From my heart to yours

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I believe in the magic of first kisses,

In the innocence of holding hands,

In the excitement of kissing until my breath is taken away.

I believe in the comfort of curling up in his arms after a long day,

In the joy of joy of listening to his heart beat through his chest,

In the bliss of realizing that he is mine.

I believe in fairytales;

Not the ones that Disney wrote.

I believe in my own.

In my fairytale he is my King, not simply my prince,

With his perfectly melanated skin,

His full lips,

His tangled curls,

His deeply smooth voice that intoxicates my soul.

He is my fairytale.

He is my dream.

I will give him my whole heart willingly.

Waiting on my King.

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I am an over-lover. I  use the word love like it was candy to be given out to any and everyone who is nice to me. My love is not always reserved for those who earn, it is often given freely and openly to all who I encounter. A guy I used to date called me a hippie and I wore that title proudly. I am a lover, never a fighter and that is not going to change anytime soon. In high school my over loving bit me in the ass. I gave my heart to the guy I “loved” because, you know, high school love. It was the most embarrassing situation I have ever been in. I gave my love to a guy who in return either degraded me or encouraged those who degraded me. I was left broken, rejected and hating myself. What I learned from that situation was that was not love.

The house I grew up in was complete with fake love. It was like a television show, false pretenses and declarations of love in front of others, a war and infidelity behind closed doors. It came as no surprise to me when my aunt and uncle divorced after witnessing this behavior for years. And of course, knowing how the relationship between my parents came to end made love seem dismal. Knowing that my mom gave years of herself, sacrificing and putting up with dumb shit from my dad, all in the name of love, only to get left for a  woman who could not compare, crushes me.

I’m saying all of this to say that I haven’t had the best examples of what love should look like. The only romantic love that I have given and received was of the tragic high school sort and did not end well for me. So when I was left figuring out my feelings for a man that I recently split from, I was confused. I don’t want to say that I love him, because that is a word that I am afraid to use now and because I’m not sure it was. But I do know that he is a man that I could have grown to love, but I’ll come back to this later.

I recently asked some people how they knew they were in love. I didn’t get some responses, mostly because the question was so heavy. But the ones I did get were insightful. What it came down to was you know when you put that person’s needs above your own. That person becomes a part of your life. And as we grow older and wiser, that love changes for each of us.

post-image

From Diary of a Mad Black Woman

The quote above is probably one of my favorite descriptions of love. It is beautiful and heartfelt.

723783aa4072e831254c1dfc93f16459I found the quote from Poussey floating around on twitter and thought it was a sweet example also.

Through all of my thinking and over thinking, what I have decided is that my love has grown immensely from high school. I have learned not to give it away completely without it being earned. I have a better understanding of what my love actually feels and looks like.

I asked myself again today if I loved him and I know the answer changed a lot. I loved being with him. I loved the way I felt when I was with him. I loved that he helped me feel confident about myself and that he encouraged and supported me in every way I needed. I loved that we could spend an entire day doing absolutely nothing excepting listening to music from the 90s and it would be absolutely perfect. I loved the way my skin felt on fire when he touched me. I loved so many things about him that even now, after the bullshit ending to us, I pray for him and his well being. I hope that he is well and happy. I miss his voice and his kiss and I feel like a small part of me is missing. So I guess that I did love him in a way. I think I was starting to love him. And that explains why it has been so hard to move on. But I have comfort in knowing that I get to look forward to a great love. A love that won’t hurt. A love that will last. I just got a small taste of what that can feel like and as I put myself back together, I know that my love will be great. I am so excited to grow in love with someone who deserves my love and to know that it is returned.

 

I enjoy my solitude

Oftentimes more than I enjoy company.

So I took a chance letting you in.

I exposed you to my intricacies

Intimacies

My insecurities.

And you fit right in.

Comfortable.

 

I laid myself bare,

In more ways than one.

Exposed my body and soul.

Held on tight, hoping you would do the same.

I found myself in a place brand new to me,

Relinquishing the comfort of my solitude.

I wanted to welcome you in more.

Comfortable.

 

You became a part of me.

Taught me to be brave in my skin.

Showered in your delicious kisses,

I found my voice.

In your arms I felt strong,

Warm,

And cared for.

Comfortable

I ruined a good date last night. I’m pretty sure he’s not going to call or text or want anything to do with me. And I can’t say I blame him, hell if I were him I’d run too. No pause. No hesitation. No looking back. Because in all reality, no one really wants to deal with someone who’s damaged.
And that’s exactly what I am. I’m damaged. Not because I’ve had terrible relationships. I’ve never been raped or attacked (although technically I have been sexually harassed but that incident never kept me up at night). I don’t have any traumatic stories to tell that explain why I am damaged. So last night when I found myself sabotaging a good thing and crying about it I had to do some soul searching.
And as my tears washed down the shower drain it occurred to me that the reason I am damaged is because I am not used to having a man be so attentive to me.
Do you need me to run that back for you? I had a panic attack and made a great guy feel terrible because he LIKES me! Because for many reasons that I’m not going to get into, I feel like I am not worthy of being liked and cared for. I am not that girl who guys adore and desire, it’s not my role and I’ve always played my role well. Good friend, little sister, I’ve got those perfected. Girlfriend, lover, not so much. I learned not to get excited about a man and to keep my feelings in check. I simply don’t allow myself that pleasure.
I freaked out because the idea that he wanted me to be more than a friend was inconceivable to me. I also couldn’t handle that I was excited about him and by him. So I sabotaged, my body physically would not handle this attention and I made him feel bad and I ran. I literally flopped out of his car with all of my things and ran in my 4 inch heels to my apartment. Because that was easier than accepting that maybe he really does like me and want to be with me.
And now I feel sick, physically ill because of how ridiculous this situation is. All I want to do is rewind to before our date and start over. But there are no do overs and now I have to wait for hin to work through it all.
I hope he calls, I apologized and now I’m giving him his space because I’m sure he’s trying to figure out what the hell he’s gotten himself into. He’s a good guy, certainly the best that I’ve dealt with, probably ever. So I hope he’s willing to handle a damaged, emotional mess like me.

I have a confession to make…I have about 5 posts that I’ve started and never finished. My bad. But let me explain what happens. I get super inspired, come up with the entire post in my head, usually when I’m at work and have no way to write it down. Then I get home and try to write it and it never sounds as good as it did in my head because I’ve lost the inspiration so I don’t finish it. Please forgive me.

Anywho, I’m feeling a bit inspired today and with my broken toe I’m sitting at home with my thoughts and computer and decided to write. The topic of the day: the words “obey” and “respect”. Let’s start with some definitions.

ObeyTransitive Verb: 1. To follow the commands or guidance of. 2. To conform to or comply with.

Respect-Noun: 1. an act of giving particular attention. 2. high or special regard

“Obey” has been coming up a lot in my recent conversations. First was with one of my coworkers, who actually kind of likes me, but that’s a whole other conversation. I think he was trying to feel me out to see how I felt about relationships; I don’t think he got the answer he wanted. Anyway the guy, we’ll call him John, told me that a woman should obey her husband. When I asked for clarification he gave me the example of if the wife wants to go out and the husband tells her no, she obeys him by not going. When I told my cousin about this conversation she responded by saying that she agrees that a wife should obey her husband. But it got tricky when she tried to clarify with an example. She could only reference our grandparents.

And then it hit me: Perhaps she means that a wife should RESPECT her husband! Which is the exact word that I used when I responded to John’s example. If the husband doesn’t want his wife to go out then he can voice that concern and depending on the reasons and his approach the wife may choose to respect his wish and stay home. But I think it is important to note that it is a mutual respect as he respects her enough to give her the choice and she returns it by deciding to stay or by compromising on how long she will be out, where she is going, etc.

I’ve talked about my grandparent’s 62 year marriage before here and I’ve never thought their marriage was based on a command-obey relationship. They are traditional in that my nana cooks for granddaddy everyday, fixes his plate for him, does the laundry and most of the cleaning. He takes care of the cars and any work that needs to be done in and around the house and takes out the trash. They both worked, they both have their own money aside from what they share, the both had equal parts in the raising of the children and they are both actively involved in their church. They travel together but also have their own activities through their church which sometimes separates them. And from what I understand, in their younger days they would even go out without each other on occasion. I’ve never once heard him command her to do something, except when he’s being cute and decides to tell “Beluah” to bring him is dinner. Which always gets the “I-don’t-know-who-your-granddaddy-thinks-he-is-but-Beluah-left-the-building-a-long-time-ago” response from nana, drawing a good laugh from all of us.

Call me crazy, but being expected to obey someone other than my mom is a bit puzzling to me. I mean, slaves were forced to obey their masters so why should I have to obey a man who is supposed to be my partner? Maybe I’m naive or perhaps it is because I was raised by an independent mother or maybe because I grew up in a slightly abusive household where I couldn’t even laugh out loud for fear of disturbing my uncle and unleashing his full wrath but I just don’t see myself “obeying” my future husband. I think in a society where so many women are being subjected to physical, sexual and mental abuse, we should be careful of the expectations we give to our youth of how we cooperate in relationships. And with idiots giving out ludicrous advice like good ole Too Short, we really do have to do better. I truly believe that mutual respect has to be taught. Women, we have to learn to stop emasculating our men and start letting ourselves be vulnerable sometimes. It’s easy to always be the “independent woman” who can do it all at all times. It’s hard to let a man take control and do those things that used to be a “man’s job”. But I’m willing to bet that if we start respecting them, they’ll start respecting us back. Men, stop constantly referring to women as bitches and hoes and when you’re trying to talk to us things like “hey lil mama” or “ayo big girl” are probably not going to get a respectable lady’s attention. Oh and another thing to think about: if your s/o feels respected they might be more likely to go out of their way to do special things for you. If you’re constantly trying to force them to do things, don’t expect any extra good loving.

And yes I’m gonna give an example from the Color Purple because it is one of my favorite stories: Harpo and Sophia. He tried to beat her, she beat him back and left. He respected her as the independent woman she was (and she stopped talking to him like he was crazy all the damn time)  and they had a lasting love and respect for each other even after the Squeaky girl showed up. Just a thought…just a thought.

I had to 🙂

Thoughts?

A little talk about…Respect

Apparently @booboonothefool and I have been on similar wavelengths this week cause my post is gonna be mighty similar to hers.

But back to my thoughts. I have been neglecting my blog unfortunately because I have been so busy. I think many of my friends/coworkers/relatives here in Miami are beginning to think I am using my thesis as a constant excuse to not hang out and work (I did kinda take a day off to have a library day). I assure you, my thesis really has consumed my life this past semester, especially in the past month or so. So now I have a mini break from it while I wait to get it approved, which means I have some time for friends, family, me-time, and reflection.

I've had many nights like this

May 9th marked the end of my career as a Master’s level student (with the exception of the thesis, which will hopefully be done by August, fingers crossed). And with this ending, I now am constantly being asked “So what are you plans? Do you have a job/internship? Are you going on to get your Ph.D?” I’m not gonna lie, I’m beginning to dread this conversation. Why, you ask? Because my answers are not what I want them to be. “I don’t have plans. I don’t have a job/internship lined up. And yes I do hope to begin a Ph.D program next year, but that depends on if I raise my GRE score and find a faculty member who has similar research interests as me at a school that I want to attend”. Sadly, a year ago if you had asked me those same questions, my answers would have been different: ” Why yes, I plan to do a study abroad program in Argentina or Costa Rica for a year. The programs I am looking at include internship options and will allow me to study Spanish at the same time. And when I get back I will begin my Ph.D program, hopefully at UM.” See the major difference there? I’m finding myself in a bit of a difficult position because for the first time ever, I don’t have a plan for my life.

In the past, I had a very specific plan for my life. I was going to get my Bachelor’s degree in Athletic Training in 4 years (which I did do). Then I was going to get my Master’s degree in AT in 2 years. This would mean I would begin my career by the age of 24. I would find my future husband (which was another separate list itself) by the age of 25. Be married (again the details of the wedding is another list) around age 26-27 and have my first child (a boy) at 28 or 29 and my second (a girl) 2 years later. I would work part time until the kids were old enough to start pre-k. And then I would live happily ever after in my beautiful house in the suburbs somewhere in the South. Both of my kids would go off to college on full scholarships and whatever other cliches you can think of. And I would still find time to check off all of the items on my bucket list.

So do you hear God laughin at me? Cause I do.

I’ll be 24 in October. And while I do have my Bachelor’s degree and my Master’s degree so close I can taste it, I won’t be starting a career anytime soon and I likely won’t be done with my Ph.D before I turn 28. I’m not gonna lie though, the thought that I won’t be done with school before my 28th birthday does make me cringe occasionally.

Aww poor kitty...I kinda know how you feel

The lesson that I am learning now is that life doesn’t always go according to plan. No matter how many lists I make, I will never know what is gonna happen in my future. I understand the importance of goals and will not be getting rid of those, but I am accepting that my goals will be met  when the time is right and not when I want them to be met. Right now, I have no idea where I am going to be this time next year, physically, mentally, or emotionally. I’ve had to learn to just go with it. And for someone like me, whose relationship with God is constantly being worked on, that can be very stressful. I’m not as positive thinking as a lot of other people and I’m not always as confident in God’s ability as I should be, but at the end of the day I’m constantly trying to grow. I am beginning to accept that I have to let life take me where it will and that the details will fall into place. I am looking forward to the adventure of learning more about myself as everything unfolds. And while some of my plans remain intact (like my wedding day, if and whenever that may be), others have changed drastically (the specifics of my Mr. Right). But at the end of the day, I’m learnin to go with the flow.

Wise words to live by

” It is better to be skinny and ratchet than fat and well put together.” -The Cuzzo

I found out the other night just how true that statement is. I went to meet a friend at a club in Fort Lauderdale for her birthday. This friend had gotten a VIP table and got a bottle and had called me up to ask me if I wanted to be put on the list. Even though it was a Thursday night and I had work the next day I said yes because it was for her birthday. She and her friends were already in the club by the time that I got there. So I sent her to text to see if I needed to wear heels because all of the clubs in Miami require women to have on heels in order to walk in the door. She told me to put on my heels just in case cause they are kind of exclusive. No biggie, I put on my comfortable heels and made my way to the club. I walked up to the security line, ID in hand and ready to go. And that is when the night took a turn for the worst.

Dickhead security #1-You can’t go in.

Me- Why?

DS #1-That dress isn’t working. It’s just wrong. You can’t go in with that dress.

Dickhead security #2-And you can’t go in with flats.

Me- (To DS #2) These aren’t flats. (To DS #1) And what the hell is wrong with my dress?

DS #1-It has too many colors, the flower print, we’re just very exclusive here. You can’t go in.

Me-That doesn’t make any sense. And I’m on the VIP guest list

DS #2- You’re not getting in. You’re just not what we’re looking for.

Pause. I’m not what you’re looking for…And that ladies in gentlemen is when it began to hit me. It wasn’t because of my dress…but because of the size of my dress.

I called my friend, told her what had been said and she came down to see what she could do. She talked to the lady in charge of the VIP reservations who was of no help because she simply said that if the security won’t let me in then I can’t go in. Nevermind what their reasons are. Then my friend proceeded to try to talk to the security.

Friend- Why won’t you let my friend in. She’s on my VIP Birthday guest list.

DS #1- Her dress has too many colors. She can’t go in.

Friend- That doesn’t make any sense. She’s on my guest list!

DS #1- I’m sorry. She just can’t come in.

Friend- Is it because of her size?

DS #1-Yes.

Friend- You can’t be seriously not letting her in for that reason!!

DS #1-What reason?

Random girl waiting to get in to the club- You’re not letting her because of her size! I just heard you say it. That’s ridiculous!

My friend came over to me. Obviosuly upset and starting to cry, she felt helpless. And she was. It was clear to me that they were’t going to change their minds, guest list or not. And I was too embarrased and upset to fight. I didn’t want to upset my friend anymore because it was her birthday and I didn’t want any more unwelcomed attention. So I left. I kept the tears away until I made it to my car where I started crying harder than I can remember crying in a long time.

The girls that got into the club were all small with tight dresses. Most of them looked very nice, but there were some who were absolutely RATCHET! But they were small so it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter that I looked very nice and well put together. Hair done, makeup done, cute dress, belted sweater and heels. Hell I even wore earrings and I never wear earrings out! But it didn’t matter because I’m fat. And often that is all people see.

As usual, I’ve been sitting on this post for a few days, deciding if it is something that I truly want to write about. But several conversations this week have led to me really think about why I want to continue on in school to get my PhD in Health Psychology and who I want to help and allowed me to let myself complete this post. I talked to one friend about a program she watched on National Geographic about a man who was over 800 pounds and dealing with the consequences. I also had a talk with one of my line sisters about not liking to exercise with people I know. So here’s some thoughts about why I want to become a health psychologist:

Fat people deal with a lot. We are constantly reminded of our size, whether its an article in a magazine about “fat celebrities,” a tv show about people dealing with weight issues, or not being allowed into a club because of our size. With all of these constant reminders of our “failures” it is no wonder that we often have a hard time getting out of our own way. Even if you didn’t have any issues before and just were too lazy to exercise, its easy to give up if you’re constantly beat down by society for your choices. When I was discussing the story of the 800+ pound man with my friend, I thought  how interesting it would be to talk with that man, his wife, and any other family involved. The underlying psychological issues that the man has, if present, would be interesting to understand. The thoughts that ran through the wife’s mind as she watched her husband eat himself to death (he was given 6-12months to live at the point which the show was filmed) would be fascinating to me. The family’s role in his self-destruction should also be examined to see if they offered support or ridicule.

At the end of the day, dealing with any underlying psychological issues will help with the whole weight loss thing. But if a person constantly has encounters like the one I had at the night club it makes it that much harder. I have my own issues that I am currently dealing with. I can say that the incidence has made me more focused on dealing with my own issues. It is motivating me to take control of how I deal with things. I know I’ve made some progress because instead of coming home and eating everything in sight like I would’ve in the past, I came home, cried it out and went to bed. I am workin on getting myself to handle things better so that I can actually lose weight.

My goal is to get out of my own way so that I can lose the weight that I need to. I want to help others deal with whatever they encounter to help them lose weight. But I don’t want to just help them. I want to help their families and friends. Some of the most frustrating programs I see are those that just educate the client but not the family that is involved in their lives. If you allow a person who has struggles with their weight to be around people who do not support them, they won’t be successful. It’s just like sending someone who just completed an AA program into a bar and telling them to only order water. They might be able to make the right decision the first 2 or 3 times, but eventually they will give in to temptation. I want to educate everyone about obesity. I want all of the ignorant comments to stop. I want people to support overweight/obese people rather than ridicule them. And most important, I don’t want anyone to feel the way that I felt standing outside of that club because that was one of the lowest points that I have ever felt.