When I grow up I want to be...

Didn't we all have dreams of grandure growing up. We knew we were going to do great things with our lives. I laid in bed thinking about my life. I suddenly felt disappointed in my accomplishments. So as the kids lay asleep, I lay crying about the life I thought I lost.

Days later  I realized why I was crying. Why it hurt me so much feel like I have more do with my life. Different dramatic events had taken place that had exhausted me emotionally. I don't vent to anyone except my laptop and I was so upset that I couldn't get out a single word let alone string together a sentence or two. There were a shit-load of things that needed to be done around the house. I was freaking broke and my significant other was doing his usual complaining about this and that and the kids seemed to need everything all at once and.... I was ready to explode!

This wasn't how it was supposed to be.

This is the short story of the realization I have come to: As a Black woman, a teen mom, an unwed mother, somebody's girlfriend-not wife and a self-repressed writer, there aren't many options I gave myself. I could blame society, sure. Racism, sexism, but I'm more than qualified for any job I apply for but at the tender age of 28 (plus 2-almost 3). I find myself, again, reevaluating my career move. Sure I make a decent living in a promising industry but failing to complete college as planned has left me holding the short straw when it comes to looking for a new job. That's my fault.

I choose to stay with a guy for over 11 years and allow the relationship to exist with no final destination of marriage in the travel plans. I'm hurt when I'm treated like the girlfriend despite assuming the role of wife. I didn't let him get the milk for free, I freely handed over the whole damn cow. That's my fault.

As a adolescent I indulged in a relationship with a controlling, manipulative person and despite getting out of an abusive relationship with my daughter in hand, it still haunts me. Control and manipulation is sill poising my life as he does this through my daughter and the court system and my emotional link to the pain of what I failed to provide for my daughter. While I can't control the actions of an idiotic man, I can control my reaction and it's effect on my life. I have not and that's my fault.

There are 24 hours in a day and that's not nearly enough time to do all the things that need to be done to run a home and devote a decent slot of time to writing. No matter how many different techniques and schedules I employ, I can't squeeze anymore hours out of the day. I tell myself I write just write on the weekends, then that's bumped for this or that. I will write for an hour in the mornings and then I'm running late each day. I will write at night, but there is no place to sit void of everyone else's mess and it's loud and after everyone is sleep I fall asleep in whatever spot I'm in because I'm so damn exhausted. Other writers can do. Other writers have the same 24 hours I do-so why can't I seem to get it done? The fact that I can't is my fault.

I had plenty of chances for success and many more stumbles and failures and this is what I needed to stand naked in front of and stare at. I did not make the most of every opportunity I was given. I didn't make the most of each day I was living. I fucked up-and the sight of it was so painful that I couldn't get out of bed for nearly the whole weekend.

Of course there are things I was proud of that I've accomplished. But there are even more things I'm regretful of, ashamed of (one being starting this sentence with 'but'-I am resisting not deleting it but then  I'm going to delete the whole blog post because I will rethink putting this out into the universe and then I will regret not having done so because I really have needed to get this out of my system). I don't like to show this side of myself or admit it exists-I'm the tough lil' chick-but the feel is deep ya'll. Bone deep.

What do you do when you feel you aren't good enough? Like you don't measure up as an adult.

I tell my daughter that we are all work in progress and as long as there is life left in you there is life left to be better and accomplish more. I have been telling myself that a lot lately. Time to be the woman I aspired to be.  There is still time to write the things I made excuses not to write. Time to finish college-change careers. Do the things I love doing so well that others can't take their eyes off me and wait for the tangible rewards to follow as a result (Maya Angelou). It's hard to decide what to do when you grow up when you feel like you've wasted so much of your grown up years waiting on life to begin. It's hard to let go of the life you thought you'd have and embrace the one you have been avoiding.

That weekend I mourned that life I thought I was supposed to have-the woman I thought I was supposed to be. I should have mourned her longer but the kids needed to be fed and the laundry needed to be done and they didn't care that I wasn't what I wanted to be-all they cared about was that I am there for them when it matters the most. Right now...

Do I have to get out bed today......

Last night I couldn't sleep, well for the past few months I haven't been able to sleep much. I could blame it on any number of things but the down and dirty reason is writers block....

 

Yea that's is pretty much how I have been feeling. I usually go through seasons where I write feverishly in consecutive all night stints for months, then in slow trickles of notes here and there, some revision of old stuff, then, nothing-literally nothing. I have to force myself to sit and just write something, anything becasue when I don't write the crazy comes out. Ya'll I mean really crazy-bad dreams, night sweats, shitty attitude, crying, overly emotional, can't eat, don't want to get out of bed kind of crazy. Even my kids know, 'ok, let's leave mommy alone so she can write the crazy away'. It's sad.

This blog was supposed to be a way to force me to write when I feel the block weighing down, but, well, it's a challenge. I'm always in search of methods and routines to try to keep myself from falling to that dark, dingy place writers go when they are blocked.

Go for long walks or runs....

Caffine...Alcohol....Junk food...Healthy food....

Cook...Bake...Clean...Paint...Draw...

Read a good book....Watch a good movie....Play a video game......Listen to music...

Take a nap...Take notes....Keep a journal...People watch......

Meditate...Have sex...Don't have sex...

I could go on and on. 

If you've never experienced writers block it's kind of like...the feeling of always having the word or phrase you're in search of on the tip of your tounge. Like trying to sit and write but a huge burning hole is in the place where your thoughts are-if you reach in just the right way you may be able to pull a thing or two out but what if you get burned and what if you grab the wrong thing and what if you make the fire worse and...it's like standing on the end of a cliff you've jumped off many times before, you know you can make it down but what if this one time you bust your head on the rocks or break your neck on the way down and become paralyzed and land on the bottom bleeding and wild animals come from nowhere and begin eating away at you lifeless body and you are awake watching them but you can't feel anything because you are paralyzed and all you can think about is why did I jump and try to write this stupid book that no one, not even your own mother even likes anyhow...ok that's a little dramatic but I think you get the point.

The scary part about writers block, well an artistic block of any kind, is learning about how painful it can be. I thought I was alone and insane until my boyfiriend got me a poetry book by Anne Sexton and I read about her blocks and demons and how eventually, in my opinion, that killed her via her taking her own life. Another one of my favorite poets and another poetry book my honey got for me was of Sylvia Plath. Yet, another amazing poet suffering from an emotional life with her own demons that led her to the same tragic suicidal end. (there seems to be a theme here, I think) I am terrified of this place. Even more afraid of the block then death itself. I mean, death is final, but bad writing or never having written anything worthwhile, is eternal. Feeling like you have something to say but nothing to say at the same time is pretty maddening. 

There is a tug of war between the intense emotions it takes to write and the burden of the build up of emotions when you can't find a way to get it out. It's soul searing at times. Manic and mellow, depressing and daring, euphoric and exhausting-all at the same time.

Sometimes I wish I could run from it-the urge to write-but other days I'm sure I couldn't live with out being able to do this. I wouldn't want to live if I couldn't write. So, writers block or writers bliss, I will take the seasons as they come and try to remind myself to look forward to the days when it flows through me as effortlessly as the stars twinkle...because tomorrow I must get out of bed and give it another try. 

Now that I've vented a lil' about my blocks-tell me your thoughts on writers block. What do you find helps you clear your mind when you feel stuck? 

Hold on...am I an emotional hoarder

So I spent the weekend organizing and cleaning. I was fussing at everyone in the house for holding on to junk that they didn't need anymore. Books, clothes, toys, anything that they think they may possibly be able to find a use for in the future. Reminds me of the folks on that show Hoarders. Shameful.

Then I came across a few rubbermaid storage containers I have in the basement-damn-I may be a hoarder. Ya'll, I have possibly everything I have ever written since I was in the fourth grade. But in my defense, everything I write is like my baby, so it's hard to throw away my thoughts and feelings. I have every card and letter anyone has every given me. But I don't get many letters and the ones I have especially from one of my fav cousins in Arkansas help me remember good times. Ok so I may have have an hoarding issue-specifically tied to emotions.

I didn't have an issue throwing thing away at all but I didn't have a few moments thinking about what used to be and what I thought things would be at this point in my life. It was the emotional attachment-good emotions- that made me stash those things away. I didn't keep the things that held bad emotional memories, but that didn't keep my mind from wandering to the sad places that ended the good times. Why do we do that-hoard things that remind us of good memories and immediately burn the things that have bad memories?

Would we be more emotionally rounded people of we give both the good and bad equal space in our hoard? It doesn't mean we need to roll around in the emotional flashbacks but keep them near and handy to peak at may not be a bad idea. This is why we let certain people constantly come back in our lives and hurt us again, we have tossed out all the bad emotions tied to the situation and only held on to the good. I heard that's why women have babies again and again-because we forget labor pains and turn around and do it again. We hold on to the beauty of the birth, not the screaming in pain and not knowing if when you push are you pooping or peeing-ewwww.

So after the kids went to bed, I allowed myself to sit and have my moments with my hoard. Good and bad-happy and sad. Then I prioritized and threw a bunch of junk away!

I can't be the only one thinking and feeling like this. Tell me, what things do you hoard- physically and emotionally? And how do you think we can clean up our own emotional clutter?

Am I waiting for the right one...

Day two of fighting a massive migraine. Home with a drugged up lil' guy who just had his tonsils and adenoids removed and wants to do nothing else besides watch Dr. Who-all of them-again. So what else can I do besides write.

Anyhow, I saw a post on facebook that stuck with me (as philosophical facebook posts often do-lol). It was: One day someone will walk into your life and make you realize why it never worked out with anyone else. Hmmm....

That thought could inspire great love poems and epic love stories but does it ring true in real life? Is there really a someone for everyone out there just waiting to be found? 

There are some relationships and marriages I honestly admire. They seem to just fit and workout so effortlessly. Then, there are others that always seem to be in turmoil and on the edge of seperation. The rest are somewhere in between-or at least we hope to be. How does this happen? How does one meet a partner that seems so perfectly matched yet others go through life always picking all the wrong ones?

I have been with the same guy for ages now-since the beginning of time-lol. It's been more like 11 years, but it feels like forever. When I met him, I thought I was sure he was the one! It all just seemed to fit and workout. He was THE ONE! My how new love can make you feel like nothing else matters. Years later, after many many ups and even more downs, we are still together, working hard to keep it together. Some days it's downright impossible and others it's as effortless as blinking your eyes. Marriage is an option we explored but have yet to leap into for various complex reasons. Knowing what I know now, I sometimes question my certainty back then? Is he the one for me? Am I the one for him? While our bond is often too deep to describe even in poetry, I still look at other relationships and wonder how I can make mine better.

I like to think of all the relationships we have before marriage as practice for the real thing. You get to test your patience and work out the details so you have it together for the 'one' you are meant to marry. This idea could be wrong. What if the 'one' doesn't exist the way we think we know it? What it the 'one' is a work in progress, like you and me and the real secret is for you two to work together to become what you are supposed to be. Then the question becomes, how much work makes the relationship worth it or not? How much patience and tolerance should one have in a relationship if your goal is marriage one day? Do you hold out for that person that makes it all easy? What if s/he never comes? What if you miss the 'one' because you are focused on a relationship that will never be what you need?

How do we know when we have found the right 'one'? I don't know, but the pursuit surely drives us all and has the power to destroy empires and inspire timeless works of art.

What do you think? Does the 'one' really exist or is s/he a someone we work with? How did you know if the love of your life was the 'one'? 

The kids may not be sleep, but you can still share-I'll be up all day and night with the Dr. Who marathon :)

Relax… Just act Natural

I just put the kids in the bed and decided to flat iron my hair for work tomorrow. A process I have a love hate relationship with for sure. Then I began to think about my hair styling options, maybe it’s time for a change.

I have never been one to jump on any fashion or style bandwagon. Things change too quickly for my taste and the last few years there seems to be a mass transition to sistas going natural. Trolling around on message boards and blogs folks seem to have strong opinions-even biases about our hair. You’re one thing if you chose to get a relaxer and you are another if you choose to go natural. You can’t win! Sista’s, relax, just act natural it’s only hair!

Full disclosure I have been there and done that with the natural phase. Way back in like ’05, ’06-I did the big chop before the big chop was a part of transformation blogs on youtube. As a matter of fact I likely have had every hair color, hairstyle and length (grown or mainly store bought) since I began my career as a kitchen beautician at the tender age of 13. I have experience on both ends of the spectrum and I let me give you the quick scoop.

As a natural sista, I definitely felt free. It’s humid or it’s gonna rain-who cares. Feeling kind of playful, I’ll throw in a flower or put on a scarf. Big dangly earrings to accent the ‘fro-heck yea! I could go back to straight in zero to 3 hours flat (lol) then right back to ‘fro nation after one wash. Unfortunately, the ‘fro didn’t work out. It was always dry-I mean no matter what I used. All natural oils, leave in conditioners, it didn’t matter. A few hours later it would always be right back dry. Combing/picking it out-Lord help me! Actually my boyfriend helped me-he literally had to help me pick out my hair! I am not tender-headed but I was in tears then as soon as it dried up it was shrunk right back down and here we go again with the moisturizer and picking. What didn’t work for me was my 4a/ 4c hair type (and lack of available products and tools-but that’s a whole other issue in this city) For you hair novices I have some quick easy info on hair types below.

Now you can see why I was in tears trying to detangle it even a little bit.

Fast forward years later to regular relaxers in 2011 when had a quarter life crisis and died my hair-didn’t like it and died it back. Bad idea. Although I do a great job taking care of my relaxed hair, it was in horrible shape after that. A year later after many cuts and trims to remove the thinning and damaged hair, I was back to the luscious locks. Thick, healthy relaxed hair. Touch ups every two or three months. Regular trims, regular deep conditioning treatments. Blow drying and flat ironing kept to a minimum. Alternating weekly co-wash and shampoo. Wrapping my head at night. I was on it ya’ll! Then I learned another hard lesson. Stress and poor eating habits are just as bad on your hair as crappy maintenance. My hair began to shed and shed and shed. I didn’t know if it was normal until I did some research.

Generally people have around 108,000-110,000 strands of hair for those with black or brown hair, 140,000 strands of hair for blondes and 90,000 for red heads. I know that seems off but hair thickness and wave/curl pattern play a big part. Losing 50-100 strands of hair a day is with-in normal range considering the different phases hair may be in at any given time.

I think I was losing around 150-175 strands a day. No I didn’t count, but having to clean the bathroom sink and sweep the floor every time I did my hair gave me a good idea. Ugh, I won’t even tell you how often I clogged my shower drain…

I began taking vitamins, using better hair care products (even making my own). Just generally taking better care of myself and lowering my stress level has helped a lot but I’m still left with a mystery-what to do with my hair.

My last relaxer (touchup) was in January of this year and I have slowly cut off the ends of my hair that were damaged beyond repair. (no product can repair split/damaged ends-it just needs to be cut)  I’m left with a half afro/half relaxed head and decision to make. Act natural, or just relax?

What are your natural, relaxed or hair dilemma stories?