You Get What You Get, And You're Gonna Like It Too!!

I'm 2 days out from Thanksgiving and I can't front, I have so much to be thankful for. Not just the house, but how much my life and relationships have flourished. I linked back up with my teenage bestie, and amazingly, we both completed our undergrad degrees and even got our master's degrees in social work, so we often talk shop and deeply understand one another. My child is growing so much mentally and emotionally, and I could not be more proud of him. I've gotten a little out of shape (because the second half of the year was kind of a doozy), but I just bought new running shoes and started jogging again. I just got back from a quick trip up north, where I got to spend time with my family and my bestie, Daisy. Overall, I definitely cannot complain.

Coincidentally, I had a moment recently that really let me know how far I'd come. I'd bragged a few years ago about how amazing the skin on my face is, with very minimal washing. Skin was bright, radiant even. And then one day, it popped up and got comfortable and I've had to make peace with this lil bastard since! This stupid psoriasis saw me thinking too heavily of myself and decided to disrupt alla dat! Seriously, it could have landed on my foot, like my son. Or my neck, arms or back. NOPE! This psoriasis felt me getting to be too comfortable with my looks and decided to do something about it smh. Been roughly 2 years now, so nothing I can do but treat it as much as I can and go about my day. The fact is that if someone like Kim Kardashian has psoriasis and can't do much about it, with all of the money she has, ain't a damned thing I can do but accept it.

But then recently, something else happened. My beloved nose ring, which I'd had for years, started to puff up. Well, not the ring, obviously, but the skin around it, on my nose. Now, I wasn't a stranger to this. A few years ago, when I still had my stud, my skin would occasionally puff up, and a dab of Neosporin a few times a day, managed to take care of that. However, for some reason, it wasn't helping much this time. The fact that I tend to pick at the skin on my face didn't help much either. I'd tried many things, and the puffiness would go down, but then puff right back up. The pierced skin seemed to be getting bigger and puffier, even pussy. I'd tried tea tree oil and witch hazel, on top of many other things, but the bump just wouldn't leave. 

I read about how to heal bumps that weren't going away, and I saw a recommendation to try some antibiotics, so I decided to go visit a doc and get some meds. The doctor came to me and quickly announced that antibiotics would not work, simply because I had a keloid. I froze. "I'm sorry, a what now?!" I'll admit that I let my previous bias get to me. I envisioned a massive, intrusive blob on my face, that would be large and hideous for eternity. How the eff could I, of all people, get a keloid?! I'd had my piercing for years, with no issue! How is this possible?!

I looked online at how to heal piercing keloids. It said the one thing I'd never really considered- removal of the piercing. I'd gotten my hoop in Alaska, in March earlier this year, replacing the stud that called my nose home for years. I realized that I didn't have much choice. There was no promise that the keloid would go away either way, but at the moment, it needed to go and I had to do whatever I could. I sat in my car at a nearby QuikTrip and googled how to take it out. With some work, I finally got it out. But I still had this large, ugly ass bump on my nose.

And while battling my new enemy, called Keloid, I had another attack on my face. A goddamn fever blister popped up on my lip at the same damned time. What pissed me off the most about the fever blister was that I didn't even get these damned things being nasty. Nope. I had a previous client who showed up at group one day with one. This particular client quickly became famous for mindlessly eating and drinking things she was not supposed to. One day, on the way into work, I'd stopped by Starbucks and mindlessly left my cup unattended for a few minutes. I came back, saw my cup, and moved it to my office. And a few days later, it appeared.

I was pissed. I was outraged! All the wild shit I did in my 20s and 30s, I avoided something like this! And all it took was a wandering client and unattended coffee to make this happen. The first, last, and only time it happened before recently was about 6 years ago. And now, here I am with effing psoriasis, a keloid, and a damned fever blister at the same time. I hated it. It took so long to embrace how I look, and all of a sudden, all this shit was attacking my face all at once!

I'd wondered if I was having issues with my immune system. It just seemed so odd. I'd looked online about weakened immune systems, and everything I read kept starting off with stress as a cause. I couldn't relate. I wasn't stressed at all! I finally broke down and called a local nurse line. I explained my symptoms and she said something similar- "are you stressed?" I told her of course not. I just hung up, annoyed.

Honestly tho, I had to really think about the last month. Rather than just hiring a mover or renting a van, I opted to move in short trips, because it worked well before. Not this time. I should have taken time off work, but I did not. I continued to work both jobs, while making several trips, to move both delicates and large furniture. And on top of that, my mom was coming to my house to see it, so I was taking time between calls to finish painting my bathroom. I hated that I had so much to do, with so little time to do it. And I my hair may not have been falling out, but I had to accept that perhaps I really was a bit more stressed out than I'd given myself credit for. Perhaps it's that I'm normally so chill, that this slight uptick in activity really was messing with me?

I stepped back into my freshly painted bathroom, looked at myself in that mirror, with psoriasis, fever blister, and a keloid, and I looked at the Frankenstein staring back, and said to her "you still that bish!" And you know what?! I meant it!! I didn't see a monster in the mirror, I saw an amazing, intelligent, accomplished woman, who had some spots on her face. I marveled at realizing that a few years ago, I would have imploded at this. Not this time, nope. 

I said to myself that the world is gonna get whatever version of the me that I have to give it and ain't a damned thing they can do about it. This is my favorite part of being good and grown. I don't let the superficial stuff define me. I got my peace. I'm surrounded by amazing people, I have plans for the future and I love myself like never before. 

The keloid had since dramatically declined and the fever blister has healed, the psoriasis is definitely hanging on tho. And I look back at that lesson that The Universe brought to me, to show me how far I've come. And I'll take it all!!

Likeable, But Unliked?

I've kinda scaled back my social media presence lately. The older I get, the more I value my peace, and too much online energy really messes up my groove. While once a person who posted on Facebook daily, I now opt to only check once or twice a week. I follow several groups that keep me in the loop. I also intentionally don't watch the news. Anything I need to know, someone will inform me. It works so far, so why fix it, ya know?

Anyway, last night, I decided on a quick check in. I landed on a post from a woman who described how she'd planned a birthday cruise for herself, and footed the bill, including the bill for her boyfriend to join her. She went on to talk about how her boyfriend was a complete wet blanket the whole time. She then said that next time, she'd simply leave the dude home.

I looked at the comments, and at over 1.1k of them, they all said the same thing. He doesn't like you, toss him back!

I was nearly nauseous reading those statements. He doesn't like you. It hit home. I felt the light bulb go off. I hated how familiar it all was. He didn't like her. Just like so many men didn't really like ME. I went back through my recent memory and I finally got what I'd buried for so long. Those guys didn't even like me. Damn. So many men that I'd shared my time and my body with didn't even like me. What have I been doing this whole time?!

I think what kept me shielded from this for so long is that I'm Malika. Everybody likes me. I'm funny. I'm kind. I'm thoughtful. I'm affectionate. I'm loving. What's not to like, right? I've realized in the past that some of the men I dated ultimately disliked me because they hated themselves and they felt threatened and intimidated by my ability to love myself, while they struggled to do the same. They were initially drawn to my outgoing personality, but they grew to resent it, because they struggled to be liked, confident, and social. I've seen it an identified the behavior in many men and women, and because of it, I've gotten to be far more selective about who I allow in my personal space. But the comments from those women made me really deep dive and see how many men truly didn't like me, I was just convenient. Whether it was sex, time, attention, emotional support, or any other resource, and because I'm a giver, I was an endless supply.

I needed badly to process this new info. I then called a good friend, to get her thoughts. She admitted that yes, most of the men she dated didn't really like her either. Somehow, it felt comforting to hear another woman admit that most of the men she'd dated were equally as guilty. I still struggle to make sense of it. I can't fathom giving my body to someone I can't stand. Yet, so many men seem to be comfortable with the practice. Not that anyone asked me, but that's disgusting on every level.

I guess I needed this revelation. Because moving forward, I intend to be a hell of a lot more selective about who I entertain and I plan to watch their behavior like a hawk. Because I like and love myself. And I refuse to let anyone else's inability to do the same, somehow become my burden to bear.

And as I received this realization, I've also seen the political changes since the election. And I've seen some pictures floating around that perfectly sum up my feelings about everything going on. 

And now that I'm seeing that there are men who willingly hold space in my life, while simultaneously not caring for my well-being, I shall now fall back. This ain't my fight anymore. For those in my life who have shown grace, or will show up and show love later, I'll always fight to protect them, regardless of race or gender. But the others? Nah. Let it burn.

"Please Don't Give Up On Me"/"I Don't Know Him"

I'd reached my breaking point. It was a long-distance thing, and because we'd had so much in common, I continued to coach him on what I needed and wanted. And nearly every time, he delivered. I was smitten and I appreciated his effort. But what else did I need that I never got? His physical presence. Sure, we could sit on the phone for hours and discuss our favorite Stevie Wonder records and dissect the greatness of Marvin Gaye. We talked about house music and coincidentally, we knew many mutual Atlanta heavy hitters, and whenever I'd tell him I ran into such-and-such, he knew them well. We were both book lovers, who happened to share a love of biographies.

In many ways, he was perfect. And because of our commonalities, I let his physical absence slide. But it started to get old and I told him that. Initially, it was due to his job. He had quite possibly the worst working schedule an individual can have. But still, I worked around it. I made the journey to see him early on. Only one time though. I needed to know that we meshed, and we did. Well, sorta. There were some things that were left to be desired, and because I liked him and saw potential, I told him. I believed in him enough to give him the chance to see it through.

And eventually, the job was no longer an issue. I was excited. I'd already convinced him that the job was dead weight and he needed to do something else, so he was in the process of interviewing anyway. He had a side project to work, which he did. We texted throughout the day, and that evening, he updated me about the gig he'd just completed. He assured me that if he was paid in cash, he'd come down the following day.

I checked in the following day, wanting to know how to plan out my weekend. That's when he casually told me that he needed to drop something off to a friend way later in the day and he'd hit the road then. The issue was that it would take several hours to get here by car, so rather than drop the shit off early, he'd leave late. I already knew what that meant. I didn't feel like hearing "it's kinda late to get on the road, so I'm coming another time" because that's exactly what was going to happen. I casually texted back "No worries." And I meant it. I wasn't mad. I was fucking done. 

For several months I'd accepted excuse after excuse of why he couldn't appear. The job was no longer a hindrance, he'd just been paid well for a gig, and could easily drive to see me. But once again, there was some bullshit going on. I festered. I chatted with a girlfriend of mine and the more I talked to her, the more I knew it was time. I texted him a nice little message, basically saying "I enjoy your friendship, let's keep it that way." 

I meant it too. I really do enjoy and appreciate his friendship, but the space he was attempting to occupy was not being met with the attention I'd require. It's one thing to be a guy that I'm fucking, it's completely something else to try to be my man. I was done with feeling like everything in his life took priority, and it finally hit that I'd never be number one, even in the get-to-know-you stage. I'm glad we never did the do, even though we'd talked about it. How could we? I never saw him.

He texted me back that he had plans to come to town the following weekend. I informed him that I already had plans, so whatever. Truthfully, his response agitated me even more. He just casually blew me off, in spite of me warning earlier him that he was on his last leg, and he just assumed that the following weekend would be better? Nah, playboy. Think again.

But then he texted me with those words. "Please don't give up on me." In an ideal world, that would hit different. But it didn't. It struck an all too familiar chord. I had another man once hit me with the "please don't give up on me." And what I took from being asked not to give up on him was me seeing that he knew that he was fucking up, but he went full steam ahead with it anyway, with the expectation that when he was ready, he'd show up and show out.

I told him quite honestly then that I need to be with someone in closer proximity, and so does he. He didn't respond. I've wanted to call him, but I decided not to. I will at some point. Just not now. I continue to think that he's a great person. Just not great for me. I'm glad that I was wise enough to let Hot Girl Summer Malika do her thing, while testing out the waters with dude. No need to shut off my steady supply of attention and back scratchers for a maybe, ya dig?

When I envision myself with a significant other, I see someone who cannot wait to be in the same room with me. Someone who would move heaven and earth to see my smile in person. A man whose only wish in life is to see me and feel my lips on his one more time. And I've had that from men before. Granted, they all had some funky shit going on too (which is why I left them alone, obviously). But this ain't it, and I think it's time we stop pretending that it is.

I feel myself entering a season of contemplation. I think I'm going to scale back on dating for a while. I need to get my funds and my mind in order. I'm so glad it's fall. Time to get back to writing and being goal oriented. I bought my house (hallelujah!), but now the goal is to pay down some bills so I can work on some household improvements I want to make and paying down the actual home. I don't want or need the distraction of false promises, I've had more than enough of those. Time to focus and plan.

***

Tiombe Lockhart does an amazing version of the song "California Dreaming." I loved it way before I'd ever made a decision to move there. I didn't even know that one of my faves, Robert Glasper, was on it. No wonder I've had this song in rotation for over 20 years now. Anyway lately, the lyrics have been hitting pretty heavy.

"All the leaves are brown
And the sky is gray
I woke up in the world
And I was still here
I wouldn't have this day
If I was in L.A"

And honestly, on some of these dreary days, I think how much I'd love to just hop a plane and go sit on a beach in California. Not like it's fun in the sun weather there now. But it ain't this. 

When I was still dealing with Fred, I'd use any excuse to take a long weekend and go see him. But the last time I saw him was- well, just that. No need to rehash it here. But it was time. It was beyond time. He's done and said some fucked up things over the years, however this one just pulled out the last shred of interest I had in him. I didn't cry. I was cried out by then. I didn't even spend days or weeks mulling over it. Yeah, I vented to some friends, friends who knew for years that I could do much better, but that was pretty much it. 

Fred was also pretty annoyed that I told a mutual friend of his that he and I had been doing the nasty. I think he felt more annoyed that I'd managed to destroy the pristine image he'd managed to build for himself. The more I learned about L.A., the more I understood his draw to it. Millions of people go there regularly, to create their new identity. And I showed up like a hurricane and swept away his precious reputation. I'm not apologetic either. Don't do bullshit to me and then expect me to help you maintain your good boy reputation. I don't have shit to hide. No one can hold a damned thing over my head, and I live that way on purpose.

He still comes to mind, on occasion. It sucks that all of my L.A. people pretty much left. They were priced out and sick of the crime. It sucks, because normally, I'd have Fred pick me up from the airport, and then I'd go brunch or shop with homegirls and pick someone to crash with for a day or two, before returning to my mundane life in Atlanta. But that life and those resources are gone. My high school bestie is here, and she happens to be from L.A. We've discussed flying out for a weekend, and I'm sure we will eventually but like me, she's lining up some ducks and paying down bills first

But even though he's no longer my go-to L.A. guy, I still look back fondly on him. At least on the old version of him that I continued to believe in. I knew that guy, and I loved that guy. And I still do. I still love and cling to the person I knew who made me feel special, who loved me and traveled with me and confided in me and supported me, and stayed on the phone for hours, and partied with me. I really do love that version of him. But this guy? This guy right here? I can't help but to go all Mariah Carey. "I don't know him."

I have no idea where my long-term beach cutie went. Perhaps it was a mirage. Actually, I know it was. And in some strange way, I'm grateful for the act he put up. I loved that act, and I believe in my heart of hearts that the same act loved me too. I think I'm grieving that period and that act. And it's okay to grieve it, but it's time to embrace reality, not who people pretend to be, but being surrounded by real people. People who are honest and genuine, and loving.

I continue to be amazed at the beauty of the people around me. They are loving, intelligent, kind, supportive, all of that. And the more I work with lonely people, who are at their lowest, the more grateful I am to have individuals who are flawed, but sincere. Individuals who possess loyalty, integrity, and a heart as big as all outdoors. 

So I may be entering another season where I sit back and pour into myself. It also helps that I just had a small operation that put me out of commission for a while, not that I was planning anything anyway. No centering men. Nah. Just writing, focusing on my child, my money, my goals and my future. My new way of living is to let the trash take itself out. Seems to be easier that way, ya know?