Fucking Around and Finding Out

The way that Fred and I hooked up the second time around is kind of interesting. It was my 30th birthday and I'd had a gathering for friends. My son's father opted to miss my party, but Fred didn't. My girlfriends had no clue that Fred and I had a past, they just saw him putting on the moves. He'd flirted with me heavily that night and my friends couldn't help but to notice how good looking he was. As the night wore on, I tried to ignore Fred's charms. 

I was about to go home when I called Fred and asked him if I could kiss him. He agreed. We met at a local high school and made out, before we went back to his home to finish the job. I can't help but to laugh at how my ex acting like an ass threw me back into the arms of my former lover, and now over 12 years later, we're still in one another's lives.

And I love Fred. I always will. But life is changing. After Theo, I decided that I needed a break from dating and men. I was and am just over the game. I stopped having casual sex because I got sick of getting the lower end of the deal. I decided to hold out for proper time together before I even entertained a date. And anytime a guy even joked about sex before I was ready, I ghosted him.

Enter Jonathon. I'd first met Jon about 10 years ago. We met online, as he was the brother of one of my favorite singers, a Grammy nominated, internationally recognized, international star. At the time, his son was roughly my son's current age. My son was about 4. Jon didn't want more kids, but my youngster was still young and I was holding out hope that I'd eventually have another child or 2 more and get married. I was hoping for that white picket fence life that has continued to elude me. Meanwhile, I dated others, as did he. We stayed in touch and occasionally flirted, but our timing was always off.

Since then, my son is high school aged, and Jon's son is now a father, making Jon a grandfather. Jon and I got together recently after I was done with Theo and Jon happened to call on the right day. I mean, the best way to get over one man is to get under another, right? We got it in, during a moment of passion, but something happened. Jon stayed around.

I don't have casual sex anymore, and Jon has been consistent. When I demanded a date before anymore nookie, he showed up. When he can't show up because of work obligations, he lets me know ahead of time and he actually apologizes. He calls and asks how I'm doing in the middle of the day. He cooks me dinner and prepares a proper cocktail when I visit his home. We text one another to talk shit. We talk about careers. We play Words with Friends. I showed my cousin a picture of Fred and then showed him a pic of Jon. My cousin pointed out that Jon looks like a grown man compared to Fred. I don't think I've ever really dated one of them. I mean, he's in his early 50's, but it's not just his age. He's got real grown ass man swag. He's got a decent job, good credit, head full of grey hair, and he's traveled the world. And I didn't expect to like him, but it's going that way. 

I was at his home recently and what surprised me was how he grabbed me and kissed me passionately. I haven't been kissed like that in eons. He gave me shit for stealing the blankets. I always get so excited about men, so I'm trying hard to just take it easy. But I like Jon a lot. I've even been playing Jon's brother's music more, as it reminds me of him, particularly one song that's about togetherness. If I see his brother performing around soon, I'm hoping we can stop in to catch the performance. Funny enough, his bro's performance is where we first met in person after chatting online.

And because my life isn't difficult enough, Fred is on his way into town tonight. My friend asked me the other day if I'd still hook up with Fred if I was in a serious relationship. And I quickly said no. I love Fred. And again, I always will. But he has shown me consistently that we will never be anything permanent. And although a couple of years ago I was willing to sabotage any relationship to keep Fred in my life, that is no longer the case. Fred has had all of me for years, but only wanted part of me. It's time to find a man who wants all of me to himself, not just this back and forth shit we've been keeping up for years.

My standards have changed and being modelesque and having a long history with me is no longer enough. Men are going to see that I'm not sticking around in a relationship or situation that isn't fully what I want. I will absolutely leave, unapologetically and only align myself sexually with men that are worthy of my time and attention. I'm seeking something secure. Something loving. Something long-lasting. Not sure if Jon will be it. But he's a nice start.

Orange Noise Cycles

I just reread my last post. Wild how things cycle out in life. Something told me to contact my mentee lately. She'd asked me to borrow a few bucks a while back, and didn't go into much detail when I asked how things had gone with her job at the time. I called her this weekend and asked for an update.

She basically explained that she was just a single course shy of obtaining her master's after a hardship. She admitted that she felt helpless and felt like giving up. And for an hour and a half, I laid into her, explaining that sometimes shit just happens and we go through cycles, and you just gotta hold your head and keep plugging through, until you make it to the other side. 

I told her about a lot of the hardship I'd endured for the last year and a half, and I was honest about wanting to jump into a freaking hole more than once. She asked how I'd made it out. I told her quite truthfully, that what helped me was just recognizing that when we hit a low part in the cycle, we just keep plugging away until we reach the high point again. And while we're in a high point, we constantly try to find ways to prepare for another low point while we appreciate being on the upswing of the cycle.

I told her about losing Andrea, my cousin and uncle, and how I worked at not one, but THREE toxic ass jobs before I found one that I'm happy with. People really underestimate how shady people in social work can be. I told her that once she finishes her degree in social work (she followed in my footsteps, after I inspired her!! SWOON!), she can get her degree and write her own ticket. I told her that I took my horrible job experiences, and used them to make my boss ass resume that makes me employable damned near anywhere I want. I mean, if that ain't a success story, what is?

After we got off the phone, I decided to go on and meet her and treat her for pizza. My mentee read my book and I proudly showed her my new business logo. She loved both. While together, she disclosed a few things at her job site that didn't sound right, so I messaged my old intern supervisor, who happens to work with her questionable coworker. What can I say? Social work is a pretty small world, in spite of being toxic af. I decided not to go through my intern supervisor, although he and I did make plans to hang out next week. Instead, I'll go to the head of training from that intern site, to report the behavior I saw. 

Afterwards, my mentee thanked me tremendously. When we parted, I thanked her. Turns out, I needed our meeting as much as she did. The kick in the ass that I gave her reminded me of exactly how far I've come and how much I've gone through to get where I am and how proud I am of myself.

Anyway, last night I found myself stumbling onto an article about "brown noise" a variation of white noise, that is supposed to help people focus. I listened to the brown noise, and while not terrible, it was a bit harsh for me. I scrolled through "pink noise", "blue noise," and basically all frequencies of noise before I settled on "orange noise" which seemed to sit perfectly with me. Not too pitchy. Not too distracting or loud. Not too low. It was just right. I used it to meditate last night, and I even slept with it on. I reminds me of the sound of trees rustling on a windy day, or the sound of the ocean. It sounds like LIFE.

I walked into work today, recharged for the first time in seemingly forever. Not sure if it's my meds or what, but I've been so tired lately and barely able to hold my head up. I struggled last week to finish some notes I'd been behind on (because of course I was), which put me a tad behind on my current month's workload. But today, I finally walked in, ready and able to focus on the current stuff.

But before I walked in, I stopped at a patient's home to do an assessment of their loved one. I got there, and kept hearing the family say "was" regarding the patient. I wondered if she'd passed, but I kept it neutral, until it was confirmed. The person did, in fact, die the previous day. I wasn't going to let the family know that I didn't know (mad unprofessional!), instead I kept on, as if my meeting was planned for this reason. 

Coincidentally, this moment felt very familiar. The family had just felt the most tremendous loss of their lives, and they were processing, trying to figure out their next moves. The home was eerily quiet. It reminded me of the morning after Ali passed. How we all kind of just floated around weightlessly, trying to make sense of it all. Of course, being on the other side, I explained to the family that I know how they felt. I suggested that they turn off the phone (as you can imagine, you get a crazy amount of calls as the word spreads when a loved one has died), and I told them how I put up a Facebook post announcing my cousin's passing, and asked friends to excuse us for a moment while we decline phone calls in order to process, promising readers that contact will resume shortly. The family members agreed that social media post explaining their absence in the meantime would have to suffice. Once again, my loss allowed me to help others.

I got back to the office and my coworker and I had a good laugh about my having to pretend that I knew that the patient's loved one died the previous day. Throughout the rest of the afternoon, my coworkers and I discussed a difficult patient and other things, as I tried to set up my schedule for the following day. I finally got around to calling a patient I hadn't seen in over a month. In spite of not seeing him, I'd gotten updates on this patient family from nurses I work with. I called the patient's spouse and asked if I could stop in the following day. The spouse informed me that the patient wasn't looking so good, and they were unsure if the patient would be around much longer. In my mind, I felt that the spouse was probably just being paranoid, but I still encouraged them to reach out to a nurse if they felt that the patient was declining. The spouse said that the nurse had been contacted, and actually arrived shortly after we got on the phone.

I penciled in that patient, making a note to stop in the following day, sure they'd still be alive. An hour later, we got word that the patient did, in fact, die. And I don't know why that moved me, but it did. I was sure that the patient was alive. I mean, sure the spouse said that it didn't look like the patient would make it, but that wasn't right, right?!

I've had so many patients die lately. Don't get me wrong, I know that this is the game. They literally come to us to die. My patient's daughter early in the day told me that my organization came highly recommended from the hospital social worker, and that meant a lot to me. To be part of a team widely recognized for professionalism and comfort during the worst times in people's lives. There is no doubt in my mind that I am exactly where I am supposed to be. But just- I dunno. So many deaths. So many times where I barely get to say hello, and before I look up, they're gone.

It's not just about dead bodies either. I mean, yeah, depending on what's going on, dead bodies can be part of it. Matter of fact, I asked my coworker to allow me to be near a dead body so that I could get more comfortable with the idea. And minutes later, I was in the room with family members, who tearfully told their loved one goodbye. I seriously sat in a room with a dead body, and I didn't collapse. That was my first (and only) time since Ali passed that I'd just been casually sitting around a dead body.

Coincidentally, I'm even currently watching Bojack Horseman, and one of my favorite episodes, one that features a dream sequence with all of the characters that died on the show. Tonight will definitely be an orange noise kind of night. So many cycles.

42+

I made it! I'm finally 42. Not like I was particularly waiting for this age. But I feel like I made it somehow. Like I succeeded against so many things meant for me to fail. My son and I are closer than ever, ironically, as I allow him to grow into his own person. I can't help but to marvel at how absolutely amazing he is. He's good-looking, charming, empathetic, and so intelligent, it's almost scary.

I got back from my uncle's service in Denver. I was once again warmly embraced by the beautiful city surrounded by huge mountains. The current mayor of Denver was in attendance, in addition to the former governor of Colorado. I found myself getting emotional at the end of the evening as people shared their favorite memories of my uncle. I realized that with the passing of both my uncle and my cousin, I feel like I lost my family. I lost my home. I missed being in a place where I was surrounded by love and comfort. That's what they brought into my life. And it's gone now.

One another note, I'm slowly rebuilding things with my mother. I dunno. I guess... 

Otherwise, things are good. I absolutely love my hospice job, to the point where I declined the social work position for Dekalb County. I'm too old to be fighting against the system. I just wanna sit my ass down and travel and love on my favorite people. The Malika who tried to solve everyone's problems is dead in the water, and she's okay with that. She's now the Malika who is focused on retirement.

Speaking of retirement, an old job that I'd applied for recently reached out to me. I didn't even expect this one, I'd totally forgotten about it. But a friend of mine has this position, and apparently, the last training class got caught up in some shit and everyone got cleared out. Sucks for them, but I'll damned sure step up for this. I was just telling my friend how a few years ago, I would not have had the clarity and discipline to work this job. But now, I get it. I finally fucking get it. Go into this job, and keep my fucking nose clean. It would allow me to transfer to other offices nationally, especially back to California or Denver in a few years. Plus it pays well. PLUS it is the goose that lays the golden eggs, a freaking pension. Lawd, my ship done come in!

Previously, when I thought about retirement, I basically told my best friend that my plan was to live in her home Golden Girls style. She said that she's okay with that. And I don't know, I might just still live that way. But having the beauty of a monthly stipend, rather than depending on one lump sum in retirement is all I can imagine. Twenty more years, and I can do it! Plus, I can possibly move to another country, if I so choose. And with this bullshit going on right now, that is certainly an option.

If I go to this new job, I'll take a short trip to Cali one last time. I want to spend some time with Fred and by the beach before the fall sets in. Speaking of Fred, he lost his mother just under a week ago. He's holding up about as well as I'd expect. He doesn't speak about his mother often, but I know that he adores her. And now this. He's currently in Alabama with his family. I asked when he plans to return to L.A. He's not worried about it. I'm kind of proud of him actually. He chose to be with his family during this crucial time, and said "I'll figure it out." I absolutely love the shift that society is coming to. I'm here for it. And I'm here for Fred. Truth be told, depending on when I get hit up for this new job, if things align well, I'd be willing to drive him back to L.A. I keep swearing Fred off. But I love him.

Lord knows, if I met him today, he wouldn't stand a snowball's shot in hell with me. Although, he's still sexy as hell to me. I guess he's just meant to be there at this point. 15 years, plus. And I'm glad he's here. Not trying to take on another him though. Although, truth be told, I kind of have another "Fred." I've written about him a few times here. He's sexy af like Fred, but unlike Fred, he's in my field and far more career driven. Truth be told, he's my former supervisor. He's been so instrumental in helping to shape me into the professional that I am today. I miss kissing him. Like Fred, we've had some going back and forth, but not nearly as much, although he has been a romantic partner for roughly 3 years. That's all I'll go into on him. I see so much magic in him, I'm always amazed that he's into me too. Our relationship is odd. But I love it. And I love him too.

To be fair though, when I see relationships that may be worth building, I always fall off of both men. But as nothing has panned out remotely well, I am blessed to have two extremely sexy men to spend quality time with and be romantically recharged. I can't find a single thing wrong with that! If I can't get the relationship I deserve, I'll unapologetically spend time with other men who deserve my time and presence.

Anyway, I finally see the light at the end of the tunnel. I have exactly FOUR years until I can finally pack up for good and get the hell on. And depending on how things shape up, it may be less than 4. Now if this new job works out well (and no doubt that it will), I'll be able to simply transfer. I'll have vacation days, sick days, yearly raises, cost of living increases, and a full on pension. My son knows that he'll be able to come with me. Now we just start to focus on looking at colleges for him.

So this is 42, huh? This is what it's like when your life isn't one dumpster fire or another? Weird. Kinda fucked to see so many people around me struggling in this fucked up society, but in the meantime, things are falling into place for me. I'll never forget my road here. So many bumps and bruises. But thank God, I'm here. I'm finally HERE!!

Goals

I learned a few years back that because of my ADHD, I have a limited capacity for caffeine. I actually like the taste of coffee, and I'm genuinely not addicted. I just like the taste. I don't drink it daily, despite having a coffeemaker at home. Anyway, I started drinking coffee at work (even decaf) and ended up with the sleepies again. I've found that the best way to get over this caffeine induced sleepy phase is basically to go completely caffeine free for a few days and allow my body to detox.

Because of this weird thing, I was up at 3am yesterday after going to sleep at 6pm the previous day. And now I'm up. Been up since 4am, after going to sleep at about 8pm last night. I'm glad to be up though. I enjoy the quiet of the morning. The birds chirping. My home is quiet. My mind fresh and sharp. I have an appointment with patients today. I may even go hit the gym before I meet with them.

I happened to get paid yesterday, and figured that with my extra waking hours, I'd pull out my budget and see how things are coming along. I was proud to see that a few bills are within a couple hundred bucks of being paid off completely. I did the math, and I owe roughly $5k in these bills. The goal has been to pay extra each month, with the intention of being done paying by the new year. I'm currently paying more on the smaller bills, with the plans of getting them eradicated so that I can work toward the larger bills. Once this $5k of loans and stuff is paid off, I plan to tackle this crazy car loan. I may even refinance. Ultimately, I'd like to have my car paid off in 4 years, so that by the time my son graduates high school, I will be completely debt free.

My birthday is in a week and half. I'm turning the big 42. Okay, there is no "big 42," it's just "42." I'm leaving for Denver next week for my uncle's funeral. My plan was originally to try to escape to the beach for a few days to celebrate, but I'm new at my job and didn't want to rock the boat. I hate having to say goodbye to my uncle, but the timing is perfect. My son and I fly in next week and will be there for 4 nights. I fly back the day before my birthday. I could have taken my birthday off, but I plan to "work from home" because I don't want to take another unpaid day. If one of my patients really needs me, I'll go out. Otherwise, I'll probably lounge at a nearby lake and only head out if I'm needed.

I'm really looking forward to this. Things are good. They're finally good. The first half of 2022 undeniably kicked my ass. Losing Ali was one thing, but losing his father too was just unreal. Plus leaving my other job. Although, the more I look back, the more I see how uncaring they were about the loss of my cousin. Not even a "take all the time you need" kind of speech. Like, I get it. I was new. But they didn't give a shit, they wanted me to show and prove. To not be a human. I wasn't allowed to have bad days. I was expected to call them almost daily while in the process watching of my own flesh and blood dying in front of me. I have zero regrets about opting to take care of myself and my cousin during that period. If given the chance, I'd have done things the exact same way.

Meanwhile, almost 2 weeks after I started this job, my uncle died. I was immediately given all kinds of support and even attend grief meetings with coworkers. They are cool about me attending a funeral out of town. If I need to cry, I cry, and that's okay. I guess that's what happens when you work in hospice. It's their actual job to be supportive. It's literally their nature. Moving back out west is always in the back of my mind, and I often think that I'd like to continue working in hospice, or quite possibly as a school counselor when that happens. But I'll always be so thankful for this position. It has given me back my sense of purpose and peace.

I recall a subreddit I was looking at, where someone described how the character Prezbo from The Wire struggled as a police officer, before finally finding the job that worked well for him, as a teacher. They said how basically, he tried to swim upstream as a cop, something he wasn't meant for, and finally found his flow as a teacher. While the writer was simply giving their interpretation, that interpretation always stuck with me because I felt like an utter failure when I walked away from that job.

Working in hospice has allowed me to find purpose. To be good at something. To finally be in a position where my compassion and empathy is finally rewarded, not looked down on and punished, as it has been so much in other positions. No cliques. No crazy ass gossip. Today I had to help my coworker meet with a new patient's husband, and the husband happens to be famous for a kidnapping that occurred several decades ago. And I was actually thanked by upper staff for helping.

So that's where things are. I have a job that I love. I have coworkers that appreciate me who I get along well with. My bills are being paid on time, and even early. I'm doing well on my new diabetes medication and I'm looking and feeling amazing. My future is finally looking bright and I'm here for it.

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.