Tired

How can any relationship, friendship, dating even family, function or have healthy longevity when one person thinks the other needs no one.

That’s how people seem to see me. I’m this statue that doesn’t need help, love, or other people to lean on. Just like a statue, people admire you, they wish they could be as “valued”, as “sought after”. They can appreciate your beauty, but they don’t really understand what made you that way. And we all know how things go when you have your favorite thing. You can’t put it down, and when you finally do, you never pick it back up.

But I’m not a statue. Me being a strong person has never negated my need for the same love, affection, or support that others receive. Me being strong is the result of not having those things, of being afraid, abused, mistreated, and told no one would ever love me. I’m strong because people were so unreliable and because I had to be; have to be.

I just don’t understand how people can look at that strength and use it as a reason to abandon me, treat me poorly, or constantly make me have to stand alone. Strength does not equate to heartless. It does not equate to not feeling pain or suffering. It just equates to me being able to ALWAYS make it through. That I ALWAYS fight.

Relationships: 1

I think a lot. Sometimes it’s superficial, sometimes it’s financial, but lately, lately, it’s been love and relationships. Not just the boyfriend kind, but all of them. I’ve been spending a lot of time in deep thought about the people who are in my life. Wondering if I’m holding on to any dead weight, if I need to let anything or anybody go. I’ve realized that I was holding on when there are multiple people in my life who are completely okay with passing me by or replacing me with someone else. I have realized that there are people I called my family who don’t know a single thing about my life, and I don’t know anything about theirs. WE aren’t family, maybe at some point we were, but I am a firm believer in having working relationships and not just worked to get and then got stagnant relationships. I don’t thrive in those kinds of anything. I need growth, I need to be present, need YOU to be present, and I need communication. Personally, anybody that can go weeks without speaking to me, is no longer someone I consider a vital part of my life.

 

This isn’t because I don’t love the person, but simply because I would rather spend my time, energy, and thoughts on people who make an actual effort to be in my life. Otherwise, I can love those other people as I have been; from afar. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, and that’s something else I’ve learned, we all have different highs and lows and transitions in our lives. Some people are balanced, some people are either all the way up or all the way down, and some people just don’t know how to be a good friend. There is a need for patience for all different types of friends, I just know I will no longer spend the time or energy to wonder why I’m so replaceable in certain people’s lives. I don’t care why, simply put, if it was worth worrying about it, I wouldn’t have the issue to worry about in the first place.

 

As far as dating, I expect the same thing. GROWTH. I don’t like being stagnant, I don’t like the same repetitive conversations. I want to look at him in a month and ask about something and learn about him. I want to look at him and be able to think “there’s so much to learn and get to know”. I don’t want to be with someone who’s boring, doesn’t communicate, and doesn’t show me who he is. I want to dive into the person I’m with. Your soul is something I want to be incredibly in tune with, and I want someone who’s looking for the same thing. He don’t want no girl who never wants to do anything, who’s okay with always being home sitting on her butt, who isn’t capable of taking care of herself, or who desperately NEEDS a man. I want someone who loves my lazy and adventurous side, and who’s hip that I am complex, complicated, beautiful, sought after, dedicated, loyal, crazy, annoying, clingy, and etc WITHOUT wanting to change me.

 

I’m not looking to be with someone who wants me to fit into a box. I am unable to be boxed. As I’ve told every ex, I am not something you can tame. I’m looking for someone to run wild WITH me, not ride my back until they’re tired of my crazy and then try to lock me in the cage until they’re ready for their next ride. He needs to run with me and learn to trust me when I run on my own. Speaking of trust…need that. I won’t ever again date someone I can’t trust. Done did that. I couldn’t trust him when we started, couldn’t trust him all 6 or 7 times it ended. It. Is. Vital.

 

I want a lot of things from my relationships. I have high expectations. But every person I’ve ever loved, whether friend or lover, has had the potential to meet those expectations. Some rise to that and some don’t. When I really boil it down though, I find that all of my expectations fit into a few topics; loving, trusting, good integrity, good character, seeking. Any and everything else I want can be put into those categories. And it’s not like I’m asking for perfection. I understand flaws, I am flawed, I will be flawed. What matters to me is effort. Telling me what you need, me telling you what I need, and US making sure those needs are met. To me…it’s very simple.

Down the Rabbit Hole: 1

I used to think that I was above wanting to prove something to my parents. I thought that I could care less about their approval. Maybe for somethings I don’t, but in my head, it was absolutely nothing. I wonder what it is that programs us, what is that pushes us to want to make our parents happy; albeit the bad things they may have done to us.

I ask myself ask that question all the time. And a part of me has always believed that my parents could be better people. Yet and still I hold on to the people they used to be. It makes no sense. It’s like on one side, I wanted better, but when they became somewhat better, I didn’t accept it. Everyday I wake up and expect them to still be the people that they used to be. It’s pathetic. Why pray for better and then not accept it or be open to it?

On the other side, you fight to be different. You fight to be a better person than they are/were. You fight to see all of their errors so that you don’t make the same ones. But what does that really do? For me it just hardens my heart towards them. I am isolated in my home and I’m not the only one. Each of us seem to have our own separate lives that we keep the other people in this house out of. I learned something about my brother that made me angry and sad, but where was I? He’s grown up now, and I didn’t help at all. I was too bitter that he was/is their favorite child. I was hateful towards him, spiteful even, for all of the beatings he never got that I did. For the lies he told that induced more beatings. For the love he seemed to get that I never got. For him KNOWING he was the favorite, and reminding me at the most inopportune moments that pushed me away from him. By the time he realized what he was doing, we already had a huge space between us. By the time I realized that mattered, I was away at college, wondering if he felt like I abandoned him.By then, it’s too late. We’re better now, but we let so much space get between us that we miss a lot.

I love my siblings, but I’ve noticed that my grasp of family, of sacrificing for my family is different. My other siblings, from my biological father, have a strong sense of family. Regardless of feeling sick or tired, they’ll still make time to go spend time with each other during gatherings. They’re there for each other, and they’re super supportive. They have this idea that no matter what, family comes first. It’s not like that for me, but I’m changing that. I see better, and I’m determined to open myself up to being more loving in my family. At some point, I have to stop allowing things from my past to hinder my growth. I have a lot to say, a lot I want to get off my chest. I know that’s what’s stopped me from moving on. I’ve always been that way. If I can’t say what I need I harbor whatever is bothering me so close that it becomes a part of who I am. I want to learn to let things go.

Even while I write this I’m thinking about so many things…all the times someone told me to suck it up and stop crying, “what happens at home stays at home”, “don’t tell anyone”, and all the other bs. Sometimes I don’t feel like I’ve really made any freaking process. That the last couple years have just been an act. That I’m a phony, and all the things that I thought I was better at, were just things I were play doing. Maybe I’m just being hard on myself. Or just moving through all this nonsense…who knows

Be Bold

I want to be bold. I used to think I would stand up for someone no matter what, but I’m realizing I don’t even stand up for myself. I’ve turned into a yes man. I say yes even when I don’t want to. I hold my tongue because people automatically think I have an attitude or am being rude because of who I used to be.

But that girl with attitude had been extremely bold. I really didn’t tolerate any foolishness. Now it’s like… I’ve compromised just to keep certain people in my life. I allow friends to be bad friends and I allow family members to speak down to me. I’m too old for that now.

Being bold is what I want. I want some of who I used to be back because some of the old me was amazing. 

Intimacy

I’d mentioned before in other posts that I’d realized intimacy is a big deal for me. I’m learning the different faces of intimacy and what they mean to me. It’s not like I’d never had these experiences, some of them I have, it’s just the mind I have now towards them is different. I don’t want to say I took those experiences for granted, but a apart of me feels like I did. Regardless. There’s now.

One form I find I love is intimacy through unsexual touch. It’s just touching someone to touch them. Just to feel their energy directly from them, to feel their warmth, to see how their body releases tension when they feel your skin connect, or the quick smile that passes through them. That’s food to me. Even in terms of my own tension, when I’m touched, the closer the person is to me, the more I have invested, and depending on their place in my heart and life, I will release a certain amount of tension, might even release some emotional garbage I needed to let go of.

It’s one of the main reasons why I’m so in love with the concept of cuddling and sleeping in bed with someone who will touch you and breathe your air (although normally that grosses me out- I will literally hold my breathe once I think someone is breathing my air or I’m breathing in their recycled air. I have no idea why it bothers me but anyway). It’s that energy transfer, that constant heat, your ability to stay physically connected to someone for hours without sexual tension, but most of all, your ability to feel rejuvenated when you wake up, even if you’ve only had a few hours of sleep that makes it so important to me. Not to get weird, because to me it’s not weird, but I have a friend. We don’t touch that often. When I looked back to see, I realized outside of certain situations, touching isn’t a habit like it usually is with me (this will be changing only because I’ve noticed I’m missing that part of intimacy, and don’t want to share it with someone else right now). But we still touch. It’s like our energy, or spirit, however you would like to name it, recognizes the other and that’s where the release comes from. Personally I think that’s dope, and it leads me to spiritual intimacy.

I don’t necessarily mean this in the biblical sense of the spiritual, but in the literal sense of my inner being. This, as far as I could see when self reflecting, is the second time that I’ve been able to connect like that with a member of the opposite sex. It’s interesting but I’m still observing, so I don’t want to speak too much on it yet. With the first person it happened with, I would literally think to call him, forget, then my phone would ring and it’ll be him calling or texting. Or I’d be sitting in class ready to quit or break down, and he’d send me a joke, annoy me to be funny, or send me random encouragement. And vice versus. The two times he’d received horrible news, I felt it. It was this cinder block of pain in the middle of my chest. It hit me out of no where, and “something” told me to see if he was okay. It wasn’t sexual, it wasn’t physical (although that helped), but it was that spiritual intimacy. Knowing someone’s deep down. Being in-sync. As far as the women I have that connection with, we’re so in-sync that we can think heavily on each other and text or call. It’s one of the most intense things I experience in my everyday life.

I could go into other forms but I think two is enough for now. I feel like this got a little long with the first two. But, I’m on the road to continuing self discovery so I kind of use this as a sounding board. See if other people have experienced these things with people. I often wonder if people are so angry because of the lack of intimacy. I know I was. I was searching for it, not even knowing or understanding what exactly I was looking for. Which is how I began to love someone who showed me, and set me in the direction to seeing what it really meant. Now, I find myself delightfully in the the midst of gathering more wisdom and knowledge on it. The more I read, feel, think about it, the closer I feel to myself. The closer I feel to the people I already have relationships with.

It gives me more understanding with no changes to the relationship. The growth of personal knowledge in itself helps me to deepen those relationships. Helps me guide my emotions and my attitude. So much has shifted for me since I started paying attention to what my real needs are. Keying intimacy as a huge one was the best first step I could’ve made to emotional wholeness.

Thank You

I just wanted to make a quick post to update on my mindset, and how I’ve been feeling the last few days. Health wise, I’ve been having a rough go of it. My vision has been blurring and flashing more than usual, headaches are back to being daily, body pains, problems with my speech, and major fatigue. It has been a little rough. Even when dealing with those things, I really am only bothered when it comes to my speech, dementia, and fatigue.

I’ve always been an active person, especially at night. I am a night owl by trade; so much so my dad used to frequently call me Vampire. I couldn’t help it; 1am-6am are the hours of my muse. I’m also big on going out. EVERYONE who knows me knows I love going out and hanging out with the people I care about. The dementia is a beast in and of itself. I’d been noticing my memory and temperament slipping for the last few weeks, but chucked it up to me just being tired and missing things. Having a diagnosis, albeit it’s negative stigma, I am positive that in a few weeks of serious health tending, I will be better than I was. Anyway…

I’m not sad anymore. I’d like to say I’m not overwhelmed either, but some moments I am (personally that’s a lot better than feeling like I’m drowning every second). I can say that I’m hopeful. For a while I’d lost hope and felt defeated by everything I have going on. I’ve determined that even though this all sucks majorly, I’m going to be as positive as I can be, and use my support system. I know a couple of my post where negative, but if I only post the positive, I feel dishonest because I have those days (sometimes those weeks).

Regardless, I have been touched by those who have taken the time to read my blog, to those who have received texted and called, and everyone who has said an encouraging word of support. It probably seems empty to them, or like it isn’t enough, but its hope and love to me.

So thank you.

Number 20

For my 20th post, I’m going to talk about something that I’ve only ever mentioned in therapy; until yesterday. For the first time in my life, someone took the time to sit down, and ask me real questions about how I feel about my immediate family, and how certain things in my past have shaped me; well, someone outside of a therapist. I was uncomfortable at first, I didn’t know what I could say. But her energy was welcoming, and I didn’t have it in me to lie.

The day started off difficult. My parents and brother had made plans for them to go to my dads half of the family first. It was a paid event, but for whatever reason, I wasn’t invited. To me, the excuses that were given to me for me not being included were garbage, and even if they weren’t, nothing would’ve made sense to me anyway. So I slept in, I didn’t really want to go anywhere because I felt like I wouldn’t fit. I’m so used to being criticized, and talking myself into some sort of issue that I rather just be alone half the time. But Bear pretty much told me to go and enjoy my holiday regardless of everything else. Those weren’t his exact words, but I think it got his point across.

Now, I’ve always been a bit different and I’ve come to love it. So when my cousin asked me a question, I popped right out with the answer which led to another conversation. The point here, is that this one question opened a vast door to what has been going on with me for the last decade. After my cousin had left, my aunt and I got into some deep truths about my life. I haven’t told my friends the depth of my pain when it comes to my family, and how they have impacted me to be the person I am now. So it was difficult to feel and talk about those things with my aunt. The only person who had really witnessed a couple of these altering events was my best friend, now sister Cherelle.

Cherelle probably has a good idea about done of my changes, at least since high school because she’s been on the other end of the phone on nights where I’ve cried myself to sleep. She’s been there to pray with me on the phone, and listen while I hyperventilated and passed out from emotional exhaustion. Those moments are as imbedded in my mental as runes on a pyramid. I’m sure those nights were hard for her, I never actually thought about how it was for her to hear me like that until just now. It just makes me appreciate her so much more than I already do. Outside of her, I’ve never leaned on someone to really get my feelings out on this particular subject. Most of the time when I vent, I vent like a regular teenager, and that’s how I wanted people to see me. I didn’t want them to really know how badly I was hurting. Until last night.

I don’t think my aunt will ever understand the door she opened for me. Although I didn’t cry, I felt some healing take place in speaking the words I’d never said out loud. It felt good to speak on my real feelings and memories that have continued to torment me from my present. For a few moments, I thought I would lose my composure, my insides at those times felt like rolled over dung. Thick, stinky, heavily deposited, and spreading over parts that weren’t related. My feelings were just open, infected, sores. But she took the time to look at those sores, to say ‘let’s clean these up’, and bandage them.

Maybe when I’m more comfortable I’ll go more into what we talked about, but for now, I really just appreciate her caring. For the first time in my life someone who wasn’t paid to hear about my deepest pains cared to listen to them. Cared enough to ask questions and not just brush them off, and cared enough to say ‘I’m sorry you went through that’. I’ve often felt alone. Not because people don’t care for me, but because those crevices hold a lot of who I am. Only select people have seen that deep into me, have been able to handle it, and it’s a huge weight off my shoulder to know I don’t have to act around her. That I have someone who has more of an understanding on why I’ve become who I am now.

To cap the night off, my grandmother, who I only call Granna, did something I didn’t expect. When she told me to go lay down in her room, she walked me to the steps, looked me straight in my eyes and said, “are you happy”. I didn’t answer her at first, it sounded more like a statement, like she could feel it on me, but when I did reply she nodded and walked back to the kitchen. Before Granna, and promptly after my aunt, is my great aunt Itsey. (God had to have known that this night would be one of those nights where I could choose progress or stagnation) We had been talking about my health, it was my first time telling my family what my doctors diagnosed me with, when she looked at me and said stop stressing. She said, you’re right where you need to be, you have nothing to prove to anyone, you’ve accomplished so much already, why are you trying to push yourself so fast and so far.

When she said that, I thought I was going to lose it again. I don’t know exactly when I felt I had to be the star in my family, but she had hit the nail on the head. To hear her tell me she’s proud?… Those are moments that I’ve longed for. To hear those words, and for them to really mean it was invaluable. A lot that was said yesterday blessed me. Healed me. A lot of it opened my eyes to what I’m doing and where I want to be.  Most of it just filled in these holes that have accumulated in my heart.  It is a stamp of my families love for me. For them to feel my sadness, the ache in my heart, and for them to encourage me through it is what helps me understand what family is really meant for. I cry for the person I used to be, the things I’ve lost, but I’m looking forward to who I’m becoming, and the things I can get back.

I know I won’t be sad forever, that I won’t be sick, or unhappy, or angry forever. So I’m riding through this time of transition. I’m learning from my mistakes, and learning what I can from the things I’m going through, as well as the things I’ve gone through. Overall, Thanksgiving was a day of healing for me. If nothing else, I’m thankful for that.