Thanksfaking

The holidays will never be the same again.  Now that he’s gone.  But, neither will any interaction between her and his side of the family.  Not now.  Not after facing every drop of paternal poison, like popped pimples between her fingernails.  She figured the scars had healed by now, tricked by loose scabs just itching for a holiday picking.  See, that’s what happens when family oozes out the wood works.

The night before Thanksgiving, one of the daughters called.  Oh how she favors that one so much.  Krystal hadn’t seen her since the funeral, hadn’t spoken to her in months.  She missed her.  Just not enough to risk her frayed threads of sanity.  “You never know,” Krystal thought, “what if she needs a ride over.  You-know-who would be more than happy to oblige.”  Eyeballing the familiar number on her caller id, Krystal could hear it now, “WE thought WE’d drop by to see you…it’s been too long.”  Against her usual boldness, Krystal decided to take the coward’s way out.  Screen caller id the rest of the evening.  When the daughter called again, as much as she wanted to reach out to her, Krystal was conveniently too busy and too sore from a recent car accident to answer.  Before turning in for the night, Krystal sat on the side of her bed, and reviewed her call log  — three missed calls.

She felt him the moment sunlight announced it was Thanksgiving.  The first major holiday without her Dad.  Only time would tell if she’d make it through the day.

They ordered Thanksgiving dinner in this year, Krystal, hubby, the kids, and her Mama.  All it took was a 3rd grade reading level to prepare the meal.  “What do we put the spinach casserole on?”, her hubby asked.  “Here are the heating instructions…”, Krystal replied, pretending to be busy stirring the greens.  Actually, the greens were stirring her.  Collard greens.  Her Dad’s favorite ‘green’ to cook.  The scent of her Mama’s succulent collards triggered flashbacks so vivid, they almost took her breath away.  She’d avoided eye contact all morning, but now, she needed close contact before her knees gave out.  “If only I could make it to the half bath unnoticed”, she hoped in vain.  Passing her Mama on the way, Krystal fell onto her Mama’s neck, her body jolting through every silent sob.

“It’s OK, baby.  You missing him, huh?” Krystal grabbed a stray paper towel on the counter, equally dazed by the fact that she cried on her Mother’s shoulder –  “when’s the last time that happened?” — fatigued by the painful weight of family secrets swirling through her mind, and the frightening sound of ringing cell phones.  This time?  Uncle Reuben, her Dad’s older brother.

“Heyyy girl…where you been?”  She was cold busted.  It was easier to ignore one of the daughters’ calls — she wasn’t an elder.  She couldn’t do Uncle Reuben like that.  “Umm, hey Unc…how are you?” “Girl, you know I don’t ever see or hear from you….I got back surgery coming up in a few weeks……Hey, do you ever hear from….?”

Krystal’s heart stopped.  That name.  She wondered why hearing that name still made every cell in her body ache.  “No, I haven’t seen many folks since the funeral, Unc.  I…I just…it’s just that…” Krystal broke again.  “It’s just been too hard to be around family, Unc.  I know I owe you an apology, I’m so sorry, it’s just too much for me right now…”  “Don’t worry hun, if you don’t call me, I’m gonna check up on you, it’s gonna get better.”

The meal was beyond scrumptious.  Standing in the kitchen with her plate, contemplating Round 2, the cell phone rings.  Krystal’s brother.  She figured he was a safe ‘answer’, more standoffish and to himself than she has been lately.  No harm in answering…

“Wassup, man?!” “Hey big sis…we’re all over here at the house…”  “We’re?”, Krystal thought.  Immediately her heart began to pound like a jackhammer.  “Cool, well umm, tell everyone I said hello.”  “Hey, wait a minute, let me put you on speakerphone…”

Before her brother could press the button on his end, her mask slid effortlessly in place, right on cue.  Krystal’s voice, level and confident, floated through the receiver like the aroma of freshly baked bread.  She knew her Mama and hubby would pick up on her sudden emotional shift.  She didn’t care. For someone who can’t stand fake people, she was about to win an Oscar.  She had to protect herself, and survive the moment.  She could ftake it…

“Hey everybody!  Happy Thanksgiving!” Krystal’s Mama glanced up at her, then back at her plate.  Mamas always know, even when they don’t say.  Krystal carried on with that side of the family, never missing one witty beat.  The dodged daughter was in the room.  “Girl, where you been…I’ve been trying to call you.” Then without warning, that voice chimed in.  “Happy Thanksgiving, sweetie!”  Ain’t this some bull$#@!

Sweetie?!!  Sweet?!!  Ohhh, I get it….the taste of my innocence as a child, right?  Krystal didn’t know whether to vomit, go on a cursing rampage, tell every secret right there on speakerphone, or drop dead.  All viable options, except one.  The very sound of that voice awakened the nightmares, the sadness, the heartache.  Flashbacks of deeds left unspoken til this day, for a little girl who used to speak so highly of them.  “After all that hard work in therapy, hadn’t I forgiven?  When will their presence stop strangling the life outta me?  When will it just stop hurting?”

All of today’s questions would have to wait in line for now…take a number after the multitude of “Why’s”.  Now serving #354,466,498…..

—

i dunno what’s up with the 3rd person stuff.  it just started coming out of me like that, so i went with it.  i’m much gooder *smile* than last week…just…i dunno yet…workin’ it out, i guess .

The Secret Keeper

At first, I took offense to his words. I was 30+ pounds heavier at the time, so I guess my head went right to the thighs and booty. (I kinda miss my old booty, but I digress lol). I didn’t show my offense, of course. Struggled hard to keep from wrinkling both the left and right eyebrows. For one, he was Daddy, and respect was first nature — not second. Plus, Daddy’s words always had this underlying meaning. A punchline you never saw coming when it punched you. You never really knew where he was going, until YOU got there. Yeah, we’re nothing alike, right lol?

“You’re gonna have the heaviest casket in the family.”

I don’t remember if he asked me something, and I replied, “sorry, can’t tell ya” or what. But when I realized he meant my ability to take “business” to the grave, from that day on, I knew how serious Daddy was about me being the family “secret keeper”.

I’d hear him on the phone with my siblings, talking about personal issues. He’d say, “Look, what you need to do is tell {my name} your business. She can hold water…you know I can’t. She’ll tell you what you should do, and she’ll never tell me or anybody else.”

I still to this day consider this one of the best compliments Daddy ever gave me. Only now, the more I work on my book, I’m wondering how long I’ll be able to hold the title…

Some of the scenes in the book are shifting. Time shifting. Say, where there was a flash back, I think I need to bring the reader into it present tense..and vice versa. I’ve also been doing some heavy research for the doctor character in the book, yeah, i.e. therapist. Being that I have no formal training in psychology, psychotherapy, counseling, and the like, I want this character to really know her stuff. She must be as awesome and dynamic as another character will need her to be…

Funny. Guess what? This is my 201st post here at Ashe.Selah, my anonymous footprint in the blogosphere, where I tell magnanimous secrets. How crazy. Who’dve thunk I’d still be here in ‘08, that anybody anywhere would give a hoot about my life and thoughts. Oops, I digressed again, didn’t I.

So, here I am researching characters, and I’m uncovering myself. Finding answers and reasons for this intense desire to disclose, come out of hiding with all my junk (even if I’m cloaked in a pseudonym). Man, what happened to that secret-keepin’, heavy casket chic?

Well, she kinda stumbled upon the mental, emotional, psychological benefits of — Writing. Let’s be clear folks, before stuff hit the fan, I wasn’t a diarist, a journalist, no pad and pen beside my bed. I had zero desire to write, not alone a passion. Fast forward to the present…I’m blogging, writing a book. Where’d that come from? Why did I gravitate to writing, of all things?

And lordy, don’t talk content. The secrets I’ve held for a lifetime wrapped neatly in fiction. The book I wish someone would have handed me when I was reaching up to scratch the bottom. Because I’ve gone through such a butt-naked transformation lol, I get lectured all the time….”there’s a difference between transparency, and uncovering” or “tell this part, but don’t tell that part.” No, I don’t want to do all the work it takes to write a book, and end up regretting it cos I “told too much” or someone says “uh huh, I know you were talking about me/them.” Truth is….I care, I don’t want to hurt anybody (esp. family)…..but I just don’t care enough to keep it bottled up inside anymore. The Great Secret Keeper…is fading fast….I dunno…

For now, I’m really digging Pennebaker’s research…why do we keep secrets, how do we categorize secrets, how does secret-keeping affect our stress levels, our health? I believe there’s some truth to the positive correlation between writing about traumatic or emotional experiences, and mental and physical health.

Who was that chic that said, “Secrets are like kisses. Feels better when you give them away.” Cover your ears up there, Daddy. It was…Me. Ashe.Selah

Let’s Talk About…

See there.  What are you thinking?  Did you think I was gonna say sex?  Well, if you did, then you are absolutely dead right lol.  Just know this post has a big fat TMI advisory…it’s transparent just like I have to be right now.  What?  Gas prices and time shortages are cutting into my one-on-ones, so…..let’s see.

Umm, Tyler Perry started it.  Huh?  See, me and the fam were all sprawled out on the sofa watching “House of Payne” a few nights ago.  It was the episode where the son and his friend skipped school, invited girls over, got caught, and learned lessons about abstinence.  OK.  So me, son, daughter, and hubby (sitting in that order) are watching Allen Payne’s character tell his son about teenaged preganancy, STDs, how the best choice is to wait until you’re married (what we teach our kids), yada yada…..Hubby interjects to the kids, “you guys here that?”  Then, the son on the show almost causes me to black out lol.  He asks, “Well, Dad, did YOU wait??”  Ohhhh Lawd lol!

What happened next is hilarious to me…in hindsight.  I froze.  Literally.  Like if I moved one muscle, or took one more breath, it would be the catalyst for son or daughter (mainly daughter) to ask, “yeah Mama, did ya’ll wait?”  Thirty seconds passed.  No question.  I took a chance, and with face towards the TV, I rolled my eyes to the right to get a peripheral of hubby at the other end of the sofa.  His silly tail was doing the same thing…looking at me lol.  But he had this innocent, tell-tale smirk on his face, like a cat with feathers hanging from its mouth lol.  I wanted to burst out laughing.  But I know hubby would have bust me out, “Whatcha laughin at baby…something you wanna share with the group?”  He’s crazy funny like that…

So lss, no questions that night.  We escaped to tell the truth another day.  And tell it we must, especially with all of our talks about honesty and how Mama and Daddy aren’t perfect.  But this scene took my mind back to those days.  Outta Mama’s house, on my own in college.  Boy, was I a trip.  Couldn’t seem to spell abstinence.  It was like I was on Soul Train at the scramble board arranging letters — the “i” was missing.  My approach to sexuality was both dangerous and unhealthy – to my physical and emotional well-being.

I’ve read alot about how sexual assault survivors approach sex.  There are about as many mindsets out there as there are survivors (unfortunately…everybody’s different, right?).  Extremes from those who totally abhor sex and anything that relates to sex, to those who crave rape/S&M/bondage scenes in their sex life.

I don’t know if there is a psychological term for my come from.  I jokingly (but truthfully) refer to it as “avenger”.  Take the weapon used against you, and flip it.  I don’t know what it was, but there was just something about holding the strength of a man in the palms of my hands….watching him melt like ice on a hot plate, with yours truly at the controls.   Control.  That’s exactly the high I was on.  Even in my neophyte days of sexual exploits, the guys couldn’t explain it, but I immensely enjoyed hearing them try…describing my touch, my movements, my scent, my taste (and this is by no means a boast or brag, but a glimpse into a dark abyss….my sick, unhealthy approach to pain).  I really didn’t know what I was doing, but I liked the response.  Thought it was empowering.  Sure, I was taught to wait for marriage, honor God with my body (was taught other things too), but I was in the driver’s seat now, and decided to take matters (and my life) into my own hands.  Felt like I couldn’t reach the brakes, and so I quickly exalted myself to Nascar status.  I commanded their bodies.  Resistance was futile.  The more they called out in pleasure, the more intense my efforts flowed in retributive justice….I remembered when I wanted to cry out, but couldn’t…with filthy hands covering my mouth, and a knife pressed against my neck.  Who’s in control now?

Took a minute for me to realize it.  Punishment and revenge through pleasure?  Wasn’t the joke STILL on me?

Funny, there’s no punchline to the roots of this mess.  Isn’t this what “they” taught me as a kid?  My worth and value was inextricably tied to my willingness and ability to give pleasure.  Refuse, and face rejection, cutoff, disconnection, abandonment from acceptance, affection, and love.  I refused…promise kept.  Although events had already reached a hideous level, and I could go no further, I wondered over the years how things could have been different, had I not refused.  Maybe they would’ve still loved me.

It took 25 years to reach the “mirror” of these events.  No longer a child, I was grown now, and had just experienced some life-freeing transformations.  Cool with being vulnerable.  Ready to open myself as I never had before in my life.  Willing to try. It’s crazy how with some mirrors, we “go back” to right the wrongs…do things differently for better outcomes.  Experience our strength and growth…find courage, ”I can do this”.  LSS, I didn’t refuse this time…on the contrary, I opened big and gave more than what was actually needed, above and beyond what was asked for, all of it taken nonetheless.  No, I didn’t refuse this time around.  So painfully strange how…I was left with the same abandoning outcome.  Everything else…I’d just given away (can’t get it back now…that sucks).

Years, experiences, and lessons have taught me….My beautiful now….I love making Love.  I am no longer an “avenger”, but one who’s learned to give Love and affection genuinely, without motive or agenda…looking ahead, not back.  There’s an intercourse in spirit that I’ve opened to…a connection that transcends the physical, and takes you to beautiful, euphoric places longer than the hottest orgasm(s) can (yeah, I didn’t believe it either lol).  I no longer rely on the hypothesis that climax = intimacy, but I’ve been blessed to experience climax + intimacy, and its rapturous parallel universes *smile*.  And there’s still more to learn and experience over time in the Love Garden we’ve created.

To the Creator, who looks down into my heart….First, I’m grateful for your hand of protection…shielding me from unwanted pregnancies, possibly abortions, STDs, HIV, in the height of my disobedience and dishonor of You and myself.  I’m so thankful for your patience, forgiveness, and Love through some of the most stupid decisions I’ve ever made in my life.  And as far as those big holes left in my soul from that crap are concerned, please teach me how to fill them with You.  Even though sometimes (like lately) I’m struggling, and tempted to fill those chasms with counterfeits…I get it, now…Only Your supernatural Love can heal me, take me the rest of the way to wholeness and purpose.  But, I’m being honest and transparent with you…I’ve told you every secret I hid…sometimes, I am struggling…Save me.  Ashe.Selah

A Million Pieces of Silence

“Hur-ray hur-ray…step right up for the greatest show on Earth. On this stage, the world’s strongest little girl.”

A couple of days ago, my 30-year show contract was canceled. No more strong little older little girl lol.

Being an only child since 8, when bro left for college…you’d think a daughter and single Mama by themselves would’ve been close. Mama never knew we weren’t. Take that back…she knew, just not why.

My Mama has never been anybody’s fool. Neither did she raise one either. But as life would have it, when it came to ‘knowing’ Me, I had Mama and everybody else bamboozled. “Strength for sale!” They bought all I could produce, demand never satisfied. So, I kept selling it…all the way to thirty-something….until the doc told me last week my production of strength to hide pain had polluted my health & environment. One incurable, one unknown by their standards (not God’s). Yeah, I panicked. I did. And shortly thereafter let it slip, “Maybe, umm, we umm can talk, Ma.” Now what I go and say a stupid thing like that for LOL!

“You’d be surprised, girl. Not much can shock your Mama anymore.” She hadn’t heard this. I was just a few grains of sand shy from being out of time. Or rather, in perfect purposed time…for a conversation thirty years in the making. One that would shatter silence into a million pieces. I got desperate. She heard it in my voice, and I couldn’t shake her Mama radar. Like a black hole, I couldn’t resist the relentless pull of her Love for me. “I’m here when you’re ready, girl.” A Love I denied time and time again. Neither did I want to anymore, I guess. I needed her, like I never let myself need her before in my life. Through all the recent nightmares about having the ‘talk’, and hyperventilating at the very thought of it, I wanted her to know…couldn’t hide anymore…it was time.

And so……….I. Told. Her. E-V-E-R-Y-T-H-I-N-G!!!!!!!!!

A rambling recap: I’ll need kleenex, paper towels, something….won’t make it through this without crying. “OK, One for you, one for me.” Jumped in head first. The abduction and molestation at knife-point. Kindergarten. Two males. The street and ‘hood where it happened. She remembered that time and place just as I described it. Shocked. Next. Family secret. The rape in every penetrating sense of the word. No details. Named names, though. Fed and polluted with pornography. Should have been eating my apple sauce and animal crackers. Should have been learning my time tables, not lessons in division. Really wish I could remember innocence. “Are you sure?” I know it sounded crazy to her after she said it. It’s ok. I understood the bomb(s) I was dropping. “Girl, NO……I’m so sorry…isn’t that when you shut down on me completely.” It was weird watching her place, twist, and turn the childhood puzzle pieces till they fit. She got the big pic nonetheless. “I believe every word, sweetie….it’s just so HARD to believe….You?….You and me together in the house all that time, and I didn’t know?” I’m sorry, Ma. I apologized for the blame I held in my heart. Shut her (and everybody else) out. Had no one, mostly by choice, partly by circumstance, to help me through it. So I buried it. Shared its resurrection in ‘06 and how. Shared my botched suicide plans/prep. The reason why she rarely saw me that year. Two years of therapy. Crushed by ’07’s final exam — the offender came back around me last year…trying to be ‘family’ like nothing happened (what the?). Easier to forgive out of sight, mind. Their resurface at a time when I had to walk Daddy through cancer and final rest almost took me out. “So, that’s why last year was so horrible?…that’s why you’ve been in isolation?” Now she knows why they disturb me so. The talks about “why they keep callin’ me?!!!” She remembered, “..and I had them over for dinner that time…blah blah” We laughed. How, during that meal, did I keep a straight face? No one knew or suspected a thing. I connected other dots on how this crap affected my life. Guarded. Lack of trust. I got me, since no one else did. When I did open wide, gave me without inhibition, got hurt bad. Exposed the really not good part of the doc’s report (hadn’t told it all…cos I didn’t want her/hubby worried about me). Bottom line, “…and girl, by the grace of God, you’re still here…You survived!”

See, Mama saw something I was missing. In Mama’s eyes, here was her miracle baby the docs said would be stillborn. They never heard my heartbeat once during her pregnancy. A doc in residence, who witnessed my birth, wrote a paper/article on Mama in the 70’s (more in the book). So, for Mama (and me too), there is STILL nothing too hard for God. From the womb, till this very moment, I have been well-appointed with purpose and miracles from a God who never changes! Mama with her sweet, sanctified self says, “Oh, Ima put some prayer on this, girl…nip the emotional pain, the health will fall back in line..” No one knows how super healthy I was, and will return to being, like Mama does.

How do I feel now? Relieved. Numb. Exhausted. Giddy. Different. I dunno know. I know my Mama Loves me, though. Betcha that! So, now we begin again, and learn to Love each other for who we genuinely are. No more masks. That’s a nice journey ahead. I also betcha this breakthrough was key to my healing. Maybe that’s why I had writer’s block…I needed to LIVE a few more pages and chapters in the book. Ashe.Selah

Chicken

I’ve got feathers sprouting from my head.

Every word I try to speak comes out like, “Cluck!”

My tummy is topsy turvy…could it be the worm I ate?

In the background, hubby teases, “You scared of yo Mama?”

There’s only one word for this madness…

CHICKEN!

it’ll make sense later…..:-)