into. He'd shaved his head and scaled down his beard. He even looked lighter in the face. He looked more clear and at peace. I was happy for him.

We pulled up to the spot and walked in together. As we stripped down to our night clothes, we didn't get straight into the nitty gritty. He held me. He kissed on me. He caressed me. I again warned him that his behavior was getting him dangerously close to becoming my next pretend boyfriend, but he carried on, not skipping a beat. At some point, I caressed his head and told him that while sex is a dime a dozen, I really missed what he had in that moment-intimacy. The familiarity. Being with someone who sees you and hears you, and recognizes your growth. He looked at me and softly nodded in acknowledgement.

Somewhere during this time, I decided "yeah, he's my pretend boyfriend." And while I recognize how juvenile this was, he humored me, which made me appreciate him that much more. As we parted ways, I then explained that part of being my pretend boyfriend meant that I expected regular dates and meetups. And that I'd occasionally call him to vent when I was having a difficult moment. He giggled and nodded in agreement. And when we parted, he kissed me. Not some half assed hug, he kissed me on the lips. It was everything. It was intimate.

As if that wasn't beautiful enough, I recently noticed that a post that was on my social media had been liked by a moniker of my ex-boyfriend, Love. Coincidentally, I'd been looking for Love a lot online within the last month or so. He's never been the social media type, so I looked for any hint of him that I could find. I immediately inboxed him. 

We chatted briefly. He told me that life has kicked his ass (as it's wont to do), but he's hanging in there. I suggested we meet up for coffee today at noon. He agreed. I walked into the spot, not knowing what to expect. He wasn't in there. I go order my drink, and I look up a few minutes later to see him walking in. I saw that big goofy grin on his face and I instantly melted. We hugged long and hard. We settled in on a nearby couch and began to catch up.

He shared about his mother's declining health and his former fiancé who struggled with some mental health challenges. He basically talked about some genuine trauma he'd experienced. He admitted to some rigidity he experienced from some religious dogma he took part in back then. I talked about Pete. I talked about Ali. I talked about my career. We talked deeply about mental health. We discussed things from our past relationship. I was flattered when he told me the many things that he appreciated about me and how good I always made him feel. We talked about growth, and failure, and challenges. By the end- I wanted so bad to say "yo, I love this version of yourself, let's try this again!" 

Oddly enough, being that I practically just bid goodbye to my new pretend boyfriend made me not want to. I mean, I know it's not real, and I could call Dex and simply say, "I'm going to spin the block on my ex from a decade ago, no love lost" and I know he'd accept it. But I don't want to. I sure as hell didn't expect to love this new version of him as much as I do. He's admittedly a bit more cynical this time around. But I think he needed that. We both did. I'd love to give Love another go. But not now. I want to know him first. At least, I'd like to get to know this new version of him and be friends with that person first.

I drove away from Love feeling- I guess feeling Loved on. So many of my recent encounters with men have been toxic and drawn out. Filled with addiction, resentment and bitterness. Trying so hard to guard my energy from unhealed trauma of the men around me just exhausted me and caused me to retreat. I can deal with breaking up- but I was tired of all of the emotional baggage from the broken men around me.

I don't expect perfection. I just want honesty, respect, and a touch of introspection. And I got it from not just one, but two past significant men in my life, within a 24 hour span. I was heard, and loved on. I was touched and caressed, and heard and validated.

I told Love that I'd like us to do coffee again in the future- he said knowingly that we'll see one another again soon. When I settled back into home, I pulled up Facebook, and wildly enough, the picture from 10 years ago, to the day, was the picture that I'd posted with Love.  Who knew then that we'd meet up one decade into the future and see one another for the first time in 9 years?

So yeah, only that much energy could bring me out of my online shell. I could have posted that on my new blog, but this day belonged here. This moment belonged here. These feelings belong here. I don't know what things will look like with me and Dex or me and Love. Strangely enough, I don't really care. I'm not focused on it. I'm just in this moment. And in this moment, I feel accepted and appreciated. That's all I ever wanted anyway.

Mindful Detachment

Ugh. So I'm proud of myself, but sometimes I miss my petty side. As I worked on my journal today at work, I had an epiphany of sorts. I need to detach. Earlier in the day, I met with a woman who asked me to mentor her. She's new to town and trying to land a job and meet up with a few people I'm connected with. I told her that I don't play about my mentorship and I'm all about accountability. She said she needed that. I got her resume updated under my care. Then it was time for me to head to work.

My first caller of the night contacted me and he was angry, and I was annoyed. By the end of the call, the man told me that I should be a therapist and that I helped him so much. I've heard it several times at work from people I speak with and I struggle to accept that. While I work, I picked up my journal and picked up from where I was last.

Today's entry was about mindfulness. Right up my alley. It called for me to meditate on my mindfulness intention. Again, right up my alley. But I wasn't being completely honest with myself. I was troubled. I needed to detach. I started to feel that what was mine was no longer mine and it held me in a negative loop. It became clear to me that I need to detach. The beautiful thing is that detachment isn't the hurt  to me that it once was. I genuinely find beauty in it now. Leaving things as they are, to be weightless just makes sense when you're being held down by negativity.

In short, I decided that I need to step away from my blog space for a while. I love my blog. It is home. It is my safe space. Or at least it was. I will always write. I will always grow and bloom. But I need to eradicate myself from toxic spaces and forces and be light. Not sure when I'll pop up again. Could be weeks or months. Or I may just rename this and find a new safe space, where I can keep all of my entries collected safely together. Or maybe just start another blog entirely? Sounds like a good idea. I dunno tho. I don't really care. But I know that I owe it to myself to move forward, without the weight of shadows. The crazy thing is that I'm not sad or mad. I'm apathetic, but in the most beautiful way. I'm apathetic because I accept that the extra weight that I'm carrying is not good for my soul and I owe it to myself to pursue what makes me happy. True joy is being able to find happiness internally, no matter what you face externally. And there I was.

I'll admit, this was a bit of a last minute decision. But the more I think about it, the more I like it. I've outgrown this space. It's still mine. These are my words, and they carried me and sheltered me through a very chaotic period in my life. But I'm ready to move into another space. I deserve that. I don't consider myself "crazy" and I certainly don't consider my life "hard." Those were only things I encountered when I struggled with myself. I no longer do.

Coincidentally, I've been heavily watching Angela White's transition from Blac Chyna and I have been cheering her on so much. I am so beyond proud of her. I love to see people win anyway, but I light up from inside out when I watch a Black woman win. Some have accused her of exploiting her growth for coins. Obviously, I'll never know what is in the heart of another human being. But one of my favorite videos was when she got her facial fillers removed.

I love how innocent she was during that whole thing. She was almost childlike, her eyes so big. It was all so new and refreshing for her. Her voice high and light. She was clearly stepping into a new space and I was so happy for her.
***

So here it is, the following day, since I never got to submit my post from yesterday. I woke up and pondered on my day. With my child away, I decided to focus on some cleaning and decluttering. I already felt lighter. I knew that I needed to finish off this blog the right way. I debated going to my favorite local coffeehouse, but I chose not to. I needed to take advantage of my energy boost and clean up and just focus and go internal for a while.

My new therapist has talked about me taking meds. I explained to her that my weird tolerance makes it so that my ADHD medication only works for a day or two. Four max. And then it does nothing. It's so frustrating. I've just had to learn new coping mechanisms, but the meds make me so much more functional. I once asked a pharmacist about this, and he said "I don't know, maybe you have a super liver or something." Trust me, that's not nearly as cool as it sounds.

While I was calling around, I decided to check in with my best friend about my new favorite thing, the Afro Unicorn.

While there, we checked in on other things. I told her that I'd been chatting with a local artist who is well-known. He invited me to attend an Art Walk in Asheville in a few weeks. I told her that I'm considering it, but I'm really trying to focus on putting all of my money into my upcoming birthday trip. Plus I'm not sure he's ready to move past his last relationship. Truthfully, I don't care. I'd be okay if we're just friends for a while. I'm not in any kind of rush to get serious with anyone. 

I told bestie that I offered a few hundred bucks to a mutual friend of Fred and mine, so I can crash at her spot for a few when I land in LA. She agreed. She's a creative and well-connected. I really like her. Bestie asked if I plan to see Fred while I'm there. I answered plainly, "nope." 

Fact is that I don't have anything against Fred in this space. I don't hate him. I don't resent him. I don't regret our time together. I appreciate the good. And there were a lot of good times. But I'm ready to move into something else. And that's why I think this is a good place to leave this particular blog. 

Far before I began to follow Buddhism, one of my favorite parts in the movie "What's Love Got to Do With It?" was (not the limo scene) when in court, how Tina Turner wanted nothing but her name when leaving Ike. She didn't want the fancy cars or furs or jewelry. She wanted her name. And I didn't get it at the time, but I certainly do now. She detached herself. She did that to be free. Because I finally realized that only when you detach yourself of worldly things can you really be free to live your life without restrictions, worry, and doubt. I get it now. And I can recognize how my attachment here only fueled another person's unhealthy attachment to me, and in order to try to get my peace back, I gotta peace out.

I'm really starting to see the amazing impact that Buddhism and mindfulness has had on me. I feel freer than I have in my whole life. No excuses. No hostility. No turmoil. I don't feel the need to compare myself to anyone or answer to anyone. I feel perfectly perfect in my own skin. I am eternally grateful for this journey, which was ironically created when I was at my lowest and in the midst of chaos. Yet again, someone causing me pain ultimately saved me from myself. And I'm honestly genuinely grateful. But that doesn't mean that I have to or even should stay here.

I took the Facebook app off of my phone. I still occasionally check in, obviously. But I really want to free myself of attachments. I want to be more present for myself and the people I love. I'm excited to be working to bring so many of my family together this summer. I'm going to travel away from the continental States for the first time in my life. I'm really geeked to be getting into a healthy regimen and considering taking up Zumba. My laptop is clearly on its last leg, and the timing could definitely be better, as I have a big trip, followed by a move to a new apartment in a few months. But I have so much to look forward to. New laptop, new places to visit, new exercise regimen, new home. A whole new world and a new me to explore.

And I can explore and express that anywhere. Or maybe not? And if I do, does it have to be here? I don't think so either.

Replacements

When I was a teenager, I had the strange talent of being able to locate 4-leaf clovers. I remember sitting on the ground during soccer practice, pulling up a half a dozen lucky clovers at a time. While they were rare to everyone else, I'd casually give them away to the people around me, quite sure that I could always find another one, if needed. It was often thought that I must be a pretty lucky child, due to my ability to find so many of them. 

Even just a few weeks ago, I was out with a girlfriend, when she'd just bought some cute stud earrings. As we walked back toward the car, she suddenly realized that the stud she'd tried to put in was missing. On the gravel, the earring was practically a lost cause. Even bringing in a 3rd set of eyes to look for it, we started to accept that she may just be down an earring. But I kept looking. At some point, I looked down and saw it! I picked up the small earring, triumphantly. I guess through it all, my luck (and good eyes) continued to work in my favor.

I made no secret that Ali was my entire world. Even just an hour ago, I continue to find so many pics from times we were hanging out together. He wasn't just my cousin or my friend. He was like my big brother. Before he died, I'd met my second cousin Doc, who lives about 30 minutes away. As I grieve my beautiful cousin, Ali, and discuss him at length, Doc has emerged as an important family figure in my life. I've often told Doc that I wish he'd met Ali. They had so much in common. They are even the same height and complexion. I could see them being drinking partners and taking turns on the grill on hot summer days. *sigh*

While I know there will never be a replacement in my life for Ali, I feel that somehow the Universe saw that I continued to need protection and guidance in the form of a cousin/friend/brother. And I feel like the Universe placed Doc in my life around the same time that Ali transitioned, so that I could still be protected and loved on in his absence. Doc and I have grown together a lot in the last few months and I hope he knows how much I love our relationship.

I've heard it said that when God closes one window, She opens another. I completely think that adage has applied to other parts of my life as well. I have continued to be stalked, bullied, and harassed by my son's father. I'll be honest and say that I'm exhausted from his shit. I honestly thought that in having another child, he'd grow up and move on to be someone else's problem. But that doesn't appear to be the case. I can't begin to get into the mind of a man who I haven't graced with this fantastic coochie in over 10 years. Yet here we are.

But the amazing thing is that literally every time he pulls some bullshit, in the end, it ends up working out in my favor. My child and I have an amazing relationship, because he's gotten to see me under fire. Leaving Atlanta and moving back was an unintended blessing because I came back to great career opportunities, and one day I'll finally be able to make the decent living that I want.

So essentially, every time he does something stupid, like dragging me to court, or even trying to turn my child against me, it never works. It's almost like the worse he does, the more the Universe sets up to replace it with an extra blessing. I know that he's about to drag me back to court. I don't care. I've got my blessings. My son is healthy and blossoming. My health is good. My spirit is amazing. My friends and family are all doing well. So I'm ready and completely expecting whatever bullshit my ex comes with next. It's all good.

                                        

There are dozens of plucked 4-leaf clovers to remind me that I got this and I look forward to whatever blessing is on the other side.

Sandwiches

I was talking to a friend of mine about his experience at Chickfila today. My friend complained that Chickfila was out of lemonade and he wasn't happy. I was kind of perplexed about them being out, mainly because I know their lemonade is made by hand. And all it requires is fresh lemons, water, and sugar, things easily obtained at any grocery store. I only know this because I had a friend who worked at Chickfila when we were in high school and he told me how he was responsible for squeezing the lemons for the lemonade, even though on one particular day, he suffered from some papercuts, resulting in an excruciating shift. The ew factor is only now kicking in, since I am aware now of how that could lead to tainted lemonade and lead to sickness, but that's a different story entirely.

Thinking back on his time a Chickfila took me back to our many hours-long conversations in high school. Looking back, he was always the man in his household, despite now knowing that he was just a baby. I recall how he'd always had jobs and contributed, the oldest boy in home where his father was absent and his mother struggled to care for him and his younger siblings. As I thought about that today, I realized that Pumpkin is now the same age that my friend was then. It's crazy to imagine that my baby is now at an age where he really could be the man of the house, if needed. He's genuinely that thoughtful and kind that if I were not able to care for us, I know that he'd take on the role, and wouldn't complain once.

Today was the first day of spring break, thank God. I'm exhausted from getting my child to and from school. I worked over the weekend. I woke up this morning and watched the last two episodes of Swarm. I'd heard so much about the show, but only once Pumpkin started watching it did I really become curious. He finished the last episode today, perhaps an hour before I did. As the final credits rolled for me, Pumpkin and I dissected the ending. He sat on the floor of my bedroom, while we looked online to find out what the hell we'd just looked at. Pumpkin read aloud what he'd just learned, and we bonded over our fan theories of the show. He talked about his appreciation for Donald Glover, which is what drew him to watch the show to begin with. In those moments, I really realized how much my child is becoming his own person. How thoughtful he is and funny. 

I left out for an appointment early in the afternoon and returned home to rest. My alarm went off and I was exhausted. I just wanted to sleep. I spend so many days being tired, in constant need of an impromptu nap. My alarm went off, alerting me that the time for my shift was near. I stirred, groggy. I didn't want to get up. I was tired. Mentally drained. Just once, I thought, I'd like for my time to be my own.

Pumpkin was nearby, in his bedroom. He heard me stirring. He heard me vent about how I'm so damned tired and how I just want one day to do absolutely nothing. I'm doing so many things right now, I feel like my brain is always on, and I just want a day where I don't have to clean up, I don't have to tend to the family reunion, I don't have to work. I just want to be! Pumpkin reminded me that we have a beach vacation coming up soon. I told him that just means that I have some driving to do soon. I'm tired. He again chimed in, hoping to make me feel better. I finally said to him "I know you mean well sweetie, and I appreciate it, but I really just need some rest right now." He walked away. 

I know that he feels guilty, as a large part of my tiredness stems from my putting his education first. But I appreciate his efforts to cheer me up. I was reminded again of what a kind young man I'm raising and I'm pleased.

The ultimate sign of the young man I'm raising happened to come from a family member on Saturday. I was hanging out with Ali's wife when our other cousin, who works at a school, called in. The cousin was on speaker phone and told us a story about a 14-year-old girl who engaged in oral sex with a boy her age at school and later on said that she felt raped by the incident afterwards. The cousin said that she wanted to let us mothers of teenage boys know what could happen if they aren't careful with the young ladies that are on the prowl.

On the way home, I told Pumpkin that we had something we needed to discuss. I shared with him the story that was shared with me and told him how the boy may now be looking at actual rape charges, even though their contact was consensual. As I struggled to explain to him a good analogy, I finally said to him "have you ever eaten something like a sandwich, and it was good at the time, but then later your stomach starts to hurt, and then you later on regret eating that sandwich?" I asked him. "I feel like that all the time," my young prince responded. "Well, sex can be kinda like that," I started.

I informed my son that being good-looking, tall, and likely to make a decent living at some point in the future means that the young ladies will be drawn to him. I explained to my son that explicit pictures of young ladies his age constitute child porn and that if anyone sends him a lewd pic, he is to delete it immediately, with instructions not to look at any dirty pics of young classmates that people may have on their own phones. 

And then I explained that at his age, people aren't always aware of what they want or if they'll change their minds. And how sometimes, people can later regret their decisions, leading to problems for the other party. I even explained to my son how that's how Kobe Bryant got caught up, and even once he was dead, people vilified him for a mutually consensual encounter, in which the woman changed her mind and later brought charges.

I went down a list of statements a woman could make that indicate that she may not want to have sex. I said "I'm not sure, I don't know, I'm thinking abut it, Maybe, I'm scared..." among the many things which don't quiet constitute a "YES" in a sexual encounter. I told Pumpkin that anything other than yes is no. And just to be sure that he heard me, I asked him to repeat back to me what I'd said. "Anything other than yes means no," he repeated back to me. It's interesting, because his voice has gotten deeper, but somehow I still heard it in his younger voice.

The last few days have really hit home for me the young man that I am raising. He's kind, considerate, thoughtful, and full of grace and gratitude. He thanks me for my sacrifices. He's able to look at morally bankrupt behavior of others and call it out (at least to me, he's still quite shy about approaching others). We laugh at shared inside jokes and discuss movies, tv, and music like we're chatting with old friends. I stopped in to get coffee recently, and he decided to get ice cream nearby as we chatted and hung out.  I am raising an absolute rock star, and I couldn't be more proud. He's learning. 

Divine Timing

It isn't a secret that working in mental health can be a challenge. For every client that tells you that you changed their lives, there are clients and coworkers that are bent on making your life hell. Particularly while working with male clients, it isn't unheard of for them to try us. It really just comes with the territory. 

I'm really fortunate that my supervisor has been good about empowering me to defend myself and redirect clients who get out of line. I've even taken to quoting one of my favorite shows whenever my coworkers are dealing with crap at work:

But one day, I had a client that challenged me. I couldn't to it. I was off the next day, and I was good about putting it out of mind. I was. But when I returned to work, I couldn't do it. I had to reach out to a crisis line to talk about what I was experiencing. I hated to do it. I felt so weak and defeated. That's not like me. That's not who I am today. I put it out of my mind largely, just because the thought of it all made me so uncomfortable.

Meanwhile, life has moved alone, as its wont to do. Working on my books, planning family reunion, raising my amazing child, planning my vacation this summer- I'd say I'm doing pretty well. Of course there's always things I'm balancing lightly. Issues with my parents. My dating life that is nothing short of non-existent, because I just can't deal. It's always there. I just tuck it neatly in a nice little bow, in the back of my mind.

On most days, I drop my child off at school and plan to stay there in the area, before I drive him home. This morning was pretty rough, so I opted to drop him off and return home to grab a nap. One hour into a planned 2/3 hour nap, I got a call. The counselor that I'd met with from my work issue wanted to know if I wanted to come in today or tomorrow to further talk about my work issues. I was initially going to select tomorrow, but after hanging up, I realized that I already have an appointment at that time. So I guess, today it is.

I walked in, unsure of what to find. She was a Black woman, a complete godsend. Plus she has a PhD in psychotherapy. I got teared up as I discussed what my issue was. She asked me if I'd been sexually assaulted before. I assured her I had not. Then she asked me about my father: **sigh** I admitted that he's a narcissistic pain in the ass, much like my son's father and most men I've encountered. I admitted that while I understand that not all men are complete trash, enough of them are for me to recognize that they are largely predatory and only concerned about getting their needs met.

I admitted that I dislike most men and don't trust them as far as I can throw them as I've immersed myself deeply into feminist thought. The therapist listened intently as I talked about work and several experiences I've had for the last few years. Then she asked me about my siblings. More tears. 

I expected absolutely none of this. I created my todo list for the day, and not a single thing on the list required me to talk about the deepest parts of my life. I let the therapist know that much of what I told her were things that I've buried deep and wrapped up neatly in a bow. She reminded me that holding on deeply to everything would only eventually lead to it slipping out anyway. And naturally, she was right.

Coincidentally, I'd been looking for a therapist for some time now. If it wasn't the finances, it was some other blockage that kept it from happening. It was in my mind, but never happened. On the radio, "Always on Time" by Ja Rule had been playing so much. And that reminds me of how this therapist landed in my lap. She wasn't there when I called- but damned if she wasn't on time.

And to add icing to the cake, as I walked into a gas station today, a guy held the door open for me. He complimented me on my hair. I complimented him on his smile. He said he liked mine as well. As I gassed up and expected him to just walk away, he stopped his car and walked up and asked me for my phone number. He wasn't creepy or weird. He didn't leer at me.

Lord knows I'm not marrying this guy in my head. Not sure I'll ever even see him again. But it feels nice to be reminded that there are safe spaces, in my head, and in the world. It was all on time. All of it.

Full Circle

Can't front, this morning was a doozy. I was in my head about so many things. And on the average day, I can process my bubble and blow it away, while I focus on making the present great. But today was far more of a challenge. I try not to always bring Craig into the mix to process my stuff. Fact is that Craig has his own stuff going on (as we all do) and I'm working on being more conscious of when others don't have emotional bandwidth for me. Coincidentally, I realized that I have talked about Craig bits and pieces here over the years, but yeah, I guess he's an official fixture here (for now).

Nevertheless, like clockwork, Craig called me to check in. I told him about a few things I struggled with today. Right before he had to go into a session, he reminded me of how far I've come, and he reminded me that if I hadn't experienced my challenges in the past, I wouldn't have grown into who I am. Craig also reminded me that I'm human and I need to cut myself some slack. He was right. 

By the time I got home, I was beat. There was a journal I'd seen at a coffeehouse a few weeks ago, and it was kinda pricey, at $50. Right now, all of my spare cash is caught up in savings, so by the time I went back to get it, it was gone. I was devastated, but I didn't remember enough detail about the journal to order it. The heavens must have heard by call, because 2 days ago, I was on Facebook, when I saw an ad for the journal. I immediately ordered it. My copy came today, along with my copy of my homegirl's book that was released today. 

I was pretty emotionally beat, but her book release was today and I really wanted to be present for it, so I took a 20 minute nap, and decided to go show some love. I saw her for the first time since we saw one another in Oakland some years ago and we hugged. She looked amazing. The energy in the room was electric and I loved seeing so much love being bestowed onto a Black woman. 

As she talked about her journey with the book, I started to cry tears of joy for her. I've heard bits and pieces of her story over the years, so to watch her on this stage and literally getting her flowers via a major publication was amazing. I managed to meet two other people who were familiar with her work and I told them about my finished book and even told them about the premise of the one I'm currently working on and they both loved it. I wanted so bad to go home and tear into her book, but honestly, I just got in and I'm beat. I have to wake up and take my son to school tomorrow. I may even hold off on the book, because I'm trying to encourage my coworkers to read it with me. But I'm definitely going to tear into this journal.

Saying all of that to say that what I took from this evening was that Craig was right. I was unhappy for so long. I was unappreciated and I was clinging to trauma and unhealthy people. What I took from today was "sometimes God takes you from where you were, to place you where you're supposed to be." I'm not supposed to be in the midst of chaos and trauma. I'm supposed to be celebrating book signings and be inspired to publish my own books. I'm supposed to be finishing writing book two. I'm supposed to be happy and overjoyed and uplifted and in the room with goddesses and gods. I'm supposed to be working on these journals so I can learn so much more about myself.

I'm supposed to be exactly where I am. And I am grateful.

Learning to Be Okay with Being Okay

So there's a guy. I'll call him Craig. Craig and I have known one another for about 5 years now. We're great friends. He works in mental health too. Craig has been instrumental in supporting me throughout my career, he's a bit of a mentor as well. Craig is a therapist who also specializes in sex, among other things. Craig and I have talked about the many things we have in common and having him as a mentor and friend has been invaluable for me.

Craig also happens to be hot. Craig is sexy as shit. At some point, Craig and I started doing "the dance." It hasn't always been easy. Craig is a great friend of mine and things got rocky in our relationship when we were working together. At some point, I started to recognize that I had issues with codependency, and saw that I'd leaned on Craig way too heavily. I called him to apologize. He apologized for how he handled some things as well. Our friendship then grew drastically after that. We've been great since then.

I didn't cheat on Theo with him. But I'll be honest and say that I made a beeline to make up lost time with Craig 2 days after I told Theo we were done. And Craig reminded me of why I keep coming back to him.

My issue now is that I'm struggling with how well things are going with Craig. Craig has an amazing body (he works out a lot and is currently heavily into boxing) and he's incredibly handsome. One of my least favorite client's caregiver happened to have a crush on him and I got a sick joy knowing that I was doing things to him that she could only dream of. He's also a great friend. One of my favorite things about having friends that work in mental health is that we can have thorough discussions about nearly anything, with no judgment or hang-ups, especially since he specializes in sex. No topics are off the table and I find his openness refreshing after nearly pulling teeth to get men to open up about what's going on in their lives.

Craig is extremely busy. He is building his business, in addition to being a full-time parent. We don't get to spend a lot of time together, but when we do, we make it count. When I tell him that I have a problem with something he does or says, he addresses it and we talk like adults. He knows how to talk to me to encourage me and to get me to take a good look at my own actions.

One day, I asked myself if I wanted to be in a relationship with Craig, and I surprised myself by saying "no." I pondered all sorts of circumstances changing, and I still surprised myself by saying "nah." I happened to be talking to some girlfriends at work and I mentioned Craig and how much I thoroughly enjoy our friendship. My friends encouraged me to try to take things there with him. And again, I surprised myself by saying "nah." I explained to my homegirls that I've made the mistake with my guy friends before by trying to make some men into something they were not ready to be. And I learned to be happy with what is.

So that's me and Craig, I guess. Occasionally, I text Craig in the middle of the night and tell him how much I love our friendship and how weirded out at the fact that I'm not trying to marry him. I'm not even trying to make him my boyfriend, although he's the only person I'm romantically connected with at the time, but that's more of a choice. I want no commitment of any sort from him, outside of our friendship. I'm just over dating. I told myself that I'd do paid dating apps in the future, but truthfully, I don't want to do that anymore. I really don't even want to date. I don't want a boyfriend. I don't want a "get to know you/honeymoon phase." I'm too old for that shit. I'm just over the games and deception that comes with dating these days.

But I'm still struggling with just learning to be okay with having a Craig. Craig isn't a Fred. He's consistent and he's thoughtful. He's kind. He's warm. He's emotionally available. He's sexy af. He's mature. He texts me back! And not even a small part of me wants to be in a relationship with him in any way, and that confuses me. He's gorgeous! He's perfect! He knows that he's too busy for a relationship, and he's certainly not trying to force the issue either. Even if he asked me to do the relationship thing with him, I'd freeze up.

I am really struggling with being okay with being okay with our friendship. In the past, I would have been trying to marry Craig. To make him drop everything and meet me at the courthouse. Truthfully, I don't even know if I ever want to get married. I guess the cognitive dissonance is getting to me. Because, I feel like I'm supposed to be forcing this. I'm supposed to be trying to put a round peg in a square hole, but I'm not. I enjoy our intimate moments and I love his friendship. I don't know what Craig does when I'm not around, and I don't really care. I trust him. I love him. He loves me. And I'm so okay with this.

I just can't figure out why I'm so okay with it. I checked in with him. He admits that he too sometimes struggles with accepting when things are good in his life. I think what makes this easier for me to accept is that mindfulness has been instrumental in helping me to learn to be present with what is. I can't control the future and I can't change the past. All I can do is just live in the moment and learn to be grateful for when things are going well. I'm learning to live a consciously mindful life and I'm so used to being a wound up spaz, that I'm struggling to just be okay with things going well and there being no underlying attempts on my part to move the meter one way or another.

Craig and I fit perfectly into the space that we're in right now. We provide emotional attachment, connection, and support. We know one another on a deeper level. I often poke at him for the amount of time that he'll text or call me when I'm in the process of thinking about him. Neither of us is moving toward more, or wanting, or needing any more. No false promises about getting married at X date under Y circumstances. Not even a bit of consideration about moving in together. And I'm strangely okay with this. Plus I find that dating and relationships really just distract me from my goals of finishing writing and publishing my second book. I don't really want to deal with any distractions and this is more of a support than anything, which is why it works perfectly for me. 

But I feel like I shouldn't be okay with this. I'm supposed to be falling in love with him. But I don't want that for us. I'm really just okay with us being okay. And that's weird to me. It shouldn't be weird tho, right?