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?

On Grieving

I spent last weekend at Tene's home (she is the widow of Ali). Tene needed some time away and asked if I'd stay the night to keep an eye on the kids in her absence. Quite truthfully, I was exhausted from work and driving my son back and forth, and not excited about doing it. But she's my family and anything I can do to help her on her journey of healing, I'll do. That, along with the fact that I'm currently in the process of planning a family reunion with my dad's side of the family and it's making me more conscious of building with my family and building bonds, while exposing my son to his family (my side).

As always, I asked Tene how she's doing. She talked about her journey. One thing that I continue to take from my journey of grief is being able to normalize the many steps and layers of grief. When Pete died, I expected a few days of sadness, and then back to normal. I had no idea that his death would send me on a journey of learning so much about myself and ultimately becoming a better version of myself.

I explained to Tene how my cross-country travels quickly became a large part of my therapeutic process. Most people didn't get that. But that's okay, it wasn't for them to get. I told Tene how when I'd talk to people about my driving between major cities in the desert, I'd often be met with "I could never do that." And what I quickly took from that is that so many people struggle to be alone with and for themselves. That many people would rather work, drink, smoke, and fuck away their problems, rather than look in the mirror.

Coincidentally, I was listening to Michael Jackson's Bad album recently, and the song "Man in the Mirror" came on. I'd heard this song countless times in the past throughout my childhood and further. I like how the song mobilized us. The world. But one day, while in car, the song came on. And I heard it. I mean, I really listened to it. Mike wasn't just talking about us all getting our shit together. Michael Joseph Jackson wanted ME to get my shit together. He wanted me to look in the mirror. He wanted each and every one of us to look at the woman/man in the mirror and asked them to change their ways.

Only now, as a mental health professional, can I recognize how impactful that can be. I happened to stumble upon an article yesterday that addressed how antidepressants are not enough to battle depression alone. It is literally impossible to count how many depressed people I've encountered over the years, both professionally and personally, who struggle with depression and get frustrated with the lack of a magic pill that just makes everyone and everything better. Like big shock, you gotta do the work yourself. Even with a pill, if you don't actively practicing loving and loving on yourself, you'll never work through your depression.

I talk every now and again about when I broke up with my troll of an ex David, how I decided that since his skank of a cum dumpster was going to stalk me, I've give the silly slut something to look at. I bought dresses and outfits and I hit the streets. And I pretended to have a good time, but I surprised myself. Because at some point, I was no longer pretending, I was actually having a good time. I mean, granted, it was still a process, and there was still work on myself to be done. But I was working on getting there.

Getting off track here, but my point is that the grief that I experienced after Pete died held a major mirror up to me. I had a lot of shit to take ownership for my life. And it was terrifying. But it was freeing. That experience humbled me. Grief really is the great equalizer. And the best way to tackle it is to be honest with yourself and others.

During the height of my grief, I felt raw. I felt figuratively naked. I had nothing to give. Every bit of energy I had went into bare surviving. All I had the emotional energy to give at the moment was school and later work. But the life and ability to thrive that I enjoy now did not exist. I only got to this point because I made it a priority to work through my grief. And working through it looked different on different days. Some days, I took road trips, and drove and cried until my sight was blurry. Other times I visited museums and felt Pete's spirit with me as I felt him hugging me as I took in the wholeness of what I was experiencing.

Grieving Ali was different though. I remembered how I felt. I literally hurt on a cellular level. I remember feeling like literally every cell in my body hurt. Every hair follicle on my body hurt. But it wasn't a physical pain. But it hurt. It hurt so bad. I recall how I pulled up a chair to the windows in his home and stared out. The whole afternoon, I looked outside and tried to make sense of what was happening. My cousin was gone. My working through Pete's loss prepared me somewhat for Ali's death. I was aware to give myself grace. I refused to hide my emotions to make others feel warm and fuzzy. If I was sad, I cried. And when I needed to drive cross country, dammit, that's what I did. Some people tried to make me feel guilty for grieving on my own terms. And I didn't give a shit.

I'll have to tell Tene one day how proud I am of her. She's not just giving herself busy work. She's not smoking or fucking through her grief. She's processing and taking it day by day. She's not afraid to talk about her husband/my cousin. She owns her feelings and her emotions. She's not afraid to be vulnerable.

And that's how you work through grief. Ask me how I know.

Nurse or a Purse

Seasons in life are pretty interesting to me. It's so cool to enter new phases and be able to marinate on what you've learned and how it impacts where you are now, where you intend to go, and how you plan to get there. This new year has been particularly interesting to me, and I know that my struggles last year worked hard to prepare me for the space I'm in now. One of my favorite parts of this season has been connecting that much harder with my family.

Through the wonders of social media, I have connected with my 2nd cousin, Tiffany. Tip happens to look a lot like me and over the last few years that I've gotten to know her, we've gotten really close and I'm thankful for that. Last weekend, Tiffany, our other cousin, Doc, and I all got together and hung out in North Carolina where my father's family is from. We also went to my mother's birthday dinner.

I'm enjoying this space of building with my family and rebuilding my relationship with my mother. While visiting Tip, we stayed in her beautiful home. I love that Tip and I have so many similarities. Tip is also single so we get to discuss a lot about how our dating lives are going. I've been in quite a contemplative space regarding dating lately (as if I don't think about it often). I continue to focus on marinating on my own greatness and remembering that I'd rather be alone than to be miserable and/or used and exploited in a relationship.

I believe that part of my reasoning for focusing so hard on what I do want this time around, is because I spent so much time settling for bad relationships, with the hopes a man would change, that I'm vigilant this time around about not settling. I refuse to be in a relationship, just for the sake of being in one. I am determined to be loved on my own terms, by the right man. Or be loved on my own terms by me. There is no middle ground this time around.

I recall saying in an online forum recently how dating in my 40s, I continue to come across men that refuse to plan for the future, and I can practically smell their desperation in 10+ years when they get old and alone, and suddenly find the value in settling down. Or they are shocked to find that the 20-somethings that they hope to settle down with are (big shocker) going after men their own age, instead of dusty guys in their 50s. I was surprised when a woman wrote "A nurse or a purse, that's why I'm still single." I thought to myself how interesting that is.

A few weeks later, I finally caught up to my best friend, after weeks of missing one another's phone calls. I also mentioned to he how I fear that these same guys who can't get their head out of their asses and plan adequately for the future will suddenly be knocking down my door in a few years. My bestie surprised me by saying "a nurse with a purse."

I was pretty shocked at that point. I had no clue that this was actually a "thing." I knew what my dating experiences had been, but I had no clue that this term was actually a coined term regarding men who long to get married in their 50s+, after doing the bachelor thing for decades. I'll also add in that working for a Crisis Line, I talk to desperately lonely men nearly every day. I hear men crying in my ear about missing their deceased wives, or missing their ex-wives who divorced them, and their children who barely take a moment out to visit them, even on holidays. I look at these ridiculous men in my dating pool, and I see their futures. And it ain't pretty.

While chatting with my best friend, I also remembered about the last time I visited with Fred in Cali. I forgot how it came up, but I mentioned in passing to him that I no longer planned to try to marry him. I thought he'd be relieved that I'd finally let the topic go. Instead, he appeared surprised. I explained to him that there was nothing nefarious behind it, I just realized that I make way more money than him and his communication skills are shit, and that frankly, I'd be more of a come up for him in old age, than he'd be for me and that I'd be stupid to cling to him needlessly. He accepted it. But I could see that I'd caught him off guard.

Only later did I catch what was really going on there. He thought he had time. He thought that I'd always be in his back pocket, in case things didn't work out in other areas of his life. He expected me to proudly stand back and be his Plan B in the end. And he was shocked to hear that I decided on my own that I no longer desired to have him as my Plan B. I think he forgot that desirability had to flow both ways, that not only does he have to want me, that I have to want him back. And although I love Fred and I know I always will, the math ain't mathin'. 

I talked to another cousin recently and she asked how I'm holding up financially. I explained to her that I'm check to check because all of my extra money goes into paying down bills, including my car and credit cards. Ultimately, in the next year, I want my bills to be paid off and the only thing I'm focusing on is still paying down my car, in addition to building my credit. And once I move back to California, I plan to continue to stack my coins, with my sole focus being retirement. Pretty good plan, if I do say so myself. This year will be the last year of epic birthday trips. I'll still travel, but not such expansive travels, which require so much money. After this summer, the penny pinching starts, as I get ready to stack my money and focus on retiring comfortably.

Being the curious soul that I am, I even went so far as to Google "nurse or a purse." I was stunned to see several articles, warning retirement-aged women not to get entangled with older men who are now looking for a woman to care for them or help them to pay bills. So many women are heading into retirement, or are recently widowed and seeing what the dating game is like. One thing I happen to hear among older women who are newly single (via widowhood or divorce) is how after being the backbone of their past years-long relationships, they have no desire to get married and carry yet another human being's life. And on the opposite side of the same coin, so many older men are desperate for a woman to care for them after divorces or widowhood.

One of my favorite things about being solo is that I can make all of my own decisions. I can travel when and how I want to. I can save my money as much as I want, and not have to worry about a man who has his hand out because he mismanaged his own funds. I don't have to worry about a man who is financially floating his whole side of the family secretly, while I struggle to save money for the future. I see the light at the end of the tunnel and I'm proud of myself for doing everything possible to prepare to retire comfortably.

And with all of these plans and sacrifices, why the hell would I take on the problems of a man who couldn't be bothered to get his shit together until he saw the writing on the wall? Why would I suddenly want a man who's junk isn't working and who is sick and hopes that I'll be there to wipe his brow and drive him to the doctor and cook for him and help him to manage all of his medical appointments? Why should I lower my standards and feel sorry for a man who thought he'd just screw around indefinitely, and suddenly get access to the retirement that I have rightfully worked so hard for? 

Another concern of mine is getting married to some dude who doesn't have two nickels to rub together, him running my pockets, ruining the relationship and then later trying to get part of my pension during divorce proceedings.

I am Malika. I am a woman. But I am not a nurse nor a purse. Get somebody else to do it.