Failure to Assess and Launch

I'm really excited about a few things I have planned. It's like all of those years of struggling are finally coming together to make sense. If  you take a look at my life, divine timing is definitely real. When I speak to people at work and in my personal life, I have no issue holding up myself as an example of what can happen when you hold your head and work through those challenges.

My modus operandi is to always have several backup plans and always expect the unexpected. Those two things have helped me land on my feet time and time again, because I'm not often caught off guard. I've had people accuse that mindset of me being "negative" but the fact is (knock on wood) my bills are paid on time, even when circumstances are shaky.

I talked a while back about my therapist labeling me a track star and how I had to sit in that for a while, trying to figure out my life. I did more processing than a little around the label of being a runner. I wanted to asses it inside and out. Is it really me? And if so, what can I do about it?

I even checked in with some of my good friends, to get their opinions on it. At one point, I reached out to my homeboy Tony. Tony is kind of cute and we've always had a flirtatious relationship. I called him the other night, again wracking my brain with news of my new label. Tony plainly said to me "if you don't think you're a runner, what's the issue?" 

I explained to him that therapy is about me learning myself. I mean, ignoring my flaws doesn't make them go way. Tony said that if I don't agree with the term, then it simply doesn't apply. I said to him that even though I may not like what someone says, that doesn't make it untrue. And that we become better versions of ourselves by being honest with ourselves and assessing honest criticism.

I could almost feel Tony checking out. That's when I told him that we should at least hear what people with good intentions have to say about us. I mean, naturally I don't listen to every critical word that some idiot says about me. But if someone who cares, or better yet, the psychologist that I pay out of pocket, gives an honest assessment of my character, it bears being examined.

But something about the way he just kinda, I dunno, checked out at the thought of examining honest criticism. I wasn't just turned off, I was honestly a bit disgusted. Like how can you, as a grown ass man in your 40s, be so opposed to acknowledging anything wrong with yourself? To the point where you check out when someone is processing their own criticism?

When I recognized that Tony's response was just to bury his head, I was so... UGH. I mean, I was legitimately a repulsed. And I used to think that Tony was so cute. But when that happened, I looked at my life and I looked at Tony's life. I met him when I was in undergrad at Kennesaw in my 20s. Since then I've finished undergrad, did some living, and went to grad school. Meanwhile, I've worked in mental health for 15 years. I have a career. I've had several relationships, some obviously better than others. My resume gets me pretty much any job I have my eyes on. I have a job with a well-respected organization. I have a pension. I have a short-term plan and a long-term plan. And Tony has evolved by... well, by not much.

All because of his refusal to accept and access honest feedback and become a better version of himself. I don't understand how someone's ego can be so fragile that they'd rather stay complacent in life than to grow and build.

I guess that's why I'm flourishing, and he's, well, not.

Track Star

I had a bit of an epiphany about Fred the other day. After nearly 2 decades of back and forth with him, I'd feel some kind of way if I met a man I was interested in and he had a similar relationship with another woman. I mean, how does someone new to the fold compare to that? It made me look kinda hard at my own dating situations, ya know?

This afternoon, I met with my therapist. Dr. T is amazing. Early in our meeting, somehow we began talking about my father and I began listing off the many reasons I've chosen to cut him out of my life. I saw Dr. T literally double take as I told story after story about the many things he has done to betray my trust. Doc even went far enough to call him a sadist, which I can definitely agree with.

During our meeting, I told Dr. T that I wanted to change course slightly and talk about something else. She gladly accepted. I then told her about my revelation- that my history with Fred would be difficult for an outsider. My dear doctor listened intently as I'd shared how I felt that our literal cross-country love affair is deeper than I may have realized. I mean, I can be honest and share that there are men who I've prioritized over Fred and if the right man came into my life, I'd have no problem doing so again.

When Dr. T asked why we've never been a couple, I admitted that our differences are pretty big and some of the things I think he'd want, I don't fit into. I mean, I'm open to it, I guess. But I'm not running into that fire either. I also shared that if I met that man for the first time tomorrrow, even though I'd be physically attracted to him, I highly doubt we'd get much past a hello. We're just so different now, I don't think we'd gel as new friends.

But maybe there's really more to us than I've accepted. Dr. T wondered why I'd been so deep in my feelings over this. That's when I shared the world's worst-kept secret with her- I'm terrified of commitment. I've done it before. Most of my boyfriends, I never cheated on, not even with Fred. Except for one, my son's father and I deserved every orgasm that Fred gave me during that time. Even though some of the others definitely deserved to be cheated on, and I had many opportunities to do so. Still, the thought of being in a relationship scares the bejeezus of me. 

Dr. T wondered why Fred and I never got together. I confessed to her that I'm not sure that we'd even make a good couple. I openly asked her why we can't be like an Oprah and Stedman, ya know? Why define things? Dr. T then reminded me that Oprah and Stedman at least live together. Oof.

That's when she hit me with it. Dr. T looked up and proclaimed to me "you're a runner." 

Me? Huh?! A runner?! That's when I was reminded of my past coworker. I shared with her my absolute terror of the idea of entering a previous relationship. My coworker looked at me and said "Malika, you are a runner." What?! Me?! How?! Who?! My coworker then said "bitch, you are a track star!" One of my favorite things about working in mental health is that you're surrounded by therapists who are happy to give you insight on things you previously overlooked.

So Dr. T is literally the 3rd person to have called me a runner. I have no clue why this is hitting so hard. I sat tensely in her office, fidgeting and trying to sit in these feelings. I admitted that the idea of calling myself a runner kinda stung. Dr. T then asked me what I'm running from. I fidgeted even harder. I'm traditionally pretty okay with my shit. All of my emotions. But sitting in her office, in that chair, ironically made me want to bolt out of there.

It was the end of our session, so we had no chance to go down the rabbit hole of why. I normally hate when our sessions end, but I was definitely okay with it today. Perhaps I am a runner. I dunno. Me though? The woman who embraces emotions and wants to talk and hug everything out? Am I really running from something? I don't know.

I gotta go.

The Crazies

Today was a perfect coffeehouse day. I'm thankful that my little genius of a son helped me to find a new laptop. With the rain drizzling outside and recent goings on, this is the perfect moment to sit down and sort out my thoughts, on top of updating my monthly budget.

Anyway, a while back, I saw a meme where a person thanked the people in their life who'd been kind enough to listen to them incessantly talk about whatever mess they were involved in, until they were through it. It immediately took me back to two of my good friends. Both, Hashim and Alto, have been an absolute godsend over the years, supporting me while dealing with all of the shit my ex heaped onto me. I made it a point to verbally let both of them know how much I appreciated it, because I know they were both beyond sick of me talking about it.

Which brings me to where I am now. I have a friend I'll call Angela. She and I go way back. She's also been a support while I was dealing with many issues, including legal stuff resulting from my ex and my family. Angela happens to work for local law enforcement. Ya know that friend that can find nearly anything or anyone online? That friend is typically me. But Angela is able to give me a run for my money, even without having her police connections. She's an absolute beast at pulling up info.

About a year ago, Angela started confessing that things weren't going very well with her husband. And working in mental health, it's kinda natural that I'd become her therapist/support through all of this. And I'll admit that it was exhausting to listen to. I'll own that a large part of what helped me to grant her patience was my recognition of what an absolute mess I've been in my past relationships and knowing that when I needed an ear, so many friends were there for me.

When Angela would call or text me, outraged at whatever new shit her husband had recently done, I'd remind her that he's literally doing what he's always done and you can't be surprised when you don't have expectations. She'd finally had enough and decided that once they reached a particular milestone in their relationship, she'd pull the plug. She'd confessed to me that it was pretty difficult to play nice, but she knew it was in her best interest to do so.

A few months back, Angela also presented with evidence that her husband was cheating on her. Yikes. And on top of that information, the side chick had also started following her online. Now, I'm one to be honest with my shit. I've done my dirt. But these new side chicks are a whole different level of bold. Following the wife online?! My last dalliance, with a man who was recently separated, I literally blocked that woman, in case my name ever came up (thankfully, it never did) and I have since sworn off married men, but that's for a different post. The less she knew about me, the better. I've even mentioned to other men how with that particular guy, I knew my place. I had no intentions to meet or argue with his wife. I didn't want to replace her or meet their kids. I understood that my friendship with him was what it was, and I had no desire for anything extra. Not surprisingly, many of those men proposed to me that I take on the role of side chick to them, and I declined. It ain't worth the headache. But my point is that I knew my place, and that particular guy appreciated it. He and I stayed good friends for years, he ended up being a bit of a mentor for me, and he helped me a ton in my career. And even though we ended things, I know I could call him tomorrow if I needed to. Since then, I've opted to stop talking about that part of my life with my married guy friends, because I have no desire to play that role again.

Once Angela realized that she had a new fan, she made it a point to dedicate her online presence to pictures of her and her philandering husband, much to the chagrin of his side bae. Meanwhile, I'd been tasked with listening to and supporting my dear friend. It made me that much more grateful of my current peace and my intentional decisions to only entertain men who had some damned sense. All I could think to myself is that I'm in my 40s, I can't imagine still dealing some man who is hell bent on pain and destruction. That's also another reason that I don't want more children. I don't ever want to be in that frame of mind over a man ever again in my life.

A few days back, Angela contacted me and stated that she had information that her husband had been spending money on the side chick. She was fuming. I tried my best to remind her that a fuccboi is going to do fuccboi stuff, and to stay focused on her fast-approaching date to file for divorce. But obviously, one to press her luck, the side chick then decided to follow Angela on another site. Angela, feeling froggy, decided to inbox the woman to ask if she had any information to share with her.

Woo chile, if this didn't take me back to my 20s. I can now attest that nothing good can come from this. I urged Angela to block her. She knows what it is, she's planning to divorce dude anyway. Angela, practically a detective, knew exactly what was going on. She had all of the evidence in the world.

I got a call from Angela last night, while I was at work. I sent it to voicemail, unable to speak. She called me back a few minutes later, and I texted her that I'd call her on break, which ended up going an hour later than I'd anticipated. When I had a moment, I finally reached back out. "I needed you," she said. "What's up?" I offered. "I needed you" she said again. That's when she dropped the bomb.

"I went to her house, and he was there." Oh shit. She explained that she pulled up and saw his car. She called him and demanded he come out. She then called the woman and told her to send her husband out. He opted to stay where he was, which was likely the safest for everyone involved.

As much as I'd danced around it before, I told Angela point blank that she's going to mess around and lose her job, or possibly more- her freedom, if she kept this up. I have no issue with holding myself up as an example of what not to do. I reminded Angela of my jail stint and I reminded her that her job in law enforcement could be threatened if she was found out to be in the streets like this. On top of it all, Angela recently got promoted to the much-needed job that will allow her to pay bills comfortably once she and her husband split. She mentally and financially cannot afford to lose this job that she just worked so hard for.

And here she is, in the streets, about to lose it all for a man who clearly is not worth it. Angela stated that she'd just needed confirmation and a confession. "Why?" I asked her. Again, she's a beast with the info. She knows. She knew. She had pictures, conversations, phone calls, addresses, dates, and text messages. And she pressed her luck. But I can't judge her. I get it. Lord knows, I get it. I been there. It ain't a good place to be in. It got the best of her. Love and rage will do it. 

Angela came down with the crazies.