Seeing to Believe It

Sometimes, ya gotta see it, to believe it. Ya gotta experience it, to understand it. Sometimes.  Where am I with this?  All over the place, but I’ll give you a case in point. A rather gross & graphic case…but a good example nonetheless.

Ever been sick with diarrhea? Now, don’t blurt out your answer, but tell me — Why did you look in the toilet? {Stop smiling, or is that a frown?} C’mon now. You know you snuck a peek lol. We all know what that stuff looks like…how awful it smells…What makes us look? And better yet, after looking…why do we feel we have this full(er) “understanding” of just how sick we were? “Wow, my stomach was really upset.” Umm, ya think?!! Maybe it’s just me…(I had to go all the way left, right?  Mental remnants of the last post, maybe lol).

But seriously. During my Test review this week (looks like I’ll be here a while…feel free to catch up here and here), I found myself NOT wanting to see anymore.  I wanted to get up, kick my desk, and run out the classroom.  That’s not Me I see?!  I don’t want to see why I missed this hellified essay question in Friendships — just tell me what I should’ve said or done, Father. I’ll memorize the answer! Promise.

Ooh, another example just came to mind…can I ramble this out?…Catching your spouse or significant other in a compromising position. Lordy!  I hope to never have this experience, but for those who have, did you really need to see all that? Could someone have told you that Rick or Regina was living foul, and you would’ve gotten it… Understood it fully? Hmmm…. Be honest. How much do you have to be shown, to understand… to make adjustments… to get the gist… to Change… to stop it… to Believe?  And why?

We’re all in individual places of awareness, receptiveness, openness to what our life lessons are trying to show us. Process is always tailor-made to us, huh?  No one size fits all.  As I try to embrace my reprieve and isolation from close friends, or more accurately, the ones I worked to be close to (there’s a colossal difference), I’m starting to see all the jacked up patterns in me so vividly…Boy, did I get a blast of my own insanity this week….and frankly, this junk hurts, and it makes me angry.

It hurts cos part of me is still learning how to let go, stop resisting…another part of me is in disbelief that I could have veered off so far to the left.  Angry cos I can’t go back and unplant the root of this stuff, nor can I blame it/them forever for all the ‘wrong’ that has happened in life. Those events were a part of my path, my lessons. Victim and blame is not a part of my destiny. And from the evil ashes of that abuse, I’m still rising stronger through every breakthrough.   So, yeah, this week I got pissed, I vent and complain about what I see and understand now  — but I realize it was and is needful for me.

Sure, my stuff first, but I’m also learning when others show you who they are, believe them and let them be.  Stop excusing and trying to make folks into who YOU want them to be…that’s not fair, that’s not love.  If this is how I’m gonna really get it…better myself, grow, move on…then so be it.  As much as it hurts, the Creator is not being cruel by showing me the pollution and contamination He’s cleansing within me.  I think this dreadful exercise will help me in the long-run…help me not to be so quick to judge others, knowing good and well where I come from.  I’m really looking forward to being an all-around better Lover.

I was in the bed one morning, thinking about this Test review stuff…and I was reminded of the process for pulling an achy tooth.  Funny how one little tooth can make your whole world ache.  You want it out, it’s doing you more harm than good…but who wants to go through the pressure, the Novocain shots, the soreness, the swollen jaws, ya know?  It’s gonna take pain and discomfort to get over pain and discomfort.  But when the healing is realized, you’re soooo grateful you went through the tough stuff — to get to the sweetness of relief.

Can life really go from sour, to bitter…to sweeeeeetness?  

Expired Relationships…Read the Label

I made it to church last Sunday. Dare I say the message hit me smack dab in the chest. It’s Wed nite, and I told myself I wasn’t gonna blog about it lol. Heck, my human side (flesh) has been trying to fight and deny it for days. However, my Spirit is ready and willing to embrace and apply its Truth.  And that pretty much amounts to a warring within that has been rather uncomfortable, to say the least. Looks like I have to write about it…cos the gravity of these emotions won’t turn me loose otherwise. I’ll feel better, as usual, after I ride this ramble like a Harley…rant and get it out. Gotta feeling, though…it ain’t gonna be too nice.

Pastor shared…

“There was a time when you couldn’t just open my refrigerator, and grab something to eat or drink…Not without looking at the expiration date.  Cos the meat or milk that would have otherwise done your body good BEFORE, had foregone its usefulness, and would now do you nothing but harm.  Sure, it’s still meat…it’s still milk, but it’s unhealthy.

Likewise, some of the relationships we’re in have long foregone their usefulness, their benefit.  But we hold on to them, ignoring their toxicity, doing ourselves more harm than good.

Take inventory of your close relationships, your friends, the one’s you’re intimate with.  Know that there are no ‘neutral’ relationships…the crew around you is either bringing you UP, or bringing you DOWN.  Write their names down..put a plus or minus by their name…be honest…there are no neutrals.”

I’ve written before about my extremely anemic ‘gift of good-bye’ (read fear of abandonment).  Over the past few years, I’ve had to cut folks pretty deep.  And I’m not just talkin’ bout a co-worker, or a fellow parent at the school….I’m talkin’ years of friendship invested, one even from childhood.  As toxic as some of those relationships were, there are times I find myself missing them.  Wanting to go back.  I read the date loud and clear, right?

So, I made my plus/minus list.  “If after you make your list, you have very few to no pluses, you’re in an excellent place!  This is the place where you get to nurture your vertical relationship…That relationship between yourself and God that may be lacking in some areas…some places may need strengthening, some places we need to show Him, let Him in…cos alot of our horizontal relationships became unhealthy replacements or counterfeits to what our relationship with God was ordained to do, give, be for us.”

Ouch!  Dontcha just hate the Truth sometimes lol.  While I sat there in my seat listening, Son nudges me and says, “Ma, every time I come here, he talks about something I’m going through.”  I could only smile and say, “Me too, baby….me too.”

While I’ve had to let a few of my “forevers” go, I realize my hands weren’t that squeeky clean either.  The revelation came during therapy.  I wanted to talk about what this friend did, what that one did.  It was hard to swallow that, yeah, they chose what they chose, they did what they did — but it’s not about them…it was about Me.  What pattern did I have on repeat that kept me in Special Ed regarding my relationships.  Answer?  The notion that I had to prove myself worthy of others’ validation…I’m worth something if you say I am.  What madness!

The root of this, also revealed on my journey to me, stemmed from a childhood decision, where I chose not to prove my worth…anymore.  See by age 9, it was seared into my mind that I was worth it…love (or what I thought was love), affection, connection — if I pleased others.  Having been groomed for sexual favors, if I refused them, I would be disowned, rejected.  Frankly, I loved them soo much, I trusted them, looked up to them, they made me smile BEFORE…but here I was at 9, having to ‘let them down’…I had to say ‘no’ and face every consequence of that choice (to be worthless).

It’s really not a cool thing to come to the realization that…I’ve lived a lifetime of pleasing others close to  me, subconsciously trying to make up for that pain.  Trying to do-over.  Trying to prove I’m worthy of their love and friendship.  “See, I’m loyal!”  My ‘ok, I’ll be a good little girl’ grew into showering friends with time, money, gifts, favors….anything they asked me for…ANYTHING, just don’t leave me — like they did.

Now, I’ve found the strength to get up and leave myself (again).  I wasn’t used to it, but I stopped taking anything people give me.  Stopped letting people use me.  Stopped accepting their personal motives for a friendship that had nothing to do with what they were willing to give.  But honestly…since I’ve been in this healing solitude for so long now, without an ace-coom-boom sisterfriend at my fingertips…sometimes I miss them so much, I hate that they said good-bye, or that I had to leave…and remnants of nine year old me want to make it up..I want to go back and try to fix it.  Give or do whatever it takes.  But I read the date loud and clear, right?

“This is not the time to run out and find you some pluses.  When your vertical relationship with God is in-line….HE will align you with the few pluses He has for you.  And as for the minuses?  Love them, God bless them, but you have to distance yourself from the toxicity…to make room for the purposed good. Those who will benefit your life and where you’re purposed to go in this season.  They’ll appear in purposed time…too soon, and we’ll mess things up again.  So keep your focus upward, grow vertically, and horizontal relationships will take care of themselves.”

As much as I miss frequent hang time with ‘my girls’, I have a life to help rebuild by making wise choices.  I have a marriage that is re-aligning after the turmoil.  I’m learning to be an active Mama again.  I’m rebuilding my financial stability.  I’m getting to know, and learning to love and respect my Mom like I never have before.  I really do have my hands full with what really matters right now.

I think things became such a struggle, cos I’m sooo close to wholeness in my mind and spirit.  Lifelong, hurtful patterns take time to heal.  But the fact is, I’m not nine anymore.  And I’ve got to keep moving away from old patterns, no matter how comfortable they feel, and no matter how challenging this new life is for me to grasp.  Wow.  My life is on total REBOOT, relationships and all.  Ashe.Selah

Read it and Cheer?

That was my first thought. My first emotional response…happiness, relief. I saw the upside of it all. Yay!, there’s nothing wrong with me. I AM on schedule, on point. Doing mighty fine, right? Then. Reality. What? How long? It’s amazing how fast cheers can morph into sackcloth and ash. Read it and weep.

“It takes the average (new) author 5 to 8 years to finish the manuscript for a novel.”

What?!!! I didn’t even bookmark the BBC’s site for reference. I googled it, but can’t find it now. Maybe my subconscious saw a red circle with a slash hovering over those words. Five to eight years…good lawd? I don’t have five to eight years to get this book outta me! Do I?

And hubby doesn’t make it any better. He clowns me, “Alright now, you know you’re gonna be 80 at your book signing.” Very funny. He knows what button to push — after I’ve scraped his nerves to the white meat lol. I don’t even tell him anymore what chapter I’m on when he asks — NUNYA!!

But all jokes aside, this can’t be right…or is it? And God, anyway you can poof pow and speed up this process…(nope, dig in and earn those stripes, chic!)

I know, I know. Process is process for a reason. And when you rush through process and purpose, ya miss golden nuggets you’ll need further down the line. Then what am I wussing talking about?

I guess I just don’t want to be thinking about this stuff years from now. There’s still this serious attraction to my handy shovel…we were friends for a long time…”bury it”. I have days where, I wish I could walk away from the book (but I can’t), it’s too big for me to birth. Too much. Then I remember sign after sign….big and small confirming this is my purpose.

If I dig even farther down into my angst, get really real with myself, I could probably divide this thing into two sections…1) Family, and 2) my inexperience as a writer. I’ll start with door #2 cos it’s easier. To be frank….dialogue is killin’ me…I don’t want to put the reader to sleep!…and who wants to read another abuse-survivor-themed journey…will readers get it?….do they care?…why do I write the way I do?…If Johnny went to the store for his Mama, I’ll write “Johnny looked down and carefully avoided every crack. A broken back was not on his Mama’s list of things to pick up from the store.” This writing thing seems to require just as much Love and acceptance of yourself as Life itself. Talk about the self-doubt hurdles, and insecurity long jumps…

Door #1 is a doozie, colossal….part of the final leg of total healing, and therapy for that matter. It probably needs its own post…but I’m on a roll. I love my fam, but will they still love me if I reveal their beloved was a child rapist? Sure, they think I’m (one of) the greatest now, but will they crucify me..do I really wanna run the risk of being cutoff, when abandonment is/was (workin on it) such a painful issue for me. The way my fam handles issues is by not talking about them…not only am I gonna talk, but I’m gonna put it in writing? Huh? Nuff of that for now…

“I wonder why purpose doesn’t make sense sometimes.” That’s the exact thought that just ran through my mind. Could it be we smother purpose with assumptions, with anxieties that carry no relevance in the long-run? Probably. All I know right now is, be it 5, 8, or 10 years….this book is in me, and I gotta get it out, somehow. I will. Ashe.Selah

Holla at me authors….what were the shaky moments like for you?…how did you cope over the (inevitable) years?

Sistine Dreams on a Crayon Budget

I’ve been in this place for a second, a funky place in a small, but important space in my life. Been trying to figure out how to write about it, in a way that honestly describes what I feel, without shooting TMI into the veins of my blog…hmm…let’s see.

I thought about who I’d go to for perspective on this off-kilter feeling, this frustration in which I grapple for shreds of gratitude, nonetheless. One morning last week, the perfect subject came to me — Michelangelo.

So, in my mind, I thrust ‘ole Mike into this nightmare of a place that mirrors my reality…just to see how he’d respond…and better yet, if he came back to ME for advice, what would I tell him?…how would I suggest he deal with it?

And there he sat, as prisoner. A prison more so of circumstance than physical shackles, locks, and bars. See, he’s commissioned once again to paint a masterpiece. Sure, he still identifies more with sculpting (let’s pretend he adores painting just as much), but after the Sistine Chapel, he has an intimate knowledge of creating visual masterpieces, of reaching heights in his craft that very few people achieve in a lifetime. He’s excited about the project, spent years of time and money in preparation. But, with the final budget Pope-approved, and the perfect crew assembled, a debilitating disease cripples his hands. He still has movement, but overall, he’s heartbroken. “But, hey, don’t worry Mike. In lieu of the masterpiece, here’s an 8ct. box of crayons with red, yellow, green, blue, brown, black, orange and purple. Just do what you can, it’ll still be a masterpiece, because it’s Michelangelo.”

The Michelangelo in me is screaming, “what?!”

I am filled with creative energy. A woman with deep thoughts, feelings, and a vivid imagination (can u tell?). In this space of reference, I’ve created masterpieces to behold, magnetic works of art with a connect that warms the heart, mind, body and soul…brush strokes where every bristle massages vibrant colors into the skin of the canvas, the vibrations of which I am truly one with….

So, maybe I’m spoiled in the fact that I get high off the grandiose I’ve known and loved, and 99 1/2 isn’t good enough for me to give. I want the masterpiece…not just a piece of what I’ve mastered. But, my hands are challenged right now. And herein lies the dilemma…how do I, having created and achieved levels of masterpiece, appreciate the simplicity of crayons?

Man, if I could’ve lived this anecdote last week, I’m sure I would have thrown that Crayola box across the room in a tirade. A sistah had had it lol. But, slowly, my Spirit is humbling, as God compels me to approach this thing differently. I wanna pick up the crayons I’ve scattered here and there, the ones I tried to step on and break…take a good look at them…rethink this thing…choose again. Umm, Ms. Creative, is your collection of paint colors and brushes the only way to create a masterpiece? Have I boxed my masterpiece into this one-dimensional thing…when I have the power to create limitless expressions beauty? Could I create something beautiful simply with the colors of the rainbow? Hmm…

What would I say to Mike (me)? Sometimes we miss the beauty in the journey of creating..the beginning, the in between, worried about the final product. Sometimes we forget how things could be worse, and how there are people who have learned to do much more with less. Then, there are others with paints and brushes at their disposal, but zero movement — and vice versa.

In every situation, we are all creators of our own reality, and I can either create frustration, imbalance, or a different kinda masterpiece. Let’s just say, I’m beginning to see my crayons in a whole new, creative light. And with 180 degree thoughts, I really ain’t seen nuthin’ yet. Ashe.Selah

Playing Doctor

Ok, so. I had this theory right? Cos I know MY body, and just maybe Ms. Doc, even though you’re a board certified holistic MD, you may be barking up the wrong tree. Let’s see…..When I do X, the symptoms and pain show up automatically. Yeah! Maybe it’s X…stop doing X for a minute and see if the symptoms and pain go away. This way, I won’t have to take those icky pills.

Dontcha just hate smart, know it all people. I told ya’ll I’ve been this way from a child, smart(alic) in more ways than two lol. Yeah, I stopped X and the symptoms came back anyway this week. I thought the evidence was so clear. But I wasn’t asked to think. They did ask me to get on high doses of hormone therapy, allow it to alter my body’s natural functions, and if the symptoms go away in the process, they’ll kindly diagnose me with something that has no medical cure. Alrightie, woo hoo…sign me up! Yeah right….what the? What kinda jacked up plan is that, doc?

Since I’m outta theories and test plans, doggone it, I guess I’ll be (re)starting the regimen tonight. I gave it my best fight (ie. resistance). Need I say how ticked off I am right now. I’m battling hard for the sake of balance and a positive attitude…right this sec, all I have is attitude, and thus the vent.  But I maintain a brewing passion to help others see how emotional pain can and does attack the physical, in this season as a poster child .

I was balled up in bed this morning with the heating pad. Gotta call from hubby. We may be getting a visit this weekend from the last person on the planet I ever ever want to see again. Yeah them….folks, when it rains, sometimes it pours.

Oh Lord, I wish they would go away (how do you make family go away, just one person, but keep their children and siblings in fellowship, huh?…answer me that!). A sistah just doesn’t need this right now. And as I started feeling angst about them being in my presence, perhaps even coming to my house, an overwhelming fear came over me. Now hold up…wait a min! I’m not ’bout to let n-e-body make me fearful in my own house….where I pay bills (see my neck and eyes rolling lol?). I already gotta take those pills…this may be the wrong time for them to fool with me lol. My angst is turning to anger, and I feel old Washington Park (my ‘hood) rising up in me. I thought to myself, “I could just haul off and kick their arse and get it over with….swing first, talk later!” But what could I physically do to them that would give me back thirty plus years? What could I strike them with hard enough that would erase the pain and influence their crap had on me? God, why can’t I just forgive them from afar…why you gotta let them come into my space?

Yeah, I hear You…I don’t like it right now, but I hear You..and I will submit. There’s a healing and a level of forgiveness for me that I’m catching up to…it already exists NOW, I’m on my way to it….where I can be in the same room, and it won’t even matter to me anymore. I won’t feel the anger, pain, sadness, shame….and neither will my physical body be in an uproar about it either. Total healing. Total wholeness….from the Great Physician who never loses a patient. He hasn’t lost me yet….in the meantime, I’m grateful for the promise. In between time, I vent.

Spurts for Father’s Day

Gotta chance to cry last night. No, it’s not that I need an appointment, but those 3min felt good. A quickie is all I have to give myself. All I have had since January. It’s been 5mos since Dad passed, I’m on my first Father’s Day without him, and for some reason….I still have nothing but….spurts.

I have to fight this self-conscious thinking, you know, people outside my head telling me I’m not grieving right. Maybe I just don’t know how…being the virgin at this that I am. And let me stop and thank God for the lack of practice right here…I’m not trippin’ by any means *smile*….Just wish I knew….how.

How to have that cathartic cry where, when it’s all over, I feel cleansed…it’s all over….I’m good…I feel better. How to remember him without losing my breath under this enormous weight of grief. How to delete his name and contact information from my cell and house phones. How to ward off images of his cremation. How to put his picture back up on my mantle, instead of laying it down. How not to let the same memory that contributed to his brain cancer, debilitate my health. How to clean out all of his medical and burial papers from my favorite planner (no wonder I’m not very organized right now…can’t crack that joker open for nothin’). And the big one….how to interact as family with Dad’s side…my sisters, bros, uncle here in the ‘A’….AHHH! I can’t be around them at length…our interaction boils down to occasional e-mails, texts, and myspace messages here and there right now. They only remind me. And I don’t want to remember.

But, neither do I want to forget.

The text from my lil sis read, “wat u doin for fathers day”. Six words almost broke me in half. Folks, I’m not there. Not another memorial. I can’t do the sit around eating shrimp fried rice (one of Dad’s faves) and laugh and joke about how funny Dad was. I never responded to her text (by accident…my “I dunno….” was still in ready state in my cell, never sent-oops). I won’t start assuming what she thought, but…she didn’t text again. I wonder, though, if that was weird for her. Why? Well, I don’t know if there’s a word in the dictionary which means “daughter who takes over the patriarchs role and responsibility”, but that’s what I was in the course of things. Leaned on, looked to, responsible for, and tugged on more ways than a million….in addition to having my own kids and husband….not to mention, having to deal with “their” re-appearance. Now, I’m non-existent. Barely returning phone calls/texts. Ya’ll figure it out. Guess my needle is past “E”….bone dry, without the slightest fume to make ANYbody cough. I need to be renewed, refreshed…and 5mos just doesn’t seem to be cuttin’ it….

I tried bouncing this whine routine off hubby…nothin’ doin… “don’t be mad cos I’m not jumpin’ on the bandwagon…You can’t stop being family cos of what happened. I didn’t pick you, God picked you for this.” Whatever. Who asked him anyway…..for all that Truth !

Well, a sistah’s still gotta lot to let go. I’ve still got some thoughts to change. There are still places to liberally apply non-resistance (my current kick). It will be interesting to see where I am next month, next year when I re-read this post. I hope to be like, “girl, you made it through it all!” I’ll be farther along, closer, my heart will be lighter, and I will be healthier too….minus the pain and anger. Felt good to be real with what I was feeling, and now, allow transformation to continue.

In the meantime, spurts help…. 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…..:-)

Zero Reference

My thoughts won’t be still, but that’s just a beautiful sign of life. Still though, searching for understanding and a point of reference that, in all actuality, does not exist…let’s just say I’m trying to be chill about things….maybe rambling will help a bit.

So, after going on a doctor’s strike since the three diagnosis in ‘06, I’m back in the game. Why the strike? Two parts shock and one part denial, I guess. Might seem kinda backwards to some. But I don’t like doctors, their offices, hospitals. It’s just something about the smell (lol)…infirmities in the air…people suffering…too much! I got my fill of doctors and hospitals caring for Daddy…talk about strength with no muscles. My personal strategy was to try this health thing holistically…address the mental and emotional dis-ease that causes disease. Was two years of work enough to uproot the damage lived with for thirty? Hmm…

Let’s go back and find out. I’ve had 3 visits over the last 3 weeks…tests, ultrasounds, samples, blood work (needles — boo!). Been worked over like a rant mule, but thorough is good…get all you need so we can get this over with.

The results came in this week with good news and news just ripe for a ‘lil Faith…that’s me speaking through my Faith megaphone… “The results of my next tests will show those cells to be normal. All deficiencies will be brought to a balanced level. God is not scared of suspect (diagnosis) #4, either! The cyst has SHRUNK {good news…thank you Jesus!}, and the same thing can happen to the small tumors found.” Ashe.Selah

All in all…God be praised!! There’s a worse out there that I am graciously spared from experiencing. I am thankful.

But let me keep it real for all my other humans out there. I didn’t leave the docs office with this news shouting from my faith megaphone. Heck, I was (am) straight stunned! Deer in the headlights! What do you mean?! I’ve cried (tearing up now), I’ve questioned. I hate this! I’m mad! Why? Two main reasons. One, I have zero point of reference with sickness. My come from is one of never having a cavity, broken bone, no major illnesses from a child to ‘06…healthy as an ox! Reason two has a choke hold on my understanding. How is it, that I can live life as a fake and fraud, got it together, all childhood crap dead and buried (so I thought) — and live a HEALTHY life? Man, I say yes to God, ok I’ll face it, I’ll let you change me, I want to heal, I’ll be your ambassador of forgiveness…and all freakin’ HELL breaks loose in my body…what the?!

Being a holistic MD, the doc tells me, “it will make a big difference in your health when you get the severe emotional pain under wraps…” Her words shook me, because before I walked into her office, it WAS under wraps (wasn’t it?). I was feeling rather strong, cool. Had my two years of work badge on nice and shiny lol..coming to her for the physical…thought I was pretty alright with things. Until. She got to the emotional health section of the New Patient app, and asked me about the sexual abuse, how old, how long, relationship with family….ahhhh. (I remember filling out that app at home and joked with hubby…like ‘oh boy…here we go, but it’s cool’. That’s how strong I was feeling, taking it light, no biggie, right?) How in da world I went from taking it lightly, to straight up loosin’ it in that exam room…you woulda thought the doc slapped me in my face lol. Man, I was so embarrassed…I shocked myself…{sigh}

So, I guess this is where I have to stop being spoiled (confession: I’m used to things coming easy to me) and give myself (more) time. Stay gentle and patient with myself. This is a huge learning process for someone who’s lived the opposite…I was pretty extremely hard on myself for things..everything was my fault…you can imagine the drill. The doc was on key, “be sure to LOVE yourself and get the LOVE you need…” My mom told me yesterday, “you have to STOP being so strong, and learn how to grieve.” Of course she was referencing Daddy, but it’s like too hard to even deal with him yet, because of the long line of other crap.

Anyways…had to get some of that out. So, here’s my goal in all this right now…Do my personal best to: Embrace the opposites (positive for negative, life for death). Speak God’s words, when I want to say otherwise. Make Him and keep Him bigger than the situation. Fake it till you make it. Feel it when you don’t feel nothin’. Say it UNTIL your spirit believes it, lives it. Do what the doc orders. Follow the new (stricter) diet. All while knowing, God wouldn’t bring me this far on this journey to leave me now….Ashe.Selah.

You Almost Killed My Daughter!

Gotta chance to attend a pretty cool party this past weekend…GNO baby (girl’s nite out)! It was my first outing in about a year. Feeling much stronger, workin’ my cuteness, I was ready to come out and play a little…ready to be around folks. Saw many faces I hadn’t seen in ages…some professional acquaintances, others more personal connections — for instance, an old friend’s mother. Now, this friend I speak of, let’s call her Amy…we’ve had no verbal in over a year, but we used to be tighter than tight…she was an extension of my family…even called my Daddy “Daddy” (Amy and her mom sent kind condolences when Dad passed in January).

When I arrived at the restaurant, there were only two seats available…one holding a sweater, the other empty by Amy’s mom. “Hey!…is that seat taken?” No response from moms, but another chic says, “Sure girl, sit here.”

I greet moms, we have a little small talk, but something is different. Ever feel tension and strain, but nobody’s touching you? Ever read body language so clear…like the words “I really don’t want to be around you” are etched on the person’s arm in fluorescent colors? Last I knew, moms and I were cool. We’ve spoken to each other since Amy…even had her over to the house for dinner and hang time. No need to change our relationship because Amy and I aren’t close anymore, right?

Background. It would take a book (lol) to give the full history of me and Amy. So, let’s try some key bullet points for the sake of time and space:

- I loved Amy like Jonathan loved David. We were the best of friends, shared some of our deepest stuff, supported each other, cried, laughed with each other for years.
- Not only was she family, Amy was an extension of me to my kids.
- The pattern for any misunderstanding?…If I expressed, “Amy, I really didn’t appreciate it when you…” or “Chic, that ticked me off when…”, her response was not one of ‘hear out’ or ‘work through’, but a consistent “Well, I’ll just disconnect myself from you…” or “I don’t like your tone, but I see it’s intentional…you know I have no problem cutting you off…” My response? Most times, I backed down for fear of losing my friend (remember that fear of abandonment I mentioned in the last post?…an ugly ‘lil something)
- A misunderstanding, involving her moms and half of a story, was the final straw. She stormed out of my house pretty much with a “hava nice life” attitude.
- What did I do? {Covering eyes in shame} Well, for a year I did everything I knew to win our friendship, closeness back….called, sent letters, encouraging words, apologies (for what?), cards, flowers, cash (hundreds…yep). All received thankfully, but it didn’t fully ease her pissocity, or awaken an interest to really reconnect, start over. A year, people. Energy wasted. Time gone.
- I finally woke up…we’re either going to be girls, or totally disconnect on all points (didn’t she already say that, silly).
- In the end, she didn’t budge, and neither did I. U wanna disconnect? I let go. Disconnection from me caused little discomfort. However (key point, here), she wanted to maintain the same closeness she had before with my children. Huh?
- During these rough times, both of us were experiencing serious life storms (independent of us), which could have taken us out emotionally and physically.

Now, let’s return to GNO….

Mom prepares to leave the party early. During our small talk, she told me how she had just gotten back in town, was tired, etc. Before grabbing her things to leave, she puts her hand on my arm – the lambasting begins, venom flows. “I want you to know something.  You almost KILLED my daughter (last year)! She loved them babies and YOU just TOOK them from her. It was too much for her, liked to kill her. She was already going through <insert emotional challenges, critical surgery>…she almost DIED…she didn’t deserve what you did on top of everything else…well, I really hope it was worth it to you. Those babies didn’t have to be a part of you guys’ issues….YOU almost KILLED her!”

Folks, I cannot explain the range of emotions that ran through body. A painful numbness entered me. On one hand, I felt sooo bad for Amy’s pain, her ordeal. The corners of my mouth started to quiver and my throat got tight. Man, I can’t start all this crying…this was my girl’s party. My first effort to socialize in a year. Happy happy, joy joy, right? For a brief moment, I started to internalize what moms was projecting to me. Hold up, wait a minute. Hadn’t I already cried enough about Amy? And now her mom has the audacity to try to blame me, scapegoat me for Amy’s sorrows..for almost killing her?..someone I loved as much as I did (and do) and tried so hard to make things right?

People, when God heals you from zero self-worth, pride disguised as self-love, needing others because they’re more valuable than you…He means for it to stick! For me? Even Especially when it comes to Amy, my benediction of chasing folks and judging my worth by if others stay. Heck, I matter, too!

Suddenly, a woman that I cared for and held to such high esteem became just like any other enemy to my inner harmony, my balance. I put my face two inches from hers and said, “those babies ARE a part of me….and where were you when I was suffering <insert emotional and health challenges>, you think Amy’s pain, suffering, her wishes trump everyone else’s?…I’m supposed to let her walk over me for the sake of who you and everyone else thinks she is?” To which she responded, “I’m just being a mother”. “Well, I’m a mother too!!! Ain’t nobody going to treat me as they will, can take me or leave me, and expect me to nurture their relationship with MY children!…there’s two sides to every story!” Her response, “well, I’m not going to get into all that…I don’t know all of what happened between ya’ll”. What the?

Approx. a month after total disconnection, I found out that Amy had solicited a mutual friend of ours to give my kids messages and hugs from her (of course, Amy didn’t tell the friend our dynamics had changed…might have defeated the purpose, ya think?). I called Amy on it, she apologized, forgiveness granted — but trust severely bruised (why sneak thru the back window when I’m holding the front door open?). I wonder what moms would say to this (no plans to tell her, though)…”Well, you drove her to desperation, and left her with no other choice.” I wonder if that would have been my fault too. Gimme a break.

If I had to do it all again, there’s not much, if anything, I would change about my decision. I won’t allow anybody who willfully disconnects and cuts me off to have personal influence over my children. Madness.

I’m curious…esp. parents out there. Ever experience something like this? What would you have done, felt, decided in any of this drama (and yes, I know, Amy’s side of things matters too)?

Charity Begins

For me?….at the source of my deepest cuts and abrasions. With family. It’s starting to make sense why God has me where I am…and why the miracles that brought me here were so strategically designed. Two years of preparation, discovery, revelation, recovery…..ahhhh! To be a mouthpiece for Love and Forgiveness…Wow! He wasn’t playing. It does cost everything. Everything I don’t need and learning to go.

To say the past 2 weeks have been dramatically hectic is an understatement. By the time I finished lighting fires under folks in Cali — doctors (who avoid doing actual work like HIV, and could care less when you say I need this benefit form filled out ASAP), nurses (who don’t seem to understand when I say bathe Daddy everyday…I mean it!!!)…then here in the A…trying to find Daddy an apartment, visiting nurses, etc…..let’s just say there were times I really didn’t know if I was coming or going. And it’s not like the nightmares helped in the rest department either.

But, with all of the drama and issues….can I tell ya? God is still faithful!! I’m talking in the 11th hour (imagine an ill parent’s discharge date approaching…and s/he has no where to go yet!), God blessed Dad with a place to stay, hospice approval for nurses, medical equipment & supplies…stuff I have no experience with or even knew where to start looking for help. Daddy will be out of that hospital facility and back home in a week. Am I nervous…you betcha! But as a dear mother-friend of mine told me, “You will KNOW, as you GO”.

I just hope I won’t have to ‘go’ alone. Will fam step up to the plate with me…be open to sacrifice and compromise for Dad…or will they leave me hanging..”you got it girl…you’re doing a fine job.” Or…”I can’t spare an hour at the airport to help pickup Daddy…it’s my anniversary.” Lawd, is it starting already! It’s my birthday weekend next week…you don’t see me making excuses. (Had to get that vent out.)

Part of me wants to be open-minded, patient…everyone doesn’t respond to a dying parent the same way. Huh? The other part of me wants to put my foot in unnatural places LOL! Kick some sense into a sibling.

Oh well. I’ve gotta remember that I’m chosen to Love. And charity does begin at home. But, guess what?…home is not ‘Source’. And what others can’t or won’t do — is not my problem. I can only be responsible for Me and my choices. The rest will be filled in for us somehow. He didn’t promise this would be an easy journey, but He did promise that everything I need to see it through to the end — is already in me. I just have to LET it be. LET. One of the most powerful, 3-letter words I love!