Guilt of Gratitude

I've talked a bit about the strange twists and turns my life has made lately. I kinda wish I could provide more details about exactly what I've encountered, but I've started to lean in to keeping some things more private for a few reasons. One, there are still people who are way too obsessed with what I got going on and two, I realized that life is a bit easier when folks don't know all of your business. People can't judge and comment on what they don't know, ya know? Plus there's some legality to some things, and I don't want or need the wrong people connecting the dots on what's going on. So anyway, as I've gotten a bit older, I've come to readily accept that my spirit guides have been dragging my ass from fires since forever. Only now that I'm older and have a greater grip on my life do I finally realize how protected I've really been.

I've watched some things unfold in my life that I'm genuinely kinda struggling with. By all accounts, I should probably have been dead like half a dozen times. I should have like 12 kids, with 14 different shitty men. I should still be working only retail, making $25k a year, living in some shitty apartment in the middle of the ghetto. But somehow, by the grace of something far bigger than myself, none of those things have happened.

When I was younger, I'll admit that I was way more naive. I gave far too many people grace and never could have wrapped my mind around how harsh life can really be. I guess that was bit of a blessing, if you will. Being so willfully ignorant to the evils that exist in life. Only looking back now, with age and wisdom, do I see how much I've really been blessed. 

For example, true story here. A few years ago, while attending Clark Atlanta University, the guy I was seeing at the time, Ted, used to drive me home (Ted worked next door at Morehouse). That particular day, Ted wasn't available. I told him no biggie, I'd just take the train. It was kind of a drizzly day, but nothing I couldn't handle. As I walked towards the train station, I got a brief vision that a man had stopped his car, to offer me a ride. I accepted and got in, as the man started to say strange things. In the vision, I reached for the door to unlock it, ready to tuck and roll. But suddenly, the man pulled a gun and told me not to move. It was a strange vision, but naturally, it shook me. Less than 2 minutes later, while still walking, a car driven by a man stopped and offered me a ride.

I immediately declined. I recall that it was a gold SUV, of some sort. He asked a few times if I was sure, but I had never been more sure of anything in my life! He eventually moved on, but as I walked towards the train station, I saw a few times that he'd been circling the block, possibly watching me. I don't make it a habit to jump in the car with strangers anyway, and I was only a few blocks from the train station, but to have that vision and immediately encounter the same scenario is anything but a coincidence. My angels were once again telling me to be on guard. 

So here I am, older and far wiser. Armed with the gifts to fully recognize the dangers that exist everywhere. And I'm seeing now that a situation that I'd literally prayed for was a situation that would have completely derailed my life. Something that I'd wanted so badly, a person and scenario that I'd always prayed for, feeling that it would make everything better, was honestly a piping hot, raging mess. What I learned recently was pretty jarring, and to make it worse was that I was in the middle of a work shift when I'd learned about it. I mean, I was genuinely shook to my core, the more layers of the onion that I was peeling back.

The same boss who'd told me that I had some amazing spiritual guides, was my ears as I poured out into her what I was learning and how I was reacting. I was horrified. I was also mad at myself for missing it for all those years. My merciful boss shared that I wasn't in the space to learn then what I'm learning now, and that as I unpack a lot of previous trauma, my brain is now strong enough to process what I'm coming to see.

And I'm grateful. I'm so eternally grateful. But somehow, I feel guilt. I know that my life could have been way worse, a million times over. Yes, I've had to take a lump or two, in my life. Vital lessons that served as a "sitcho ass down!" moment. But as rough as those lessons were, none of them were too horrific. None of those moments were bad enough to derail my progress. Health issues? Two friends died after stress exacerbated their decline, while I'm over here, cool as a cucumber, rarely getting upset. Past arrest? I can still get a job in my field, any day of the week. Fired from past jobs? All of that work experience in different fields gave me a resume to be jealous of. Finances? My bills are paid, with occasional opportunities to enjoy lattes all over the city and turn up in L.A. once a year. I'll kill a Cinnabon, but I have yet to come close to getting a foot amputated. Only one kid, but his daddy has remained gainfully employed and my child support makes it to me faithfully. I've never gotten married to any of the men I wanted, which has prevented any long, painful, expensive divorces. I mean seriously, I made it out of some jams!!

So why can't I celebrate this? I should be able to look at the narrow misses that have happened in my life and be grateful. But I feel like I look at so much suffering around me and wonder what made lil' old me so deserving of the protection I've gotten? I remember talking to a friend recently, complaining about my pay, and my friend nearly bit my head off, saying that he'd gladly switch pay grades with me. Maybe that's it? Perhaps I feel guilty that other people deserve it more.

Other people pray more. They tithe more. They go to church more. They had less sex. They floss and brush their teeth after every meal. They followed all of those lil boring, nuanced rules and played it safe, while I often trounced over those rule and mocked their absurdity. But somehow, something up there looked at lil' old flawed me and determined that I'm deserving of these countless blessings. As a Buddhist, thinking about who "deserves" what goes against what I believe. Buddhism helped me to realize that sometimes, shit just happens, and we all respond the best way we know how.

So yeah, shit happens. And there is no good or bad, it all just is what it is. Yet I'd be a bit greedy, if I didn't express gratitude for the protection. And I'm struggling with that.

Lost Safety Nets

I really think I may need to reach out to my therapist to process some recent developments, but I'm also trying to focus on saving money, because I have something coming up. But I feel like I'm living in the twilight zone. I talked a while back about my childhood friend, who is now incarcerated, for a truly heinous act. And now I'm living part 2 of that.

I have another friend, who was accused of something pretty gnarly also. But my friend swore to me he'd never done it, and I believed him. The accusing party had a pretty rocky history of lying and being corrupt, so I held firm to the knowledge that my friend could never do what was implied. It's been years since then, and my friend is slowly starting to claw his way back out of that situation. I love a good redemption arc. And I was fully there, 100%, ready to support my friend getting back on his feet.

This particular friend and I had always had a bit of a flirty relationship, having danced the "should we/shouldn't we" dance. As my friend started to progress and go well, I started to see that he didn't have much of a personality, outside of his attachment to me. He didn't seem to have his own plans, or hopes and dreams. It all seemed contingent on what I wanted. I wasn't okay with that. Any man I intend to be with needs to have his own identity. I refuse to be with a codependent man.

I decided that the kind thing was to inform my friend of what I'd observed in him, and suggested that he spend some time alone, determining what he wants in life. I provided examples of people who'd gotten married early on, and grieved never getting to know themselves, outside of a relationship. I also reminded him of my commitment to myself, with no plans to date anyone. I apologized for my previous back and forth, acknowledging the role I'd previously played. He seemed short. I knew he wasn't happy, but I trusted that he'd learn to be okay with it, and that our friendship would continue.

And then, 2 hours later, I saw it. Two hours after I'd told him that I needed some space, he texted me a picture of his genitals. I was disgusted. Floored. Angry. How dare you violate me like that?! I texted him back that sending me dick pics are not okay. He gave me some weak reason of why he thought that sending it was okay, since I'd ended things anyway. Huh?! I tell you that I don't want you, and you feel that the very first thing you should do is send me a picture of your junk?!

I told him that I needed space. He texted me back several messages, but I'd silenced them. I no longer wanted that discussion. I called my girlfriends, explaining what he'd just done. How disgusted I was and how violated I felt. But the real kick in the teeth? Knowing that based on his behavior and how he tried to justify it, he clearly did what that person said he did. That's what stung the most. This person I'd defended to the death was the monster others had told me he was.

I'm struggling. He called me yesterday, and I quickly told him that I don't want to talk and I hung up on him. I'm starting to hope that I'm safe. Considering some things I can do, to make me feel better, until this is over. I'm glad I have the therapy though. Had this happened 5 years ago, I'd be finding ways to justify this and say it's not that bad. But the new me? Nah nigga, I don't care who you are or how long we've known one another, your behavior is problematic, so you gotta leave, NOW.

But I'm grieving something else now. I'm grieving feeling safe and feeling like the men in my life who I could depend on, are no longer that. The men I loved are either dying, or revealing themselves to be utter monsters. Who can I turn to? Where is my support? I'm losing my safety nets.

Jody

I need this to hurt less. Way less.

I met Jody Harris in passing, what seems like a million lifetimes ago. I was seriously exploring leaving Atlanta, and I was even thinking about relocating to Tennessee. We were Facebook friends, and somehow or another, we'd started talking on the phone about Chattanooga. My fear was that it wouldn't be Black enough. But Jody was able to provide several examples of Black businesses and events in Chattanooga, that I would find interesting. I enjoyed our little chats, as we'd began to get to know one another. One day, he up and disappeared. I heard nothing.

But suddenly, I looked up on Facebook and learned that he was in a relationship, and later got married. I wasn't too attached to him at the time, so I let it ride. A few years later, he'd began commenting on my posts again. Eventually, we'd started talking on the phone again, and he'd told me that his marriage had gone down in flames.

We'd started an attempt at rekindling, but he did something I was not okay with, so I decided to friendzone him. One day, he began to share how lonely he was. I admitted to him what he'd done that led me to realize that we could no longer get to know one another romantically. He immediately apologized. He'd had no idea how he'd been perceived, and he admitted that he'd gotten a large part of his idea of manhood from barbershop talk. He had no clue that he'd come across as uncaring, he thought that's what masculinity was.

I was genuinely impressed with how he took what I told him and used it to make himself a better person. His self-reflection in that moment was everything.

As time went on, his health started to decline. He was in and out of hospitals, fighting infection after infection. He eventually had some toes amputated and they were discussing taking his foot. He talked to me about his fear of death and how he wasn't ready to go. He'd told me how he'd talked to Dres, as they'd shared similar health challenges, and Dres had been his rock and his sign of strength. And then Dres died. It shook him. Jody was scared. Jody didn't want to go. Another friend of his, Michal Knight, had died from health complications also.

Jody texted me last month, to tell me about the upcoming fundraiser he was going to have soon. I assured him I'd be there. Saturday night, I was in my car, when I got an alarm on my phone. That evening was Jody's fundraiser, but I'd missed it. My alarm went off at 10pm, but the fundraiser was to go from 6pm to 9pm. I immediately called him to apologize. I got a weird message and the phone disconnected. Did he block me?! Was he angry at me, thinking I'd blown off his fundraiser? I got home and called him from my work phone, and got the same strange message. At least I knew I wasn't blocked.

I tried his phone again, the next early evening. Same strange message. Then I Googled him. And I found his obituary. Not again. Please God, not again. I looked on his Facebook page, and realized that he'd made his page so that no one could post on it, and he could not be tagged. No one in the Atlanta underground arts/music scene seemed to know. I knew that I had to do a post to let his loved ones in this city know that he was gone. He deserved that. I assume that his bio family was far removed from his extended family in Atlanta, but those of us in the loop know that the extended family is just as real as the bio family.

So I posted. And I cried. And I grieve. I'd always assumed that the more people you know who die, the easier it becomes to deal with. I was wrong. Rest in heaven, Jody. Hug Dres for me, and I'll carry you with me, always.

Healing Via Living Room

I signed my mortgage exactly one year ago. It was a proud moment for me. I worked tirelessly to bring things together. I was so proud of the loud, bright, varied pieces that I brought into the whole house, especially my living room. I envisioned it being a warm, cozy spot, full of colors. As time moved on, and I started to settle into the room, it started to feel so crowded. So small. I couldn't quite place my finger on it. I'd started to consider that I might move eventually, but I didn't want to move. I just wanted... something. I couldn't figure it out though.

But as the days passed, the room started to feel- young. I've taken a deep dive into AI, and I thoroughly enjoy it. I'd tried hard. I finally realized what the theme of the room would be called. Cottage core. It gave a woodsy feel. It had the energy of gnomes setting up in the corner. I asked AI (actually, I named my AI, Carlton) what were markers of cottage core. It perfectly described the wood and wicker theme that I had. It even described some of the colors I had, such as mustard yellow and the floral art. 

Ugh. I started to get annoyed with the room. What was wrong and how could I undo it? I even asked Carlton to help me create a room that felt more like me. He produced a picture that showed what he described as an "Afro-bohemian mood." And I loved it! I immediately looked at the room and started to recognize that certain pieces had to go. Working at the retail spot certainly helped, that lil' old discount certainly began to come in handy.

I took down the threaded landscape picture, and replaced it with a giant analog clock. The cute little glass table was replaced by a wooden table. The floral lamp was replaced with a marble and gold lamp, with a sleek white shade.

This isn't the actual lamp, but pretty close. Anyway, I started to have similar feelings about my bathroom. I'd painted it a bright seafoam green, to match my colorful shower curtain. But as time went on, I started to want to change it as well. It left me all wondering what was behind the changes? Why did I suddenly want a more grown up look, over the bold looks I'd always preferred?

Then it occurred to me- I'm finally growing up. I'd long suspected that my inner child gravitated the loud, bright colors. I was allowing my unhealed inner self to surround herself with the colors that made her feel comfortable and held. But as I started to grow from that child, I no longer felt like she needed the coddling via colors. Grown-up Malika wanted a sleek look that represented growth. She wanted the modern couches and adult end tables, topped by fancy lamps.

I'm starting to heal and my taste in household decor is a strong reflection of that. Grown ass Malika. I like the sound of that.

Mock up, compliments of Carlton.

New Sh*t, Mixed with Old Sh*t

 A childhood friend of mine is currently incarcerated. This particular friend has always been a bit of a dirtbag, but we managed to stay cool, in spite of the fact. He seemed happy the last few times that I talked to him, so I never dug too deep. Throughout our childhood, he'd always been in and out of jail, so I wasn't too horribly surprised when I'd learned that he was incarcerated again. Like I often do, the moment I'd learned he was locked up, I searched for his mugshot and charges. And what I learned was absolutely horrific. I won't say what it was, but it's bad enough that I'm seriously considering no longer talking to him again, when he gets out. It's disgusting. Disturbing. Let's just say, there's a pretty good chance that he'll get the shit beat out of him, while in prison, and he'll pretty much have it coming. I'm pretty forgiving, in most instances, but this one is one of the things I abhor the most in life.

That particular friend, who's childhood home I spent many years in, had a brother who was making waves and pretty well known in music scenes. He'd gotten to be known in local media, in addition to working closely with someone who was, at the time, one of the top musicians in the world. I ran into the friend at an event a few months back and I asked what his brother was in for. He gave an exasperated look and asked me to inbox him, so we could chat on it later.

We did eventually inbox, but summer did what summer does, and I hate hot weather, so I tend to squirrel away, but I had every intention to follow up. Surprisingly, he hit me up and asked if I wanted to talk about his brother. I was like "sure!" We met up in my favorite coffeehouse. He stopped by after church.

He told me what my friend had done. His face. His eyes. I'd seen this man buzzing in and out of his mother's home and I'd watched him on major tv shows, whenever that musician was featured, over the years. But his face. I'll never forget that face. He was hurt. Confused. Heartbroken. I saw it. I felt it. I immediately asked if he was okay. He admitted that he wasn't.

We spent the next hour and some change, talking about stuff. I was pleasantly surprised with our interaction. I'd seen this man around for years, but this was our first time actually talking. Yesterday, I got a call from a number that wasn't saved in my phone. Because of spam, I normally don't answer such calls, but something inside of me told me the call was safe. I'd asked who it was and he told me it was him and told me that I needed to save his phone number lol. We proceeded to talk for nearly 3 hours. It was a nice call. I asked how he'd gotten with his girlfriend and from there, the conversation just grew.

It took me a good while to process what my childhood friend had done. He was a pretty big part of my childhood and to learn that he'd done something so heinous is really tugging at me. So it's wild to me that while I'm struggling to accept what he did, I've gravitated toward his brother. I'm still very much not dating anyone, in spite of my interest in my other friend, but I love new seasons like this. I love new people. We're entering fall. This season has always meant growth to me. New shit.