We Cry Together

I'm undeniably a Kendrick Lamar fan. I was geeked about the new album, like all die hard fans. I copped it the very first day, anxious to get a feel for what K. Dot was blessing us with next. It wasn't a banger like To Pimp a Butterfly, Damn, or Good Kid Mad City. But it spoke to me. One particular track that I didn't expect to hit me right in the feels was "We Cry Together." In it, a toxic couple curse one another and argue loudly. It was triggering, to say the least. It took me back to living with my son's father. My poor child having to witness my utter misery. I was sick to my stomach, hearing those words.

Another jarring aspect of the song was the fact that I knew in my spirit that was the kind of relationship that Theo wanted. The anger, resentment, walking on eggshells, toxic interaction. I wasn't about to repeat that shit after living like for years with my baby daddy. But still, that song hit me hard.

My dating life is pretty dry, but I think I like it this way. I met a guy last week and was 50/50 on if I'd see him again. He was attractive and made me feel safe. The kissing was nice too. The issue came when I couldn't get him on the phone for even the small things. Old me would have communicated that his lack of phone/texting was a concern to me. New me recognizes that if  you naturally don't like dating and open communication, I'm going to ghost your ass and leave you to waste years of the next woman's life.

What really got me to this point was my time with Ted. I spent literal years waiting for the bare minimum from him. I'm absolutely not going to waste that kind of time or energy again. With any man. That's why Theo had to go. I really miss who I thought he was, and I'm trying to find solace in being proud that I got rid of his ass before he did any real damage to my psyche or my peace. Still, it kinda hurts regardless.

I thought back on it recently, and I realized that I haven't had sex in 2 months. The last romp was with Fred in L.A. The wild thing is that I really don't even miss it. I've certainly had and have opportunities. And I can't even front, the chocha, is feeling good. Not masturbating or anything, but I know that girlfriend is in great shape. Whoever I break the seal for is going to be one lucky bastard. I'm planning to see Fred sometime in the fall, so perhaps it'll be him? I don't even know anymore. Don't really care either.

I just started a new diabetes medication. I swore that I was heading into perimenopause, but my doctor suggested that my issues with my body stem from this stupid diabetes. My cravings are lessening, but not by much. But still, this particular medication has been used by a lot of people to help with weight loss. I'm going to accept that like my mother and grandmother, I'm going to be roughly this size forever. But at least I can tone up and get this sugar addiction under control.

My new job is giving so much to ponder in the meantime. It's way easier than I thought it would be. I guess because I work with dying people, but not people I know personally. Plus most of my patients are older individuals. I have a somewhat younger patient (I believe he's in his 50's) and he's struggling with completing some planning paperwork. I know that his struggle with completing the paperwork stems from his struggles with his past.

I've only been there for just over a month now, but I'm surprised with how casually we discuss death with our clients and with each other. I feel that the older clients are normally more okay with talking about their deaths because 1) they've seen so many people die as it is and 2) because they've been sick for so long that they've made peace with it being whatever it is. I've always had a weird relationship with death, so this job just allows me to use my gifts, I guess. Plus it's so much easier and less drama than anything I've done before. I'm already considering working in hospice again whenever I leave Atlanta.

On top of the career stuff, working in hospice has shown me the kind of partner I want in life. I see dedicated husbands and wives and children. I think to myself, I want the kind of man who actually deserves that kind of loyalty and care. Today I was talking to Fred in L.A. and I told him that if he ever got sick, I'd gladly care for him. I think he'd do the same for me. The issue, however, is that I don't want a man who I think would care for me, I need someone who I know would. That's a whole new bar for dating. And I appreciate it for what it is.

In another lane, the birthday happens in a couple of weeks and I'm heading to Denver for the uncle's service. I'm making peace with his death. I understand that the logistics of getting together a service for someone of his magnitude is a lot. But I just keep thinking that I'm finally making peace with his death only to have to rip the bandaid off by having the service so far out. But the blessing is that I'll be hopping a plane and spending time with family for his service and I'll be back in Atlanta the day before my big day. It's kind of a blessing, because being that I just started my new job, I wouldn't have felt comfortable hopping a plane for my birthday, asking for the time off. But the uncle's death serves as the perfect reason to take some time off right by my big day.

Overall, I'm good. I'm at peace. I'm flourishing. My credit is doing pretty good. My hair is looking great. If these meds do what they're supposed to do, not only will my diabetes be under control for the first time in some years, I'll be toning up, spending more time in the gym as well. I'm driving a car that I love. I value myself and I only surround myself with people who value me as much as I value myself. I'm trying to get my business off the ground and I recently got an LLC.

Kendrick's song reminded me of where I was 10 years ago. Beat down, tired, neglected, overlooked. And I continued that horrible pattern for years later. But now, I'm on the other side. I'm a business owner with good hair, good skin, and a good spirit. Suck on that, bitches.

The End

So my uncle died. I knew that it was coming. I just didn't expect it so soon. I was tempted to link more info about him, but I forgot that he was a public figure in the city where he'd lived for years, and I'm aware that I have "haters" who hate read my blog. I don't understand claiming to hate me so much, then dedicating mental space to see how I'm living my life, but thanks for the readership, I guess?

Anyway, Uncle Tippy is gone. I definitely have thoughts on it. I spent the last 5 years being part of his care team. When I did my last cross country drive, I purposely placed it so that I could stop in his city to see him. A small part of me knew that the last time that I visited him would be the last time that I saw him. There have been a flood of emotions since he died. Obvious grief. Anger. Confusion. 

What I think stings the most is that it all just ties in to the loss of my cousin, Ali. When Ali died, I rejoiced slightly in knowing that he'd be reuniting with our cousin, Jarronn. And there's just a bit of happiness here with my uncle reuniting with Ali. But it just isn't the same thing. 

While the press is saying that my Uncle Tippy died from diabetes, there's no doubt in my mind that he died from a broken heart. . I don't think my uncle was able to live with the guilt of not fully recognizing at the time, the gem that his older son was and the emotions were eating him alive. He couldn't escape his feelings this time. He had to sit in it. And he didn't like it. And now he's gone.

I talked to my cousin's widow, not knowing that she was not aware of her father-in-law's passing a few hours prior. She was fine, until I mentioned that I felt he died from a broken heart. She began sobbing. She said that she'd felt the same way too. Obviously, I felt horrible for my uncle having to live with things playing out the way they did. It made me sad to think that my own father won't really value me until I'm dead. I honestly hope he lives to see me die first, just so he can know what it's like. Is it wrong for me to feel that way? Probably.

I told my cousin's widow how much I'm holding it all together on the surface, and I'm proud of that. No one outside of my immediate friends would know that I'm suffering. But I am. I told my cousin's widow that my uncle dying felt like an end of sorts. Not like the end of an era, but something like that. We all spent so much time enmeshed with one another. The good, the bad, the ugly. Even when Ali died, we were all still concerned about his father. We all knew that the uncle was hurting. But we didn't know it was this bad.

I guess the good is that us cousins, from all walks of life (the 4 of us) have grown closer since then. Being there when Ali died bonded us in a way that I don't think any of us expected. But we were all there. And now that my uncle is gone, my cousin's widow, my cousin in Louisiana, and myself will at some point descend on Denver so that we can support my cousin who has lost his father and his only sibling just three short months apart. This is just a hard tragedy to wrap your mind around. I guess the upcoming funeral will close out this era of my life and usher in something new. The second my insurance kicks in for my job, I plan to go see a therapist. I'll definitely need help learning and coping with my new normal.

On another note, I was inspired by some colors I saw at work the other day, and while I'm not sure I'll paint my current bedroom, I will definitely paint my writing nook. If I have to close out one chapter of my life, the least I can do is bring in some new colors and spruce up my writing area, to usher in another.

Monday was my first day at the new job. Hospice. Wow. I knew that the location of the job was in the absolute sticks, but I had no clue how much I'd enjoy the commute. I go against traffic, never having to slam on brakes during rush hour. There are literally horses and cows all in the area. I like it.

I've always had a strange relationship with death, I just never thought I'd be working with people who are literally dying. Outside of the location far outside of the city, I enjoy the slower pace of my current workplace. Unlike other jobs where the goal is to keep someone alive and healthy, with this position I am painfully aware that my patients here are definitely going to die. There's no crazy ass rush and no insane amounts of paperwork. I could definitely do this forever. I haven't met my clients yet, but I'm looking forward to it.

I was, however, shocked on Friday when as we were looking in on a client, and I looked up to see the coroner rolling out a dead body. I mean, the body was covered, but still. I just wasn't ready for that. I know that this is something that I will have to get used to. It took me back to watching my cousin being carried out after he passed. I almost described the scene right here, but 1) it's still kind of a tender subject for me and 2) I'd like to respect his privacy toward the end. He was always such a proud man.

That same evening, I talked to my cousin, Ali's brother, only to learn that his dad, my uncle isn't doing very well. I think my uncle is feeling a lot of guilt, coupled with his lack of independence, and I don't think he wants to live like this anymore. I know he doesn't. My cousin is currently faced with countless decisions regarding my uncle's care. All I could do is to remind him that I'm here to support him no matter what, but his father wouldn't want to live a life of complete dependence on others.

The same evening, I was out on the town and had several near car accidents. After the brain injuries caused by my last two accidents, I'm absolutely terrified of getting hit again. I have no idea what the long term implications will be for my last two concussions and I don't want to tempt fate. After my last near crash, my nerves were absolute shit. I actually ended up having a panic attack. Wild because that was my first panic attack in years. I cut my night short and went home.

The next day, my father said something pretty fucked up to me. Big shocker, right? That moment was when it occurred to me that I need to get to a therapist soon. I will always feel like both of my parents failed me so much. With things going well (like the book, and my money, and new job), I'm starting to feel... I don't know. Like I'm trying to hold the weight of it all together, but I'm ready to topple over already. I almost wish I could just go home and stay in bed and cry until it all makes sense. But I can't. But I'm tired.

My uncle will make 5 deaths of loved ones in as many years. I understand that death is a part of life. Even the job isn't too bad, because most of the patients are elderly and have lived a long life. Even my uncle. But what about Ali? What about Andrea? What about Pete? What about me?

Motivation: Auntie Energy

I got the hospice job. I start tomorrow. Oddly, it didn't occur to me earlier that many other people would have a hard time working with individuals who are dying. During my interview, they had me tour the facility, complete with sitting in the room with an individual who was taking his final breaths. I wanted badly to whisper to him that it was okay to let go, but I didn't want to get so deep and intimate in front of my new coworkers. But watching him all shriveled up and dying? Did absolutely nothing to me. I truly don't think I would have had the stomach for it, had I not watched my cousin in his final days. I like to think that once again, he's guiding my steps, much like he tried to do when he was here.

The pay wasn't quite what I wanted, and I'm nervous about adding even more miles to my car, but I'm looking forward to the opportunity. As time winds down and my son gets ready to enter high school, most of my movements are trying to align me with moving back to Cali in a few years. I look at this opportunity to work in hospice as something else to add to my resume so that when the time comes for me to relocate, I have plenty of experience to write my ticket into employment in L.A. I'm actually still re-eligible for hire at my previous job, and even stopped in to see my former boss when I was there. I miss those people.

Anyway, since decompressing and getting ready to go back into working, I've had a bit to focus on. Truthfully, I'm kinda hurt about how things ended with Theo. He could have headed on out, fine with me. We were clearly not aligned and were barely speaking in the end. What hurt me the most is that he made it a point to act especially nasty and say hurtful things during his exit. Bruh really wanted to act like I didn't look out for him, huh? The fact is that I knew that things were over when I called him out on some bullshit he did and he made a fucked up comment that was verbatim some shit my b.d. said to me previously. I knew then and there that his days with me were numbered. I did not come as far as I did to go back into another abusive relationship.

A few days after my job acceptance, I remembered that I'd promised myself that before I started a new job, I would submit my book to a publisher. I looked over my manuscript, pretty proud at what I'd written and decided to finish up the last few edits and submit it. Damn. I did it. Even if the editor isn't feeling it, I now have a completed book, ready for publishing. Wild. I'm also planning to receive my settlement from my accident that happened back in December. Holy shit, it looks like things are finally coming together.

I called Fred and discussed my frustration with my thoughts on the progress on things with Theo. Bruh could have headed on out, fine. We weren't even smashing in the end. And here I am, about to blow up and he vanishes. Fred did an amazing job of saying "all of the blessings you have since he left just shows that he didn't deserve to share the blessings that God is giving you." I felt it. I did. Or at least, I wanted to.

The next morning, I got an email. I'd been asked to come in for an interview for a social work position with a local district attorney's office. WHAT?! ME?! DAMN!!!!! I was floored. I want the hospice job, but if I can work with the D.A., helping people and be working closer to home, I'm all about it. I decided that I'm not going to share which jurisdiction it is, but yeah, this will be a good look for the resume as well. I wrote them back and indicated the day that works best for me. That was when Fred's words set in. The Universe really did clear him out, just in time for me to receive my blessings. All of these amazing things happening in my life. Exactly 7 days since Theo headed out and the world is opening up. 

And to just add to my blessings, I began taking a supplement when I got home from the road. I expected it to do good things for me. But what I didn't expect is that it has made my vagina exceptionally wet. Not that it was an issue before. I mean, progress, right?! I have a little "friend" who I've been seeing (nothing serious), but I told him about it and we're both excited to let him go for a test drive when he gets back in town. On top of that, I recently looked in the mirror, only to discover that the psoriasis that I've experienced on my chin is disappearing too. 

So lemme get this straight- dude left a week ago, and since then, I've gotten a new job, submitted my book to a publisher, just got the chance to interview for the job of a lifetime, my face has finally cleared up, AND I GOT THAT WAP?! His punk ass should have left earlier!!

And the next day, I checked my mail, only to find a check for $161 for an old overpayment. #Blessings

I'm geeked. I honestly haven't felt this good since I was moving to Cali a year ago. Things are finally progressing after so much death and despair.

On top of it all, I'm finally unpacking all of my stuff. Yeah, it's been a while. I have an inordinate amount of books and I almost headed to IKEA yesterday, to finally buy a bookshelf. I decided instead to look on Facebook Marketplace and I found a really cute bookshelf for only $15. My cousin, Lashondia, happened to be in town, so I had her help me to bring it in.

Since moving into this townhouse, I've wanted to create a little nook for writing, and I decided that my dining room would be the perfect place. I finally put together my old glass dining room table (I only have one chair, because the others were stolen, but I'm fine with what I have). I moved my new bookshelf into the nook area and set up my laptop here. This just feels right. I can finally write in my own little corner again.

So since I'm finally feeling like myself again, I'm starting to open my old packing boxes and finding new spots for things and throwing out other things. It's definitely process, but I'm enjoying it. I've been here since August and wasn't sure how long I'd be in this apartment, but it looks like I'll be here for at least another year, so it's time to make this place an actual home.

With all of my newfound and newly, truly single energy, I've decided that this summer will be all about the aunties. I've got liquid gold flowing through my legs and I look good. I feel good. I'm working again. Publishing, finally. I want to wear sundresses all summer and just enjoy life to the fullest. No deadbeat boyfriends, no baby daddies, no frenemy energy. I wanna drink margaritas and go to the beach. I don't want commitment of any sort, other than my son, my close friends/family, and my plans to move cross country in 4 years. I'm also planning to head back to Cali for a few days this summer, although how and when remain a mystery.

In a perfect world, I'd be able to feel this way without the bullshit that constantly comes at me. Not a perfect world though. But still, I'm happy. I'm content. I'm here.

Exhale

So I got home from my road trip last week. Thank God. It was a lot. But it was needed. Like I said before, I was in Denver. It was my first stop. I stayed at my cousin's house and later got to stay at the beautiful home of a family friend. It really helped to show me how I need to aligning myself and my goals with how I ultimately want to live. I was thankful for the experience, in addition to getting to see my uncle.

After Denver, I headed on over to Salt Lake City. I stayed with a friend there, and had a great time viewing the place. Next up, one of my favorite cities, Reno. Reno is kind of quiet and tucked away. I left my coat home (smart move, I know), and I couldn't help myself but to drive through the mountains just outside of Reno, by Lake Tahoe. As always, it was a great drive. I'd always wanted to see the mountains when they were full of snow and they did not disappoint. 

After the mountains and lake, I scooted on over to San Francisco. There really is no way to describe how much I love San Fran. It's so bright (yet chilly!) and high energy. I remember someone telling me some years ago that I came across as someone that would love Berkley and he was absolutely right. I'd love nothing more than being able to attend UC Berkley and get a doctorate in African American studies. Who knows, maybe someday? I ended up staying there longer than I'd intended. My first night, I got a hotel. My second day, I called Ali's mother and we went out. 

That was my first time really getting to speak with her like that. She and I often spoke in passing at Ali's home, but we never really connected like that. Until I saw her in SF, the most contact we had was when Ali was transitioning. Ali had told me to contact her while I was in SF, but I never did before. I honestly wish that I had. She was funny and charming. She was definitely goals in every way. It was pretty dope to hear a 75-year-old woman talk about men, sex, and even money. She mentioned being lonely since Ali passed away, and if I didn't have a son to return to, I would have immediately offered to move into her 3 bedroom home to hang out in San Francisco/Oakland. She allowed me to stay in her home the second night.

Next up, on the road to Los Angeles, what I'd come for. I got a hotel the first night. It wasn't the nicest, but it had a bed and a shower, which is all I'd needed at the moment. I called my former supervisor, hoping to see him, but he was working from home that day, so I decided to stay one extra day. I reached out to a woman who I'd originally met through Fred. She asked if I wanted to crash at her place (heck yes!) and she eventually asked me about Fred. I admitted to her that we'd had a 15-year thing and that I no longer wanted to associate with him. I also admitted that I'd had a lot of shit to put in my car and that I needed help getting it out of storage. She encouraged me to contact him and ask for help. I refused.

That night, she and I and a girlfriend of hers went out to eat and had the most amazing Brazilian food. The following morning, I got up bright and early, trying to figure out how to get things together. I eventually had a "fuck it" moment and texted him, saying "I need help getting my stuff out of storage. Are you free today?" (which I knew he was). He immediately called me and asked when I'd be in town. My response was "I got here 2 days ago." "Oh," was his only response.

Two hours later, I picked him up from his home and we headed to the storage unit. The day before, I'd gone in and tossed a few no longer needed items, leaving a bear bones amount. I'd also decided the day before that I'd take the innards out of the beanbag chair that I'd planned to bring home. We got there and he worked tirelessly to help me get everything into my car. Deflating the beanbag chair was an utter nightmare and I like to think that Andrea was in the clouds, laughing her butt off about the absolute mess we managed to make with that damned thing.

When I first saw him, I was cool. Barely looked him in the eye. I remained angry and hurt about our last encounter. I'd actually sworn that I'd never see him again. Yet he always manages to be right there, when I need him. When he's not being an ass. Once we were done, I offered to buy us dinner. I felt that it was the least I could do, after all he dropped his plans at the last minute and did a fuck ton of physical labor, just to help me. He offered to buy me dinner instead. We settled for Korean barbeque. We talked about our last exchange and I admitted to him that if he'd called  me the same way that I called him, I wouldn't have helped him. "Yes you would" he responded. I gave him the 'if you say so' smirk and maintained that I wouldn't have. I told him that his dickish behavior has been a lot to manage. I said "if I'm telling you that you're being a dick, I need you to hear me." He responded with "I'd like to get to the point of stopping myself before I even get to that point." That actually meant so much to me. That he didn't want to be corrected after the fact, he wanted to stop himself before. Come through, king! Although my plan was to head to Vegas that night, I was beyond exhausted. I asked Fred if I could stay the night as his apartment. He said yes...

The next morning, I got up and showered, ready to face Vegas. I spent so much time in Vegas with my friend last summer that even though it was a Saturday night, I had zero desire to hit the Strip, plus I was still exhausted (I'm getting OLD). I ordered takeout sushi for my homeboy and I and crashed on his super comfy couch.

Vegas was my last planned overnight stop. I left the next day and stopped in Santa Fe. I love Santa Fe, it's so cute. I got some trinkets and a bite to eat and got back on the road. At that point, I'd felt that the trip had been a success. I got my stuff, paid my last bit of storage, and got to process my cousin's death. God, I miss him. Anyway, I was somewhere in Texas, when I was on the phone with a homegirl of mine. Out of nowhere, she starts accusing me of "running from (my) problems" by taking this trip. I explained calmly that even if my cousin wouldn't have died, I still would have done the drive. Simply because I was paying through the nose in storage and my new car note was expensive and I couldn't afford to be paying nearly $200 monthly in storage plus my car note. She didn't hear me. She stated that with my loss of having to move back to Atlanta from L.A., plus other losses, I was clearly struggling and could benefit from a therapist.

I agreed that I could quite possibly be experiencing some depression, but her assessment of me being "in crisis" was absurd. I tried to explain that as a mental health professional, "in crisis" meant that I was going off the deep end. She said that I was "driving cross country, aimlessly" and I attempted to explain that I wasn't aimless, I literally had a very justifiable reason to drive. Sure, had Ali not passed, I probably would have taken a more direct route, but I wasn't working and I had some shit to work out, so why not take a bit longer and enjoy the ride? She even talked shit about my taking out a loan to pay for the trip. I explained that I had to take it then, because my son was on spring break, plus it made more sense to take this trip before I started working, than to begin working and request a week off.

She was undeterred. Even relentless. I was enraged. I ended the conversation, furious. She tried to call me back, but I didn't answer. Then she sent me a long ass text message, trying to again express her concern for me because I'd gone of the deep end and that I need to stop running from my problems.

I continued to drive on home. I felt violated and outraged. I can handle being called out. But I can't handle someone incorrectly calling me out. Depressed? Sure. My last couple of years have been challenging. But running from my problems?! ME?! WHO?! Never!!

I got home and Theo was there. Things had really dried up between us. I'd come to see that he wasn't really the man he pretended to be and I had very little interest in maintaining anything with him. He unloaded the car and brought in all of my storage items.

As I began to decompress from my trip, I thought back on what my acquaintance accused me of. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that she'd really been deflecting. She'd actually moved to California a few years before me and had to move back because she couldn't afford it. On top of that, her kids' dad died a couple of years ago. I think that she looked at my travels with envy, because the fact is that I was able to process in a way that she couldn't. I was able to leave my child with loved ones and travel. Even though it was business, she saw my ability to lose a loved one and experience challenges and find a healthy way to escape for a minute and get my head together. She's talked to me about how she doesn't have much support to help with her young children after their father died. What she would have given for a chance to drive cross country alone  to process her loss. So she looked at my trip with envy and wanted to find a way to dismiss what she wished she'd had the chance to do. Which I can respect. But I really resent her throwing up things I'd told her, in an attempt to make me look like an ass.

She called me a few days later. I sent it to vm. She texted me and said that she owes me an apology. I'll talk to her at some point. Just not now.

And things are over with Theo. It felt strange at first. He ended up being very petty and childish. I miss who I thought he was. But I know he's now making some other woman miserable with is controlling bullshit and I'm okay with that.

I've been trying to meditate more lately. I finally finished the book I started a year ago. I'm quite proud of it. Now to get onto getting it trademarked and published. Plus I interviewed for a hospice social work position yesterday, and I'm looking forward to being able to do this. I like to think that Ali's death has helped me be able to help others. He would have wanted it that way.

Healing, Grieving, Focus, Life

I realized a while back that Ali's death was hitting me harder than expected. It never occurred to me how much he was a part of my life until he was gone. I promised myself that 2022 was going to be some sort of cornerstone year and while I'm trying to move forward with that plan, as it's wont to do, life is giving me life on life's terms.

My cousin's death hit me like a ton of bricks, making it hard to focus at my last job. My sleep schedule was shit for a while, coupled with other stressors. It didn't end well. I was hurt at how things happened, but the more I lived and processed, the more I knew that I needed to  really focus. Plus, I wasn't happy with how they ran things. On top of that, when I returned after my cousin's death, I wasn't really given the support that I would have liked, considering that I made it known that I was struggling. Once the shock wore off, I was a bit relieved. I've decided that my next job needs to be one that while still being social work, will be less clinical, with less paperwork, allowing me to focus far more on clients. But first I decided to finally focus on my personal goals.

One of the first things I did was to FINALLY finish writing my book. Now I have to go back and edit some things, but the main part is complete. While that feels amazing to admit, there's still so much more to do to get it ready. I'll be honest and admit that there's a bit of anxiety about it all, but I know in my spirit that I'm ready.

As I started to focus on my finances, it also became apparent that I needed to go back to Los Angeles to tie up loose ends regarding my storage that I was paying through the nose for. I decided that I may as well drive on around the country again, to get to L.A. I'm currently in Denver, staying at my family friend's home and it is beautiful! Her husband is a successful attorney and their home is so warm and comforting. I joked with my friend that her guest room is nicer than many of the hotels I have stayed in. My next stop is Salt Lake City, before I head on over to Reno, before I hit San Francisco. Things in my life could be much better, but they sure as shite could be worse.

While here, I also stopped in to see my uncle, who is Ali's father. His health is rapidly declining, and coupled with grieving his son, I'm not sure how much longer he has. But I wanted to lay eyes on him, plus his other son is with family in Florida at the moment, so since I'm in town, I decided to say hello while giving other family members updates about his health. While my plan was to move back to L.A. in a few years, I'm actually considering making Denver my home in a few years instead. I love looking up and seeing mountains in the distance.

I guess while grieving my cousin is obviously a slow moving process, on another note, I'm starting to decide upon yet another struggle that I'm having. I don't know how to say this, but I'm really struggling with men. I mean, not like that. It's just that- well, I'm really starting to understand just how trash most men are. I've realized how much I've been manipulated and guilted into taking and accepting trash ass behavior from men, with the understanding that if I waited long enough for some tired ass dude, he'd eventually turn into Mr. Right. 

My new understanding is simply "Fuck that noise." I like me and I like how I live my life and I'm sick and tired of feeling like something is wrong with me for loving myself. No more dealing with whack ass excuses from men and no more feeling something is wrong with me when some dude doesn't do the bare minimum in a relationship.

Today I even reached a whole new level of clarity. I realized that had my ex David and I stayed together, if we'd even gotten married, I still would have divorced him at some point. Because he was trash. And the proof in the pudding that he was trash is that he picked a trash ass bitch to marry. No man worth a salt is openly picking women who did shit like call and threaten his mother. Yeah, that's what his baby mama did. And he chose her. Sounds like a real class act, right? Yeah, I sure as shit dodged a bullet. And I'm thankful.

I'm also really going to scale back on my guy friends. Only because I realize that most of my guy friends at some point have tried to sleep with me. Or they just want some sort of nanny/mother figure, they can put all of their emotional shit off on. Like seriously, the more I look at the men around me, I realized that about 90% of them are utter garbage. And that I'm no longer going to be made guilty for putting myself first.

Case in point, I talked a while ago about my former coworker, who has expressed his affection for me, but I shut it down once I realized that he needs me. Anyway, dude called me recently, and I told him that things with Theo aren't working and I'm throwing in the towel. The former coworker, in spite of the overwhelming evidence that I should step away, tried to paint me as the issue in the relationship. One thing about Malika is that she's up front about when she's wrong. I own my shit. And Theo essentially did everything he could to win me over, and quickly showed his ass once he felt my guard was lowered. And I quickly told him that I'm not with the games and ended it. He was hurt. He even cried when I started dating other men. But fuck that noise. Don't cry about me seeing a new man when you weren't doing what I clearly stated I needed.

Over the last 13/14 odd years on this blog, I've discussed countless men that I held onto for too long. I'm not doing that again. I'm no longer going to be bread crumbed into waiting for a man to reciprocate. If he's not showing up from the gate, I'm leaving his ass. I'm not explaining shit and I'm not repeating myself. I also shamelessly use my block button with a vengeance. I don't apologize or explain when I'm blocking someone. If you show your ass or I see you attempting to take more than you've given or earned, I will disappear. I don't owe anyone an explanation for protecting my space and my peace.

Truthfully, I wish I'd understood this about both Fred and Ted. I held on to both of them for a combined total of 20 years, and yeah, I was dicked down well, but aside from that, all I got was lame excuses and tears. When I go to L.A. in a few days, I'm not even going to see Fred. Cuz FUCK THAT NOISE.

When Pete died, I shut down for a while. I guess with that, I got a better understanding of grief, and understanding that no matter how we feel in the moment, it doesn't last forever. So this time around, I'm allowing myself to feel whatever I feel, to process it, examine it, hold it, learn from it, and release it. And while I'm still missing my cousin terribly, there's so much to absorb and unpack from this season of my life and I can't be anything but thankful and honored for that.

I'm not sure that I'll be dating in the future. And if I do, it'll be only because it's what I want, not because I'm guilted or attached in some codependent nightmare of a coupling. I finally see that I deserve the very best from the beginning. #Progress

Into Focus

Yesterday started out like any other. At least any of the others since I took my work hiatus. I spent a few hours in a coffeehouse, slowly plugging away at my book. Since I've been on work hiatus, I've managed to add roughly 500 words a day. Not too much, but certainly making progress, since a large body of the work is already done.

I sat in the coffeehouse, seriously considering that it may be time to leave social work for good. I'm burned out. I'm great with people and clients, but on an administrative level, I just can't seem to get a good leg up on it. Between adding words to my book, I occasionally looked online for any other positions that I felt would suit me. Suddenly it was time to go. I walked outside and saw a gentleman sitting on a brick wall. "Hello," I greeted him, walking in the direction of my car. The gentleman then stopped me and explained that he'd previously been on a MARTA bus when he began having a panic attack. The man had a blood pressure cuff on his arm and breathed heavily in and out.

I stopped and asked the man to identify 5 things that he saw around him. Then I asked him to tell me 4 things he felt. Followed by 3 things he could hear. Then two things he smelled and one thing he tasted. I explained to the man that was called a grounding technique to help calm him when he feels himself getting overworked. Then I explained to him what box breathing is and encouraged him to utilize box breathing to remain present. Then I told the gentleman that unless he has an absolute medical reason to have a blood pressure cuff on his arm, focusing on is pulse and blood pressure was more likely just going to trigger more anxiety.

The guy said "you're right, it probably is, thank you." Then I encouraged him to take a few minutes and slowly begin walking toward his home. "You can do it, I have faith in you," I told him. "How can you have faith in me? You don't know me" he responded. I ended up saying to him, "I'm a social worker with 10 years experience of working in mental health. I've seen it all and I know for a fact that you can do this." I explained to him that I had to leave, but I have him the Black power fist, and walked away.

*Sigh* I swear I feel like social work is like the mafia to me. Every time I think I'm out, I'm pulled right back in.

I got home and decided to call an old girlfriend of mine. I caught her up on my life, telling her about the recent passing of my cousin, in addition to my temporary work hiatus and my goal of finishing my book and cementing some creative endeavors before I stumble back into the work force. She, in turn, told me how she's now seeing clients as a coach. She began telling me about how she'd kind of stumbled onto it, and how she's now building a practice of it.

The amazing thing is that she's not even a licensed social worker or therapist. To her credit, she has done a lot of work on herself and participated an a lot of retreats and self-help activities to get clarity in her life. She's probably the only non-master's person I'd trust not to completely fuck up working with someone. But it occurred to me that if she can do this, I possibly could as well.

I detest the term "life coach" because they are largely a group of barely certified people with no educational or governing board, so basically any asshole can call themselves a life coach and do all kinds of damage to a person's mental health or act in an extremely unprofessional manner and there is no degree of accountability. On the other hand, as a licensed social worker, if I do something egregious in my field, I risk having my license revoked. One of many reasons that I'm careful with how I engage with clients. I'll probably sound like an elitist bitch when I say this, but I'm kind of burned up when someone with just a life coaching certificate has the gall to act as though we have the same training. (We do NOT!) 

Anyway, my friend was telling me that all I had to do was select which modalities I'd prefer to work with, which was easy for me, as I already work with modalities in my field. I'd utilize CBT, ACT, and mindfulness as a coach. It all started to come together for me. I immediately began to think about a former client of mine who I felt could use my services. I got off of the phone with her, but before hanging up, she encouraged me to try to get two clients before she and I meet for coffee next week.

That night I went home and compiled a list of things that I would need to work on the following day, including creating a description of the services that I offer in addition to a bit of written information about me to advertise my services and the benefit of working with a coach who has actual mental health education as opposed to one with a basic certificate. It was all starting to come together.

The next day (a.k.a. today), I decided to take my last Vyvanse so that I could focus fully on my extensive list. Because of some running around that I had to do, I got to my coffeehouse kind of late, but I opened up my book and I plugged away at it for nearly 6 hours. For 6 hours, I did not move, not even to go to the rest room. When I first started working on my book again, I had just over 16k words. Today, I finally passed the threshold of 23k words. I couldn't believe it. I looked at the word counter on my laptop hit 23,002 and I started beaming. The fact is that I knocked out over 2k words today, alone.

My goal is roughly 25k-30k words, which means that I'm finally starting to bring things together. Once I finish this book, my next goal is to submit it to some people to get feedback before I reach out to one of the publishers that I've had circling.

Once I made it to my car, the date sunk in. *sigh* This weekend is roughly around the anniversary of Andrea and Pete's deaths. Actually, before I even realized the dates, I took a whiff of the night air. It was familiar. Slight hints of grass, a mild, slightly warm night. It reminded me of the night that I learned that Pete died. I recall how I sat outside on my car, staring up at the stars. I knew he was one of those stars. I got into my car, and coincidentally, each of the 3 songs that played managed to remind me indivudally of Pete, Andrea, and my aunt. What are the odds? I started weeping. I was angry. Why the hell are the people I love dying at the same fucking time every year? And what surprised me the most was that at some point, I didn't even know which loved one I was crying about. Adding my favorite cousin to the list only makes it sting that much more.

I got home this evening and called my father to ask the best way to start obtaining some clients. My dad immediately expressed fear about my lack of full-time work at the moment. I assured him that I actually have some irons in the fire in terms of full-time jobs, but explained that while I'm working full-time, it's hard to work on the creative aspects of building a company. I assured him that while that part is on the back burner, I'd rather be creative now, while I don't have to work 9 to 5. I also told him that financially, I'm quite possibly in the best shape I've been in a while and that my money is not an issue at the moment.

I feel like this is my "Up to Bat" moment. For the first time ever, the money, the creativity, the time, the desire, and the courage are all working together to align me to build something. I don't know quite what it is yet, but I'm seeing it shape up. The fact is that I've had a major idea of mine stolen in the past by a well-known figure so I'm playing this one close to the vest. But I see it. I feel it. I taste it! It's finally here. 

Changes

 At the end of 2021, I swore to myself that 2022 would be good. I proclaimed it. I was good, finally furnishing my home the way I wanted, left the last toxic job. I told myself that I'd finish my book on Black women and spirituality, the one that I started while spending my weekends with Andrea last year. I was ready. Things were flowing.

That's when I got the call from my cousin Kendall that his brother, my cousin Ali, was headed home to go into hospice. His cancer had spread and he didn't have much more time. I remember the feeling of utter disbelief. My cousin. Ali. Not Ali.

Ever since I was a little girl, Ali had been my favorite cousin. When he lived out of state, whenever I saw his father, my Uncle Tippy, I'd immediately ask about Ali. Where was he and how was he? Ali was my person. My own son bears the middle name, Ali. When I needed advice, Ali was my person. Ali?

I called Ali's wife to check in and she told me that he'd already been brought home. She told me that of course I could come over. I drove over and walked immediately into the bedroom to see him. My massively tall, 6'4 cousin, was practically a skeleton. I couldn't believe it. No my cousin. Not Ali. I said to him that it never occurred to me just how much I loved him until I saw him like that. He gave me a quizzical look. I'd never thought about how much I loved him because I never had to. He as always there. Even though I'd known that he was sick, saying goodbye simply never occurred to me.

Just a few days previously, we'd been texting about me visiting him in the hospital, which I ultimately did not do because I was waiting for his wife's negative Covid test, as I'd spent time with her and the kids just days prior.

And then it was time. The end. Kendall eventually made it into town from Denver, in addition to our other cousin, Maya from Baton Rouge. We spent a lot of time laughing between our tears. That and eating. God bless the people that fed us the good stuff during that week.

Ali died that Thursday night. I wasn't there. I got the call just before 4am, and rushed back over to their home. He lay there in the bed. Those heavy breaths were no more. He was so thin. I grabbed his hand and told him how much I loved him and how much I would miss him. I thanked him for loving me, even when I was difficult. I thanked him for giving me a family. I told him that I loved him. Ali is dead.

The aftermath is what it was. I ended up leaving my job. I'm blessed to have some money saved up in addition to some money coming in. I'm thankful to not have to work at the moment. I want to just be alone and hide. Ali is gone. It's been a month now. It's not supposed to be this way. Ali isn't here.

In the meantime, I decided that I'm finally going to finish the book that I'd started writing while I was spending weekends with Andrea. I put out a few resumes and I was surprised to see that I'd gotten responses from nearly everywhere I applied. But I don't want to work right now, plus I'm not really sure if I want to go back into clinical social work. At least not in Georgia. The red tape and bureaucracy is just too much.

I got a new car to replace the one that was totaled in December. It's an SUV and I love it. It's great for allowing me to have those long, mindless drives that I'm having lately. Plenty of mountain driving on the horizon. I found a cute little downtown area to hang at in my area. I like it because no one here knows me. I don't have any friends here and I like it that way. I just want to be alone.

I can't help but to compare my grieving of my cousin to that of my grieving of Pete and Andrea. I realize that with Pete, I felt lost because it seemed like there was so much more that we had to do. We were supposed to spend more time, and he was supposed to answer the questions I had about him. Andrea and I'd had plans, but her loss hit different because she was the closest female friend who was willing and able to join me in all of my weirdness. In our very short time together, she was an absolute rider. My time was short with both Pete and Andrea. But I'd known Ali my whole life. I've never been without an Ali until now, and I really don't know how to do this.

Coincidentally, Pete died March 5th. Last year was the first year that the anniversary of his death came around and I was not an absolute mess. I was happy about that. And then Andrea died, the day after his anniversary. And the year before that was the death of my Aunt Sister. She died in February, right by Ali's birthday, which also doubled as the day of his funeral. 2.22.22.

I remember how when Pete died that March, I spent a lot of time outside, taking in the springtime weather. I recall the smell of freshly cut grass and flowers and pollen. That smell came to symbolize my time of grieving him. And then, 2 years later, my Aunt Sister died. And then Andrea. And now Ali.

All of them died between a late January and an early March. So within a small window of about a month and a half, I've lost 4 people that I loved, 3 of which I saw and engaged with regularly over 5 years. Spring used to be my favorite season. Watching people slowly emerge after a long winter, especially since the mess known as Covid was a thing. But now spring seems to be my season of grieving. I spend these warm days just wishing my loved ones were around me. It just doesn't seem fair. 

As a Buddhist, I don't really subscribe to the idea of "fair" and "unfair" because the fact is that life will throw you a kick in the teeth. Ali went into hospice the day before his son's 13th birthday and was dying the following day, on his anniversary. His youngest son was 2 years old. I don't really wanna hear shit about fairness.

In the meantime, I have decided that with my free time, I'm going to finish this book once and for all. I'm working on a book about spirituality and I want to write about some other things I have experienced as well. I'm thankful for the time. I'm currently in a coffeehouse and since I picked this back up, I've added nearly 3.5k words. I'm almost done. Just gotta add more to it. I'd rather have my cousin than to finish this book though. Unfortunately, I don't have that as a choice. Ali is gone.

Working in Addiction: Take Two in 2022

After my last job working in addiction, I absolutely swore to myself that I'd never jump down this rabbit hole again, but alas, here I am. I took this job to get out of the nightmare of a company I worked at before. But I've come to love it already, only a few weeks in. My clients challenge me, but in a good way. 

The job that I previously had in substance abuse grew me a lot. I'll be honest and admit that there are things I dropped the bag on. But that does not take away from the toxic environment that I was in. I literally cried in my car the day before my last day there. And 2021 being the whirlwind that it was, I'm back.

Coincidentally, I'd applied for quite a few jobs, and got responses from most of them wanting me to interview. It came down to this job and a job at a methadone clinic that was closer to home. I initially wanted the methadone clinic and it looked like they were leaning toward me too, but they had some last minute staffing changes and literally forgot about me. I'm glad to be at my current company though. My current supervisor is amazing and my clients are a bit more functional here (as functional as you can be for an addict, at least) and the supervisors aren't all practically blood-related, the way they were at my last treatment facility. Knowing what I know now, it makes a world of difference.

Overall, I'm feeling good this year. I feel energized. The last shit year I had before 2021 was 2017 and I remember how by the end of 2017, I just wanted it all to be over. And how excited I was for 2018 and how once 2018 hit, I was like a phoenix, shooting up into the air, ready to make the world my bitch, and I did! I started a job I liked and grew a lot from, made new friends, traveled, got to know me more. 2018 was a good year, followed by 2019 and 2020, in spite of the latter bringing essentially the apocalypse. 

2021 was a doozy on all fronts, and was quite possibly the longest decade of my life. 2021 was LONG. It was painful. It started out fairly well, but the job started to fall to shit, then Andrea died, and shit just snowballed. I moved to Cali, which was cool, in spite of moving back. But it taught me what I needed to know about L.A., so when I move back in 4 years, I'll know what to expect.

And of course, the elephant in the room, my actual boyfriend. Like most relationships, things started out warm and fuzzy. I was hesitant to get too hopeful too quick, because I knew that we were still in the honeymoon phase. Knowing what I learned about myself and codependency, I wanted to make sure that things were where and what I needed them to be before I fell head over heels for Theo.

And full disclosure, I wasn't too hopeful towards the end of 2021 that things would make it. I know he cares about me. A LOT. But my caution comes in because I want to make sure that he likes the actual me, not just the idea of me. It seems to happen a lot with men. I, Malika, am the perfect woman and then some, but the reality kicks in that I'm human. I'm a real woman with emotions and feelings and expectations and wants and needs. Men have a tendency to meet me and think that I'm just the pretty walking vagina party girl, and the moment I expect honesty and connection, men look at me like I somehow tricked them. It's happened far more than I care to admit.

So anyway, things got rocky with Theo and I started to question if this was what and who I really wanted. I can say quite truthfully that I'm not afraid to be alone. I'm not afraid to be single. Sometimes I fear that getting into a relationship can derail my plans to live my life to the fullest, so I'm not really itching to move back into combining my life with that of another person.

I laid my cards on the table with Theo and demanded that he do something that I needed for us to remain together, because I was absolutely done. I give a lot of my business here as it, so I won't say what I needed from him (to protect his privacy), but I will say that he was immediately willing to give it when a lot of men wouldn't (and some didn't).

Since then, things have been absolutely smooth sailing with us. We spoke today and he said that he realized that if he wants to stay with me, he had to change some things about himself and accept what I need from him. I admitted to him that I realized (just today) that I have a dominant personality. He told me that he'd realized that already, but that it isn't a bad thing.

So things are continuing to sail along. And that's not a bad thing. Here we are. In 2022. A new year, a new space.

Prepping

So things are... things. I'll be up front and admit that 2021 has been a raging kick in the ass. Early on, Andrea died. My job went to shit. Moved to Cali and came right back with a lack of housing. Was homeless for a spell before I landed another apartment in the sticks, and another job I'm not too keen on.

On top of all the other "wonderful" things, I was in another car wreck a few weeks ago. Yet another concussion, and I'm stuttering again. Back pain, awkward, painful walking, the works. I'm just over it all. I'm waiting for 2022 to kick into high gear. I can't wait to get back to writing my book, and I decided that in January, I'm going vegan. I mean, just for a month, but still. Plus I'm planning to hit the gym starting on Dec. 28, when I start my new job.

Plus I'm going to get money from my car being totaled out. I was out today, a few days before Christmas, looking for things for my home. I'll be honest and admit that a lot of my stuff in California, still in storage. Naturally, it's costing me an arm and a leg, but I can't get back to it until March, when I pick up my items and drive them back here. So I'm sleeping on an air mattress until my funds are up and I can make this feel like home again. 

The last time that I was at a Goodwill, I found a funky little tv stand, that now sits in my bedroom. And today I wandered in to the same Goodwill, and this time I found an amazing, colorful dresser. Large enough to hold my unmentionables, so that I can take them out of the plastic bin that's been filling over with their presence. My son managed to bring the dresser in and as I began moving things around, out of my bin and into my new dresser, the Sex and the City spin off "And Just Like That" played in the background. I didn't watch the show much in my 20's and a bit in my 30's. While I didn't watch the whole thing from front to back, I'm overall aware of the story, followed up by watching the movies several times.

It's no secret now that the character of Big has died, and Carrie is now older, set off to live life as a newly widowed woman. It felt so familiar, as I slid the dresser into place, and began moving things around, complimented by a lit candle. I'm getting ready for a new year and new changes. Veganism, back on my steps, a new job, Theo is here. I'll have to take it easy, as my back is barely held together by duct tape as this rate.

And later in my ceremonious moving around of items, I caught up on Insecure. I like the show. Like so many other people, it greatly inspired my move to Cali. I've made peace with being stuck here until my baby is out of high school, but right now I have exactly 1,615 days until I can move back. Not that I'm counting down or anything.

It's ironic how much I clung to the idea of being in relationship, but some days, I miss being single. I don't miss the dating game, but I've realized how much I enjoy my own company. I love all of my travels, I loved my sordid affairs. I love my sense of adventure. I really am comfortable in my own skin. As I move things around, I feel myself getting ready for the new year. I'm closing out old client cases, and letting my brain and body heal, so that this upcoming week, I can step into my new job ready to take on the world. 

I don't know what's going to happen. But I know that things will be well. That's what I'm planning on, and that's what I'm manifesting. And that's what will happen.

Changes

So yeah, this boyfriend thing is taking some getting used to. The fact is that I've never had a man that so dedicated himself to me, but now that I'm in this, that means that I have to be dedicated as well. Absolutely no cheating, and zero desire to look at other men. Theo is kind of the jealous type. He wants me to himself, which is alright by me. Because no man has ever done so much to earn me. But one thing I hadn't really thought about up until this point- my guy friends.

I've got a lot of them, and these are some tight relationships. We've broken bread, watched each others' children, given one another money, all of that. It isn't uncommon for me to tell my guy friends that I love them. One of my closest guy friends is someone I used to stay at his house late at night, talking, even while I was in a "relationship" with my son's father. Now that I'm with Theo, it has occurred to me that I can't keep up that kind of stuff. One of my close guy friends told me that he's already stopped calling me late at night, which I guess is good, because I know Theo wouldn't appreciate that. But that was something he did often before, as a truck driver. 

It sucks, because I've always been the woman who said that no matter what, I'd never give up my guy friends. And I still won't. But I'll admit, I gotta scale back. Theo and I are talking about what kind of couch to get for the living room. I want a sectional, and he wants a recliner in it. It's all so "adult." I always wanted that. I just imagine his feet up, watching the game, with his arm around me and I lean on him, reading. #Domesticated

It's going to suck not being able to show affection to some of my guy friends. But Theo wants me loving and loving on him, as the primary man in my life (outside of my son). I was kind of apprehensive about how willing I was to give up that side of myself. But I had a conversation with my cousin and his wife. My cousin, Ali, actually reminds me a lot of Theo. Both are very alpha male, and care deeply for their women and families. I asked Ali's wife if she had to scale back her relationships with platonic male friends when she got with my cousin, and she admitted, that yes, that was something. she had to do. I've also heard other married friends admit that when they got married, they scaled back their friendships with members of the opposite sex. And those that did have the happiest and strongest marriages. That's when I knew what I had to do. 

Another change is that Theo is a clothes horse. So. Many. Shoes. He prides himself on looking good, and he wants his woman looking good with him. As I mentioned, he'd gotten my nails done, but that same day, he bought me a Coach purse, and some new sneakers from the Finish Line. I tried to decline, but he insisted. So now, here I am, looking like a million dollars, with a man who makes me feel like a billion.

Another thing that Theo has been working on changing is how I view myself. He recently told me that he recently made a major life change based on me being around and my mouth dropped. "You did that for me?!" I asked. I couldn't believe that he wanted me so bad after our first date, and he was already making decisions about us. I told him that I couldn't believe it and his statement was a simple "stop being so hard on yourself." Truthfully, had I known, I would have tried to talk him out of it. I would have said that I wasn't worth it. But clearly, he thought that I was. I have a bad habit of "jokingly" talking negatively about myself. It isn't uncommon for me to verbalize "My dumbass did..." and he'll immediately stop me and say "I don't like when you talk like that, don't say that." My self talk is already more positive. 

I adore Theo. I trust him. So if I have to give less bear hugs to guy friends and not be so free throwing around words like "I love you," I'll do it. Because I'm loving this ride with him, and he makes me feel secure. That's what a man is supposed to do. And my man does that.

Malika As A Girlfriend

I'm thankful for Theo. I guess that's a great way to start this post, since today (the day I wrote this) is actually Thanksgiving. I'll be honest and say that parts of this are challenging. Theo and I are pretty different. He's way more committal than me, which is a pretty good thing, because one of us needs to be.

I've also had to grow with him physically. Like I'm really having to get used to having him in my presence as my actual boyfriend. I like it though. I feel protected and safe with him. The other morning I pulled out my ice scraper to take the ice off of my windshield, and he took the scraper from me and told me to get in the car. After he was done with the ice scraper, he got back in the car and reminded me that having a man in my life means that I don't have to do tasks like that. Another time, after we finished grocery shopping, he told me not to touch the bags and allow him and my son to bring the groceries in.

That's the stuff that makes me adore him and be glad he's in my life. There's other stuff though that I struggle with. I don't consider myself an "independent woman" in so much, an "independent person." I haven't had a serious boyfriend really since my son's father. Sure there were were a few men I'd committed to for a while, but nothing with any real teeth, although I did love and care about those men. 

But now that I'm learning to be in something serious, I have to learn to exist in this. Being a part of a couple. Introducing him as "my boyfriend." I've been made to feel bad for asking men for anything, but he really wants me to ask for stuff. And not so he can hold it against me. As I get ready to hang out with my family for the holiday, he gave me a few bucks to get my nails done. And it isn't about the money. I had to have a discussion with myself about Love Languages and I realized that his is gifts. Mine is acts of service and words of affirmation. So he's not trying to buy me. He's showing me that he cares in his own way. I'm enamored. 

I'm also having to be more mindful of how I carry myself with my guy friends. I had a question for him about sexual preferences and ideas. I asked him and he refused to answer. I reminded him that he'd consider it disrespectful if I asked any of my previous love conquests about bedroom antics, so I opted instead to ask him. 

I've always been a woman to swear that I'd never get rid of anyone! My friends are my friends til the end! But Theo has given me something to think about. He's not like the other men that wanted all of me and put nothing into a relationship. Theo puts his money where his mouth is. He adores me and he tells me. We go on dates. I tell him what I want and need and he delivers. And he tells me what he wants and needs and I'm front and center. I hope things continue to go well between us. I like me, I like him, and I like me and him together. I'm a girlfriend. I'm his girlfriend.

New and Old

So this thing with Theo is new, but it's exciting. Its adventurous. It's warm. I've never been so excited to get to know a man. Sometimes I have to check myself and remind myself that in this adult world of dating, we put our partner or our budding relationship before other stuff. I'm learning to consider myself a retired hot girl, rather than the fanciful Malika we've all come to know and love. Lord lol. 

When I'd first returned to Atlanta in early August, to define things as a struggle would be an understatement. When I wasn't sleeping in shitty hotels, I was sleeping on my friend's floor (which I'm eternally grateful for). I was working as a pool monitor, a job I lucked up on as my friend was president of his HOA. But as time went on, I landed a pretty nice 2 bedroom townhouse in addition to a job in my field. Outside of lacking the plentiful furniture I once had, I once again, landed on my feet.

My new job was a stretch at first, but as time went on, I grew to enjoy it. Among my first days at the job, I encountered a guy I'll call Tim. As I was trying hard to just keep my nose clean and pay my rent, I ignored my attraction to Tim. We instinctively began trading insults during our first meeting and I admit, I was smitten early on.

But then Theo came in as the whirlwind that he is, and any remote thoughts I had of Tim were stamped out. Theo did something no man ever did. He staked his claim. He knew he wanted me, he told me and he showed me. I'd be a complete fool to even consider anyone other than Theo. But Tim and I maintained our friendship, but I've made sure to let Tim know where he stands. Theo is bae. He's boo. He's number one, period. Tim is just my friend and that's all he will ever be.

Today, Tim confessed his feelings for me, but stated that he knows how I feel about Theo and that he absolutely wouldn't try to cross any boundaries. But he admitted, that he couldn't put his finger on it. Exactly what it is that he's so drawn to. It ain't just looks. And I know what it is. I just didn't think it would be a good idea to answer.

The fact is that Tim is a strong representative of who and where I once was- fearful of commitment, unfamiliar with healthy affection, cozying up to fly by night attachment in its place. I wanted to explain it to him, but I feared that doing so would only create a bond that I don't want to create. It isn't that I don't like Tim. I think he's great. But he's a representative of the old me. The confused me. The fly by night me. And I'm no longer giving her air. She needs to die. 

As I learn to embrace healthy living and being, I have to abandon habits and situations that don't serve me. Tim is dope af and I wish nothing but the best for him. And I hope he finds what he's looking for. Because he's not looking for Malika. He just thought he was.