Listen and Empathize

I have to admit that I have often felt rebuffed when my married (generally older and married and married a long time) friends try to tell how hard marriage can be or advise me to be happy Single, because I have sometimes felt that the conversation shifted from my grief about being single to their complaints about being married.

At times when I’ve been the most anxious about being single, I didn’t want to hear the downside of being married. I didn’t want to hear about 2 am feedings or rebellious kids.

I wanted to hear, “I understand.” Or “I’m sorry you are hurting.”

“I know you want a husband and children. Your religious leaders told you not to have children before marrying, and here you are in your 40s, single, no children.  You did as you were told.  Now you’re having to face the possibility of not seeing these dreams for love and family come to pass. I’m sorry.”

That’s just my experience.

Tangled Intentions

If I were to write about anything right now,

I guess I'd write about love and woes and b$&ches and hoes,

Players and thots, and dudes who smash a lot...

Integrity and intentions, knowing those who lack them are too many to mention...

And why a man would part ways with a good woman after many days

Without honesty or a warning,

Wondering why he would leave her stomach burning

With loss and regret

For times they haven't shared yet...

Why the sun shines to the left of me,

And why these lames keep getting the best of me...

I'd cry, I'd scream, I'd bellow then whisper

And die 10 ragged deaths cause all I want is the right mister..

Because too many try and too many fail

Unwittingly unwilling to stop chasing that tail...

Just leave me to my thoughts and my own misery

And then join the list of lames who can no longer fw me.

Kiss my @ss and as you leave, lock my door tight,

So no more of you fools can come and dim my light.

You easily swerve right and cause so much pain,

Leaving cracks in hearts, dents in souls, and stains on brains.

You suck - the entire lot of you all, 

Who come in and out of our lives like we're bathroom stalls.

WTF do you think this is? A dirty toilet for you to come sh&@ in??

A ruined psyche as you exit the room with a sly grin. 

You only care about yourself, and that's all bad.

You really ain't no better than a deadbeat dad. 

I'd rather waste my time watching junk TV

Than let your @ss come through and make waste of me.

I deserve better and you know it's true.

You ain't on my level if you think this is ok to do.

Why why WHY must it be like this?

When all I want is a rest from the shade and a modest share of bliss?

Just some moments of happy in this cess pool of life; 

For the right man to come along and not hesitate to make me his wife.

NOT their concubine, not their side piece, not Wednesday's piece of @ss,

Not just some "female," they see, they chase and wanna smash...

Do you scumbags even #get what's best about me?

Well, Hint:  It isn't my breasts, my thighs or what lies between my knees.

Neanderthal, unevolved, dumb @ss dude on my Facebook wall...

What do you have to offer besides a d&@$ and some b@lls?

Unlike you, I understand what's best of you is inside...

Your thoughts, you dreams, your intellect, your musings and your mind.

Court me with dialogue and thoughtful conversation,

Miss me with the begging, lying, womanizing, disrespect and faking.

If you don't change your method, you will keep on missing the mark,

Faltering, failing, falling; senseless stumbling in the dark.

I'm trying to help you--consider it a good deed.

You have #NoClue about what we as women really want or even need.

Love isn't forceful, selfish and doesn't seek its own,

But philandering and cheating are the ugly seeds you've sown.

Shaking my head in disbelief, one disappointment after the other...

It baffles me that you don't know--treat a woman like you'd treat your mother.

If the understanding escapes you because you are estranged from or hate your mom

Seek some help and wisdom, because that hate is a ticking time bomb.

Instead of loving and appreciating women as God's greatest gift

You treat us like trophies, sperm-receptacles, and only call us when you need a "lift."

You suck, you selfish b@stards. You aren't worth your own dust.

But since hate in my heart can kill me, a good purging is a must.

If somehow I can scrape the ugly out of this slowly beating heart,

Find my reprieve from anger, so the healing can start.

I don't know how I keep finding myself in these f&@!ed up situations,

Betrayal, broken promises, overwrought with desolation.

Variables vary, choices are chosen; there's so much to this lesson.

How can I see the truth with eyes that are clouded by their deception???

These pangs manifest in malities, physical suffering and pains,

My deep longing to break cycles and stop chasing runaway trains.

Why am I always 2 steps behind y'all, begging you to love me?

I'm a woman of class, substance, and unequivocal quality.

I'm a rare find and I DON'T NEED you

And if I can just convince myself that I deserve love no matter what you do.

If I can find someone who will love and cherish me for me,

See the value in this genuine, loving, loyal melancholy?

Who am I to try to find my value in your glance

While you look over me, past me, at someone else, perchance?

She's not prettier, smarter, or nicer than me.

She's not classier, sexier - she doesn't have a better body...

Is it because I'm too nice? cause

I've given you plenty to respect

Or how bout is it because y'all refuse to grip, grab and get your issues in check?!?

You gotta know, kiddo, you can't win when you're doing too much:

You'll be cheated, depleted, stomped on then called thirsty and such.

I've learned that when you've always got your hands open to give,

It becomes expected--no, required that that's how you live.

Once you've shown yourself to be a giver, you can never give enough.

Someone's always got their hand open, expecting you to fill it with stuff.

People act like you owe them, and even when it's your time of need, 

They demand you do for and give to them; they mandate your words and deeds.

What must a person do to receive just a portion of what they have given and done?

Who steps up and says to them, "You're the deserving one!" ?

And not just words, but actions; who lives up to their lines of gallantry?

Where is the strong arm of support and unending chivalry?

I know he's out there, probably wondering where I am,

Watching, waiting, reaching, too; he's been hurt and disregarded like I've been.

Until then, is it okay that I want no more of y'all?

No approaching, no bulls&@$, no fake @ss calls.

Can't take not one more lackluster, disappointing pursuit,

Ain't about nothing, clueless, foolhardy man in a shiny suit.

No more phony @ss lines about me needing "a real man,"

No more losers and users, jack@sses and charlatans.

I've had a lifetime of dating, love woes, and hoes, 

Pimps liars and smokers of dro

Fake, half-wit and full of pure bulls&$@,

Tragic and magic, busted broke @ss and full of tricks,

Full of logic, still in the closet,

Drunk and high, all a lie,

Wife's at home, "it'll just be a loan,"

12 baby mamas, so full of drama,

Weed in their car, won't leave the bar,

Mugshots and gunshots, love the strip club, hoes and thots,

Hotboys and trap thugs, moochers and mean mugs,

Takers, breakers, thieves, rapists and soul shakers, 

I can't take anymore.

Please, don't ask my name; don't ask for my number.

Don't ask if we can get to know each other better.

The answer is no. And don't ask again.

Don't ask me have you seen me before or if I have a man.

Don't beg or call me b!tch cause I won't tell you my name.

The way these dudes carry on is a dumb @ss shame.

Don't chase, pursue, holler or yell,

When you know your intention is to take me str8 through hell. 

##

Human frailty, human error and mutual feelings

That’s just like me. Just my style—to be able to artfully make others think that I’m all together, when I’m really falling apart inside.  I was raised with pride; not arrogance, but “put-your-best-foot-forward, never-let-em-see-you-sweat” pride. The kind of mentality that says, “don’t allow people to see your weaknesses."

"Hold it together, even when you feel your world unraveling, because people don’t really care about you. They’d rather see you fail and fall to the wayside. Don’t give ‘em the satisfaction.”  I can’t tell you how many of those speeches I’d heard over the years; from my Mom, my friends, mentors, teachers… And for the most part, I’m glad I was taught this mentality; it kept me from excessively wearing my feelings on my sleeve, and helped me to be strong, even when I didn’t feel like it.  There have been a few times, however, when I wanted people to leave me alone, let me feel what I felt, and allow me to express it the way I wanted to.  Not often, but sometimes. 

There are few times when my biggest disagreements with those close to me centered around the fact that they took issue with the way I handled something that had happened to me.  I never allowed myself to publicly be an emotional, blubbering mess, but during the times when I felt weaker than others, I wanted the freedom to let off some steam, complain, whine, cry, bitch and blubber, at least privately.  And when those closest to me wouldn’t allow that, I was furious.

In all fairness, I think my friends and family refused to allow me to give way to the full tilt of my emotion, partly because they didn’t want me to allow that momentary weakness to overtake me. They didn’t want me to give in to those feelings and fall completely apart.   They knew somehow that I had the capacity to hit full-blown rock bottom if I gave in too much to those raw emotions. And they were right.  For me, an unchecked worrisome thought, a moment of untamed anger, can send me on downward spiral that could last days, weeks, months.  Tenacious and stubborn, for me, an unharnessed feeling can lend itself to conspiracy theories, persecution complexes, internal tantrums, and days spent in gloomy depression.

But, because I was conditioned to present a well-groomed front, I have played a character who looked like me, talked like me, acted like me, yet had everything together.  The person I presented was one who was calm, mature, even-tempered and easygoing.  I came to realize that I was only acting a role – that inside, I hated people for their inconsistencies, ineptitude, irresponsibility, selfishness and prejudices. Poised between realism and pessimism, I have fought to maintain a positive view of both myself and humankind, while secretly believing the worst about both.  I had hoped that people wouldn’t disappoint me and let me down; yet each new hurtful situation wrought an “I told you so,” from deep in my heart.

Now, I am at a different stage in my life.  I still loathe inconsistencies, ineptitude, irresponsibility, selfishness, prejudice…only I am trying not to hate the people attached to those loathsome qualities.  After all, it’s human nature, right? Only, to be human, and be subject to humans, yet not hate humanity and human nature is probably nothing short of miraculous.  And I’ll be honest—I don’t know how to do that yet. After all the rigors of young adulthood that I’ve experienced thus far, my tolerance is low for people’s lackluster behaviors.  I haven’t the patience nor energy to try to hold on to one-sided friendships or relationships.  I’m past explaining myself.  I’m over the lies.  I’ve had it with the selfishness and broken promises. Yet, here I am, with a lifetime still left to live—with human beings who are sure to act in in these less than desirable ways.

Do I have reasons to dislike people? Yep. Plenty.  Does that mean that I have a right to dislike them?  Maybe—depends on how you look at it.  Are these negative feelings serving me or my body well? Absolutely not.  So, what am I gonna do? I have no idea. None.

For nearly the past 2 years, I have been battling a mysterious condition that has interrupted my mobility, and has, at times, made it difficult for me to walk.  Symptoms have mirrored that of MS, lupus, rheumatoid arthritis, and many other conditions, but tests for these diseases were negative.  For almost a year and a half, I have been frustrated, confused, afraid, and angry.  Angry at my body for being elusive and uncooperative; angry at my insurance company for not covering the tests I needed; angry at my job for not paying me at times; angry at my supervisor and co-workers for spreading my private health information amongst themselves; angry at family and friends for abandoning me when I needed them most; angry at my neighbors for constantly knocking on my door for one thing or another, when it was hard for me to get out of bed; angry at my property manager for not fixing the floor in the house we were renting—which caused me numerous slips/near falls and more pain; angry at my doctors for sending me back-and-forth between them because no one could find the problem; angry at associates who unfriended me on Facebook, lied on me, bullied me, all because I couldn’t do “normal” things like go to dinner with them (how much of a jerk do you have to be to kick someone when they’re already down??); angry at people for being insensitive and asking dumb questions when they saw me struggling to walk; angry at people who promised to help in one way or another, but then changed their mind and didn’t tell me; angry at people were supposedly friends, who never called, texted or messaged to see how I was doing…..

I guess I could write pages of offenses, reasons and instances where people didn’t respond to my need the way I hoped they would.  So, does that make me a bitter, angry bitch?  God, I hope not.  But, the best way to describe me right now perhaps would be to say, “she’s nice, but she got an edge on her soul.”  Do I like that description of myself? Nah, not really.  However, I don’t know how to undo the frustration, the hurt, the anger and the pain—actual, physical, wretched pain that I have felt and still sometimes feel.  Pain that no one can see or feel, and that very few seem to understand.

My brother and I talk quite a lot about life; we share our observations through texts and phone calls each week.  For example, I might text him and say “People suck,” and he’ll text me back and say, “Yep.  Sure do.”  And just like that, we’ve summed up our collective opinion of human nature. Let’s face it: on  some days, and depending on who you encounter, how they act, and how you process their behavior—people do suck. We are rude, selfish, inconsiderate, arrogant, prejudiced, and full of hatred. 

My current quandary is one for the ages:   how do I live in this world, interact with people, make connections and friendships with them, open myself up to exchange with them, when I want to minimize my exposure to the human qualities that I hate so much??  And if by chance I do face heartbreak or disappointment, how do I keep from tossing the experience into a pessimistic pile of inward “I told you so..”?

As long as you’re alive, it is possible to like, love, enjoy, and yet be hurt by people. The key is to live a life  full of positive possibility instead of always inwardly expecting the worst from people.  The last thing I want to be is a “negative Nancy,” and I don’t feel that I am completely negative.  Right now, I just think people leave much to be desired, and I feel leery of approaching interaction with anyone new except something for shallow – small talk, a compliment, a random act of kindness. Just don’t need to depend on anyone who’s going to fail with flying colors, on even the most basic of human courtesies.  Because when humans fail, we fail big time.

Now, I’m not saying I’m perfect. I don’t always do things right, but there are certain things that I will not do. I will not take advantage of someone; I’m not a user.  I won’t lie on or defraud anyone.  I am not a cheat or a cheater.  I am not rude, mean or a bully.  I am a giver.  I love to give to people, but mainly strangers.  I tried to be giving in relationships, but people don’t seem to be able to reciprocate or not take advantage.

I think that friendships are like implied contracts, as in there are certain things that people, by virtue of being friends, should do, like show concern; call or text you or at least respond when you call or text them; listen when you need someone to talk to—they should reciprocate and show themselves to be a friend, not just receive your friendship toward them. And by “friend,” I don’t mean a casual associate, a friend on social media, or an acquaintance you know little about. I mean someone you spend or have spent time with, have shared experiences with.  People should not expect friendship from you if they are not willing to extend friendship to you. For instance, if you can call me to talk about a situation you are dealing with, but I can’t call you to share my worries and woes, then we are not friends.  I am your friend, but you are not my friend.  No time for those kind of relationships anymore.  Fresh out of effs for those.

So, this is me, being real and saying that I’m filled to the brim and have no more room for human disappointment.  In the end, people will choose themselves, their substance, or their sins over you, every time.  This is me, being transparent to say that I’ve been angry—pretty pissed off—for too long now, and it’s time to change. Because it’s been killing me, literally, to fight to keep my anger toward a bunch of worthless humans. I’ve been sad, hurt, livid, lonely, and now….

I can’t be any of those things anymore. The cost is too dear.

This is me, hair on fire, waiting on the train. I lost my cool, lost my patience, blew up in a ball of anger, all while standing here, looking at you with a calm, straight face. I’m good at the game; I just don’t wanna play no more. 

The people whom I love, I love to life and forever beyond it.  The people who are on my “you ain’t s&%t” list? Lifting a prayer to ask God to help me clear the list, cause it’s way too long. I don’t want a list at all, but life and loss has added one up for me. Sorry…apologies.

To the ones who do care, I know that you do, not because of your words, but your actions. Through this trial and triumph, the thought of you still drags a smile across my furrowed brow.  To the ones who don’t:  the feelings are now mutual, my guy.

The Choice and The Cost

Single, 43, never married. No biological children. Always wanted them.

Finished my undergraduate degree years back, pledged as a returning student in undergrad, then graduated. Started my career, traveled, mentored, godmothered, etc. Tons of positive life experiences under my belt.

I’ve always been a person that people trusted with their children and thought I would make a good mom.

I was however, determined, if I could help it, not to have a child with a man who didn’t possess the attributes of being a great father, because my father was not. I was not going to subject an unborn child to some selfish man, just cause I “liked” him (if I could afford it).

Not having children, I’ve encountered sooo many people who acted like something was “wrong” with me because I didn’t. Men and women alike have assumed I was barren, picky or crazy. And they were bold enough to tell me as much.

So many people told me I would “run out of time,” and that I’d better “get started.”

However, as much as I’ve always wanted children, I did not feel that was reason enough to haphazardly step into parenthood, if I could avoid it.

Sometimes the shade and innuendo is all too much, but I guard my rights and reasons for my choices too much to allow myself to get swept away in public opinion and propaganda.

I try to find ways to give to mothers who are struggling to raise their kids and let the blessedness of giving drown out the screams of criticism.

SOULkiss

SOULkiss
 -Copyright 2003


in the produce aisle of the local grocery store,
jam-packed with holiday shoppers
she was
reaching for the last bag of oranges,
as he reached for the same citrus-filled bag.

Hands touched in a moment, bashful.
when their eyes met, he traveled, floating, back to
the beginning of time where he first met her.

In his split-second daydream:

A sensual soulkiss found
his mouth melting her like hot sugar,
the scent of her being, familiar feeling,
because, somewhere inside, he knew her already.

He recognized the landscape of her soul, as it matched his own.

Could it be that spirits know their mate
before beings know face?
Sneaking suspicion of recognition;
another space, when time binds hearts
and hands reach endlessly for each other.

Gazing in his eyes inside the crowded grocery store,
She thinks he reminds her of someone she met
a long time ago.
Or was it a dream?
She tastes sugar and smells oranges...

In the produce aisle of the local grocery store...
in meeting her, he has met his other half.
They share the bag of oranges,
and the sweet bliss of the soulkiss.

Hold on...

amidst frustration, the pain, the bitter disappointment and tears...

still...

Hold on. 

https://youtu.be/NR8igSehRzI

Sprint

People will avoid you like the plague when loss, pain, illness or hardship strikes.  It's as if they're afraid your brush with chaos is "contagious," like they will catch turmoil from being around you. 

It's amazing to watch people sprint out of your life with urgent vigor, while crushing blows hit your life at every angle.  You stand there, stunned, tear-stained and shocked as their footsteps echo the dark path out of your life.

Those who once cried bitter tears into your sweater are running with feverish angst, to get away from your disaster as it unfolds.

Once the smoke clears, your stock goes up, and the pendulum swings back in your favor, people start walking back toward you, but 

it's a looong way back. 

By the time they decide you're worth hanging around with, the chasm between you and them has grown even wider, because you've grown.  You've now outgrown your need for them throughout the long tear-filled days you survived after they walked out on you. 

You're stronger, wiser, better.  You've matured past being needy, insecure and deficient. 

They try to bridge the distance, but it just isn't the same. There's an unspoken strain, a stain from when they abandoned you in your darkest hour.  

The scourge is now gone; you're no longer tainted goods, but you are more protective of your space now.  You're guarding your time, your emotions, your headspace.  

You're in a different place now, and you can't apologize for it. 

What those who have left you don't realize is that you have graduated to a peaceful space that is no longer controlled by others' acceptance or rejection of you. You've learned to thrive even when the only voice you can hear is your own, and the only shoulder you can lean on is God's. 

Times have changed, and it's in the air. People can tell that you're better, and you're on the rise.  And here they come. 

But you've also changed.  For the better. You're not wounded; you're healed. You're not deficient; your whole. The hole in your heart left by their absence is closed up and no scar remains. 

You no longer depend on the support of finicky characters; your life is focused, directed and balanced. Clarity is yours, peace is yours; you are renewed.  

And the good news is, your life's happiness is no longer hanging in the balance of unreliable hands; you've taken yourself out of those shaky situations and learned to stand on sacred, solid ground. 

This is the upside of being let down, abandoned, discarded, disappointed, left for dead....

When you rise, you're standing up taller, confident in wholeness, and in the One who never leaves.