Can I get a witness?

There is a fear that I need to acknowledge. It is that as a decidedly single woman, I house within me the fear that I will always be single. There will be no witness to my life. There will be no audience to my triumphs nor safety in my trials. My oneness though elective it may have once been will become a choice I didn’t choose. Yet cannot undo.

After a while you can’t help but wonder, “is it me?” And after a while longer you have all but convinced yourself that it must be. There is no other reasonably logical explanation. I ask myself, “where is my lesson in this?” I dug for lessons for six months in silence while holding pieces of a broken heart in my other hand. I could just…I could breath through this hurt God if you just show me where’s the purpose in my pain? Give me a hint.

I would sit still and listen for my gut. Nothing. And another night I would fall asleep and wake up confused in my bed but somehow smelling him. Back there. And I would cry. I cried so much in that loneliness, that quiet, that yearning for the lesson that I cried myself numb. Scabbed over and thickened it took that much more effort to feel anything.

I just want to feel wanted. I remember thinking. Desirable. Dancing around the one word I was afraid to crave: loved. Love-ing had gotten me nowhere. Trusting in love had gotten my heart broken. And here we were the day before Valentine’s Day and me in red, out of breath in a shopping mall because he robbed me yet again. And again. And again.

Leaving, I told myself, was the best idea for both of you. Only on every lonely night I have to wonder if it’s true. Was there one, a someone I overlooked? Did I miss them? Did I miss love? Can I call it back? I need someone to care how my day went. I need someone to rub my back when I feel like crying. I need someone to turn off the lights with at night. I need someone who’s laugh is the third to my fifth. I need to be held. To be cherished. To be listened to. To be made love to. Don’t I deserve that?

Silence always makes me question it. What I deserve. Because when someone doesn’t even care enough to say goodbye or fuck off or anything? You feel insignificant. Maybe silence always hurt but it certainly does now, after. His silence was deafening and in it I filled the space with every negative thought one could think. I became the woman who could be walked away from. I lived up to unworthy.

So the silence from today triggered me. Caused me to have to acknowledge my fear. My fear that even though on most days I don’t believe it, that somewhere inside me lives the belief that I will never feel…

I can’t even write the words. Through my own tears. I know that happiness is my own work, I know. But I can’t love in a vacuum right? Will friendship be enough? Will my work? I need something that loves me back.

It is at precisely this point that I find myself dangerously close to negotiating. Deciding the things I wanted and needed in a partner were ready for mediation with the universe. Only that’s not right either. But how long? How long does one sustain and persist through the lonely before you set up permanent residence in solitude?

I don’t want to hear about timing. Or trusting. Or plans and purpose. I would just really like to feel loved again.


Who are the five people you spend the most time with? Do they say about you the things you want to communicate to the world?

Yesterday was Boo’s white coat ceremony up in LA, so I went to support her and a few of her friends from Howard were there. As we were walking back to the car she said, “I love that everyone looks so nice. It’s a nice reflection of me seeing the company I keep be so supportive, successful, and happy.” I thought about her statement off and on for a long time. It is a nice reflection of her and it was definitely clear after being with her friends for just a few hours what kind of person she is just based on the company she keeps.  It’s like that quote that is often attributed to Will Smith, “You can tell how far in life you’ll go by the 5 people you spend the most amount of time with.” So I started thinking about my own “5”.

Because some of my very best friends are not physically present I based my assessment of “spending time” on frequency and quality of time spent, be it physical or not.  Jennie (My Person) was #1 because typically we talk all day every day in some form, and it covers the span of conversation from online shopping to life goals and choices. Next is my friend Alex and same thing, we talk the majority of the day in some fashion and at least 5 days a week if not more. Annie is physically here and spend more time with her than most people in my life. One she’s my writing partner and two she’s a left brain to my right even though both of us had a fair amount of the other.  Lastly Rox and Nick. We have a group chat and usually when we hang out its a triad. I’m in other group chats but Rox and Nick are top 5 because we actually talk about the complex, difficult, and unsolvable stuff too.  While I have many other relationships these five are the ones that contain the most frequency and quality time spent.

AdobePhotoshopExpress_2014_12_15_11_05_28Then my next question, do [these people] say the things that you want to communicate to the world?  Absolutely without a doubt.  Maybe within the last three years or so I’ve been supremely intentional about with whom I invest my time. Such that, I cannot take certain attributes for too long: selfishness, inconsiderateness, complaining, entitlement, or rudeness. I’m sure there are more but those things in particular were characteristics in people I had to separate myself from. That being said, the relationships I did keep and do nurture are ones that allow me access to my full self. I can be the me who quotes Kanye or the me who quotes Carroll. I can be in deep thought about leadership or love and hip hop. I can be crying over Black men dying or Black men being assholes. No matter the situation, I can be however I feel. What does that say about these people? That they allow the space for authenticity. I will never have the groups of friends who all look alike or dress alike despite when I met them in life.I’m not attracted to a certain kind of person in that respect. I am, however, attracted to people who have a bit of “I don’t give a fuck” in their cups. People who are daring and bold; living exclamation points. They may not be wearing the same brands or trends, but they dress to express themselves. AND they appreciate self-expression in others. In fact, there is a certain amount of disdain for pleasing and in-authenticity OR indecisiveness which can sometimes look like inauthentic behavior. I will own that. These people are hard-working and successful, brilliant minds who make me want to work smarter, harder, and be better. Similarly, they expect that of me and others. There is really no room for mediocrity, but a deep sense of patience and support for those who are willing and trying in their becoming. Oh, and wine and whiskey. We all have that in common.

Sometimes people think that your family is the one that holds your context, that once you meet someone’s family you can understand their quirks, and charm better. I do not dispute that. I simply offer that maybe if you look at their 5 you can see the same thing. I think our people frame us; they provide a space of reference that we sit in that gives great meaning to who we are. I could not be in a relationship with someone who my mother did not like. I could also not be in a relationship that someone in my 5 did not like. That is how much I value their opinion and insight. I should mention, each of them also is an intuitive being. They have a strong inner voice and listen to themselves. They are each “doing their work” and have been for a long time. It is not to say I would immediately break up with someone but I would give serious pause and consideration to the relationship.

I certainly pride myself in my ability to choose good people and maintain quality relationships. If I expanded my 5 to 10 much of the same things could have been said about those five people, and the five after that. I’ve gotten to the point in my life where I do not want superfluous relationships or people around me. The friends that I have could have, at one point, all been considered “best”.  While Jennie is still my first phone-call, I really am at the point now where I can share my whole self with anyone I call friend and if I cannot, then it’s likely I limit my time with them.

My favorite word is freedom. It is what I work for and what I cherish more than anything in this world, perhaps even more than love though I think in many ways the two go hand in hand. And that’s what is communicated to the world by my 5. Freedom to be yourself. Freedom to live fully and on purpose. Freedom to laugh too loudly. Freedom to cry when it hurts. Freedom to make mistakes. Freedom to fall in love. Freedom to fly away when you need to.  Those are the people that frame me, and I am so thankful for their willingness to hold me up. I do hope that I add the same amount of joy to their lives that they add to mine.

The great balloon release

There was an episode of Desperate Housewives after Gabrielle had a miscarriage where her husband gives her a balloon. When she is ready to release the pain of losing the child, she releases the balloon. It is a metaphor for the beginning of her healing. Though I’ve never explicitly mentioned it, I had a miscarriage a few years ago. I did not know I was pregnant until things were going wrong. When my doctor confirmed my worst nightmare I dropped to the floor breath knocked out of me and emoting from a place deep within me from which I had never cried before. Healing from the loss of significant relationships and this residual causality was doubly difficult for me and so I chose silence. I hated my body for choosing this time to prove its ineffectiveness. I wondered about the implications for future pregnancies. I wondered what I would have done. How as much as the loss hurt, the consequences of a successful pregnancy would have been equally as lasting and life changing. I was filled to the brim with unanswerable questions which turned to saltwater and poured across my cheeks at night. To make matters worse, I was alone. Years later the next time I would be intimate with someone I would be taken back to the traumatic loss. I did a tailspin into what-ifs. Would it happen again? Was I safe enough? Desperate for a different outcome never to feel that hurt again sex felt off limits, dangerous, and far too vulnerable. Unable to subject anyone else to this me and unable to accommodate any more room in my wounded womb, I swore it off. Similarly, I would hold on to my tiny balloon strings one for each lover who wasn’t threatening one for the little butterfly who flew away and one for the me before all the hurt. Since then times come when it sits very heavy on my heart. The secret. The silence. The relationship. The telling. The tears. They come and arising from that same place, and I let them. Tonight I had a conversation with the one who knew me both before and after. In preparation for it I told myself “do not attach yourself to an outcome, hold true to what you need and do not let go.” And I did. Faced with the opportunity to bend, reshape myself into that girl. The girl who needed so desperately to be loved. To be validated. To be told she was beautiful despite and because… To be held and when the time came to be actively pursued. But I couldn’t. I was no longer her and I no longer wanted to be her. Her innocence held no appeal for me, my scars held my story. The girl before the butterfly would never ever be me again, and I could finally let her go.

IMG_7265.JPGOnly, when I opened my hand I let it all go. Who I was. Who they were. The little one who changed my life so much. And the balloons floated effortlessly into the horizon. Like Gabrielle, it is not an ending. It is a beginning. The commencement of my total freedom. No longer clinging to pieces of who I used to be, what I thought I was, or previous possibilities I now have two open hands. And it wasn’t the story I wanted to tell. The one of such pain and loss, a story I haven’t shared with so many important people in my life. Yet, it was the story that arrived as I sat. It is perhaps the most complex and difficult thing to grieve the loss of what could have been. To grieve possibility. That’s what my balloons were. This butterfly that could have been a baby. This man who could have been the one. This me who could have been happy with that life. But I am a different person now. And my possibilities are different. They are unimaginable. They are yet to arrive and complete surprises. They are pending…yet they are palpable. And I with two hands to hold it all.


I was driving home the other night when a song that reminded me of E came on. As I sang along two conversations occurred in my head. One in which I thought of him and us and our laughter, and another where I laid to rest those sounds and continued on up the 805.

I had a dream the night before of my wedding, my beautifully romantic Christmas wedding. My maids in white again the smell of trees and sweet berries. I remembered more this time. I remembered Kim, Ken, Jennie, Jewels, Tre, and Trin with me. Praying with me and standing with me. Laughing and toasting to love and laughter. I never walked down the aisle, but they were with me.

If I think about what it was like to love before I remember, more than anything the effort. The trials and the battles, the compromise. It wasn’t right. And more than I knew anything about my partners, I knew how I was going about the business of love was wrong. I imagine it needs to be as all meant things are, effortless. Divinely crafted and seemingly coincidental, only…not. I took this photo of myself before I went out last night.


I looked at my body. My belly cleverly hidden in my billowy, and feminine XL top. My thighs squeezed into shape in my size 20 jeans. I studied my curves and my twa hidden under a flowy lace front. I applied a thin layer of MAC “Media” and I love myself despite it all; and perhaps because of it all. I’ve never looked in the mirror and felt even remotely effortlessly in love with my reflection. The truth was not hidden from me, I knew what was there. And I was not hiding, obviously as I’m baring it all now. I was proud to take me out. Now if I’m lucky enough to find another who makes me feel the way I felt about my reflection last night…

And when I think back, I can reconcile a question I’ve pondered; yes I loved him. I loved him with every broken piece of me, however now that I am whole I want a whole love. There is nothing wrong with admitting that to yourself or to the world. I am not counting down the days or waiting with baited breath, I am living my life, fully. And when the time is right, it will be. Settling for self isn’t exactly settling. I feel incredibly blessed to be in a place where I can recognize and truly believe that.

Salvation from wandering and wondering

You know those relationship non-negotiables? For so many people I know one of those is rooted in religion; they would not marry someone who was not a believer in God.  I never really commented even though I suppose I never really saw myself with someone who held drastically different spiritual views than myself.  It was not until today when talking with NCS that I said with absolute conviction that my future husband has to be rooted in faith.

We were discussing a dysfunctional couple and why they are together when their actions (cheating, lying, etc) suggest that they really are not committed and I told her, “they fill a void in one another and that need gives each a sense of reason and purpose.”  It was then that it hit me just how dangerous it can be to not have these things independent of another person.  I remembered the words of Bishop TD Jakes,

There is nothing sexier than someone who knows WHO they are, WHERE they’re going, and WHAT they were created to do. People who are on point are attractive!

You have to know your purpose, you have to know why you are here.  I do not know anyone who can answer that question with without hinting to a higher power.  When you know yourself, you know God.

There are times in life when things make absolute sense. Having that last thought was one of them.  When NCS told me that not every relationship was like that, of course I knew that…but I told her that I just want honesty in my next/last relationship.  I want it to be honest like the absence of lies, honest. I do not want to lie to myself, I do not want to lie to my partner, I do not want there to be lies in our expectations of one another.  I want it to be honest because as I have recently realized and verbalized, honest living is the best living.

I think about the notion that all women just want to be saved…and I find some piece of truth in it but I challenge that instead of a white knight, it means so much more to be the one who saves yourself.  It feels remarkable to be able to look myself in the mirror and know that I deserve love. Not shards of love, not pieces of it, not loves 1st cousin lust or her brother infactuation…I deserve love. The purest of pure, richest of rich and rarest of rare–unconditional, concentrated, god-like love.

There is great freedom in that knowledge.

Because I can say I know these things, and because I have given them to myself first; I will be able to recognize them when they come from him because they came from Him.


Stiff and unbending is the principle of death.
Gentle and yielding is the principle of life.

Thus an Army without flexibility never wins a battle.
A tree that is unbending is easily broken.

The hard and strong will fall.
The soft and weak will overcome.

Tao Te Ching (76)

So I’ve been marinating on this theory for a while now…the unwillingness of women to submit to their men.  Yesterday BFFT asked why did submission have such a negative connotation, I guessed its due to our culture.  In America the person who works hard and who is unrelenting will receive their just dues. We cannot yield, we cannot compromise, we must overcome and conquer.  That is two-fold for women.  We have been made to surrender our feminine qualities in order to excel in the workforce.  Not be soft, not be emotional, not be nurturing, not be who biologically are.  If we speak in terms of social evolution, the traits of masculinity have been selected for in American culture so those wanting to survive are having to adopt them.

However…we have to look at the flip side, while women are dominating higher education and breaking barriers in terms of professional achievement, the American family is suffering, and has been for the last fifty years.  I don’t think its coincidental.  If a man wants a woman, and a woman has been forced into masculinity, why does he need her?  Why does she need him? In short, we are not submitting because we just don’t know how anymore…how to turn it off and how to still remain a sense of strength in that submission.  Re-read the above quote.

Its is from Taoism, obviously a facet of Eastern culture and not our own.  Yet poignant, soft overcomes hard.  Strength in yielding.  There is nothing wrong with allowing a man to be a man.  To be the head of the household.  To have the final say.  If you don’t trust him to do that much then why are you with him?  Submission is not weakness, it is-if anything- conviction.  It is saying that I trust, not only in your man, but in his respect for you, in your relationship bond, in God.  It takes a stronger back to bend and bow then stand again.

Balance. Right now the family is on the far end of the pendulum arc and the feminist movement and working women pushed it there, things will slowly move back towards the center.  I’m sure some women will fight me tooth and nail on this topic, and maybe you think I’m calling for total submission, no not at all.  I’m calling for a return (if there ever was) of trust, of true love, of honesty, of Men who are male and Women who are female.  An alpha male just is not going to be in a household with an alpha female, its a constant power struggle and as we discussed a while back, men need to be needed. If you constantly tell a man I don’t need you I can do “bad by myself” he’ll give you the opportunity.

P.S. for the believers…See: Sarah

Tales, Lies, and other such fibbery

I learned a long time ago the difference between someone lying to me and someone lying in general. I was discussing the movie The Notebook with my friend LK today…and she was saying that Allie was a liar because she was lying to Lon the whole time they were together knowing that she loved Noah.  I told her that I don’t think Allie was a liar, per say, I think Allie was lying to herself-not just to Lon. She was discrediting her feelings for Noah trying to trivialize them and make them seem like they weren’t as real as they were. Not to mention you know, inside, when someone doesn’t love you the way that you love them.  You can feel when your partner is unfulfilled or searching for something that you can’t seem to offer them.  You feel that. Lon ignored the signs just like Allie did. And some will argue that Lon didn’t know. When he asked “is everything ok” before she left, when he blew up her phone and then left to go find her…he knew. We always know.

Don’t text me no mo’

This little thing is a THORN in every single girls’ side.  For some reason…men have taken to wanting to text/bbm (thats Black.Berry Message) rather than pick up the phone and CALL.  I’m trying to figure out why this is.  Now granted, I’m not single…but I still have single girlfriends who complain about this issue.  One friend LT refuses to continue conversing with a guy if he texts her before calling her.  Another friend, NK doesn’t mind the BBM banter.  Friend AN’s boyfriend hates that she BBMs because he can’t BBM with her…and lastly and perhaps most infuriating, friend JH is “talking” to a guy who only BBMs and seemingly refuses to call her.

Now guys…girls are NOT going to want to call you.  I don’ care how new age independent she is, her friends all aren’t…and they’re going to speak up and ask WHY is she calling you so much when her phone lies dormant.  I also realize that texting/bbming/tweeting/skyping/gchatting/face.bookchatting is all common place now-a-days but honestly, we just want to hear your voice.  ON the phone, not the computer.  For some girls, its not an every night thing…just occasionally..and we don’t want to have to ask.  I can tell you right now if you’re not calling your girl she’s wondering why you don’t want to talk to her. Its just how we operate.

Deeds and I don’t phone much.  He hates it, I maxed out on it back in 7th grade, BUT if I want to talk to him no doubt about it he’ll call lol…I even called him once (red letter day because I’m not the caller…) Now as for friend JH, this guy is new…they haven’t been on a date yet, and everytime she drops a hint to “CALL ME” the guy…we’ll call him BBMarcus..well he won’t call!  JH has called BBMarcus and he’s said he was busy and would call back but would inevitably BBM.  JH is about at her wit’s end.  I suggested talking to him and asking whats the deal (in my years of study and dating I’ve learned that men don’t take hints very well…AT ALL).  My guess is BBMarcus doesn’t realize how close he is to being barred.

But really…WHAT is the deal?

Are you guys afraid you won’t have anything to say?

Do you not have a home and fear that we’ll hear the cars along the highway?

Do you have Sprint?

Can a sista get a phone call!!!???

Men and Money

So, more often than not we hear about girls liking and even expecting their men to spend money on them and take care of them right? Trick Trick Trickin…however lately in this world as it is now we’re hearing more about this independent woman.  One that doesn’t need, or want, a man to give her anything material because she can get it for herself.

I buy my own diamonds and I buy my own rings
Only ring your cell-y when I’m feelin lonely
When it’s all over please get up and leave

But really…coming as a woman who likes to consider herself reasonably independent who is in a relationship, I really don’t know how I feel about this notion.  I do need my man, as all women do.  Sorry, its just how I feel.  We weren’t made to be solitary creatures we need consummate companionship.   That being said I was speaking to a friend of mine about accepting money from my man and I am just completely uncomfortable with it.  My friend, K, explained to me that she’s having a hard time financially right now, and her man is being simply that.  Her support.  Why is it ok for our boyfriends to be there emotionally but not financially.  She went on to say that by choosing to struggle rather than accept that help would be to not let him love us wholly.  I went on to agree with her, adding that it makes sense…our men know our hearts. Boy did that make sense.  If I’m struggling with something Deeds is the FIRST and sometimes only person that I go to with the problem.  If I was struggling financially why would I not only not go to him first, but avoid going to him at all?  I sat with this for a long time and even discussed it with Deeds.  He agreed with K’s notion and said that while he wouldn’t be ok accepting from me, he would feel “some kind of way” if I didn’t feel comfortable coming to him.

She don’t need mine, so she leave mine alone
There ain’t nothing in this world sexy
Than a girl that want but don’t need me

I think about the dynamic of men and women today and I think its no wonder the family is what it is now.  Yesterday I asked Deeds “when is a man not a man?” he said “when he’s not needed.”  I don’t think that there is weakness in being submissive, or needing a man.  I don’t think that it makes me any less of a woman nor him any more of a man.  I also don’t believe that the glorification of women who don’t need men is something to be proud of.  If we don’t need each other what do we have?  I completely accept that I’m old-fashioned and conservative in my values but really…is it wrong to say I need a man? I need my man.  I don’t think so.  I think that gives me more power than those pretending they don’t need anybody.  *shrug*

**Dubb Note, moments after I published this post I went to work on another and the power of google lead me to this blog post HERE which I thought was pretty freaky…excellent points that coincide with what I wrote above, only she’s married so perhaps there’s a bit more weight to her opinion.  Also helps me to know that I’m in the right track in my relationship lol…God makes NO mistakes**

If it makes you happy…

So I was talking to a BFF about e-dating…is it still taboo? She was nervous because she’d met a great guy online, but didn’t feel comfortable telling people how she met because she said she thought it felt desperate.  Is it, I asked her?  I guess I have a different outlook on things. I figure yeah its not preferable but hell, “If it makes you happy…then it can’t be that bad.”  Just like the song says… Also *little known fact* my parents actually met online. I guess it must have been the first days of the internet lol, but my aunt and I were bored and made my mom a little dating profile and came across who is now my step-father of 16 years. Crazy right? At the time my mom could’ve killed me, but now my parents are very happily married. I think that 1 novel thing is you get to know the person without all the BS-now its a little more iffy as people have whole different internet lives lol…But I guess I don’t see it any differently than meeting up with your Twitter Friends (Twee-Ups) which I’ve done and they constitute the vast majority of my ATL going out friends, and BBM buddies :-)

Even my girl T said that she was going to try eharmony and see how it worked out. Completely encouraged her to do so.  IS it desperate? I don’t think so. I think there’s absolutely nothing wrong with pursuing something if you happen to hit it off with someone even if it was online…IDK maybe I’m 3008 lol :-)