Please Don’t Leave Me: An Accountability Post Part II

Posted on September 23, 2020 by WG under The Crazy

I want to open Part II of this blog post by saying: it gets better! My recent attempts to clean up the mess that is my life and hold myself accountable for how I’ve been complicit in my own dysfunction is only hindered by my need to stop and feel sorry for myself.

I have always felt I was operating to the fullness of my abilities, so to learn that I have been falling so miserably short for so long is discouraging. I am going through a dark phase of healing and growth right now, reshaping who I am as a woman; learning to eradicate my anxious-attachment behaviors while simultaneously realizing that fixing my negative traits will forever change how I navigate intimate relationships. I hate change. The world around me feels like chaos, but through learning to parent my inner-child I am able to soothe myself into peace using copious amounts of self-compassion. Let’s talk about it!

Mama Knows! Self-Compassion and the Inner Child

I started a new podcast with a business partner where we specialize in tough topics between the sexes within the black community and how it relates to mental health and white supremacy. It is an interesting endeavor that keeps me on my toes but has left me with a ton of open-ended questions I have had to direct at myself. One topic brought up was the frustration black men feel toward black women for not loving themselves. I sit on my couch at night ruminating on this interaction because I can’t imagine what life would look like had I known how to love myself early on. I flash back in my mind to all the times I didn’t know to assert myself— I was taken advantage of sexually from the age of 6 so I’m not sure where I was supposed to develop those skills. I honestly thought that earning the love of others and constantly proving my worth was how to live adult life. I thought I was helping, I thought I was loving—and I suppose I was helping—everyone but myself.

I struggle with feelings of shame for the shitty treatment I accepted from my friendships and romantic relationships in the past. I am even harder on myself for how shitty I have shown up in my interpersonal relationships: martyring myself into fatigue, not emotionally connecting and disappearing when overwhelmed by my depression and/or irrational feelings of abandonment (in the case of romantic relationships; being extra needy and on high-alert when going through anxious episodes). The process of learning to forgive myself and allowing myself to grow and fail has forced me to learn how to self-soothe as I grow mentally stronger. Touching my heart and creasing my brow in empathy when I think about my past sufferings feels much better to me than crying for hours while berating myself for not being smart enough to know better.

I have only now gotten into the habit of using self-compassion to re-parent my inner child— I resent having to do it—but I am starting to see positive results! I still crave co-dependent amounts of acceptance and external emotional support which leads to feeling as if I am always battling with my struggles with emptiness, inadequacy and depression. The love and nurturing that I crave in those moments of despair have to come from me—which seems absurd because I am always running on empty; exhausted from hiding the severity of my mental struggles from the world—but here we are.

Baby Steps

I couldn’t find my keys yesterday. My default reaction is usually racing heart, near-panic attack as I pace my apartment in a brain fog, disappointed with myself for being so scatterbrained, imperfect and stupid yet again! This time, when I realized I lost my keys my brain immediately thought. “Ok, calm down you will find them. It’s normal to lose track of your things, just be more diligent about putting them where they belong in the future.” I understand to most people this seems like a logical way to speak to yourself, but when you really think about it, how many of us lose our keys and it looks something like this:

*Stomps around the room overturning furniture in a panicked energy* “Where are my keys?! I always do this! I am ALWAYS late! I was going to be on time for once in my life, I’m so annoyed I keep messing up. Kids! GET UP AND HELP ME LOOK FOR MY KEYS YOU KNOW WE HAVE TO LEAVE!!!”

And just like that I have ruined my day and the kids’ day because I wasn’t able to handle a regular ass situation like a rational adult. My inner child is impatient, she doesn’t like to feel stupid and inadequate so when I mess up, I have to be sure to calm that part of me first and say, “It’s ok. You are not going to be perfect. Let’s fix the issue at hand while finding a way to remain calm.”

Finding ways to soothe and counsel yourself through stressful times is difficult when most of us have spent a lifetime defaulting to unhealthy self-protective mechanisms to get us by. One of my main motivators is realizing the impact of how my negativity towards myself is felt by my children. If I don’t want my children to struggle with loving themselves then I have to do the work to love myself. Re-parenting your inner child is basically as close as possible that any of us get to going back in time and righting wrongs. My learning self-compassion and practicing self-care is simply loving on the inner parts of myself that never received the proper love and care for whatever reason.

Now that we’ve gone over the tools to help us get through the nasty parts of healing, let’s dive right back in!

Why Your Relationships Suck

Your relationships probably suck because you do. Sorry, this is part 2 and I don’t feel like finding a more diplomatic way to say that, so I will say the way it came to me in an epiphany: I suck! I have endured some pretty heinous things at the hands of men who were barely even deserving of my presence! However, instead of leaving those toxic relationships I leaned into unhealthy coping mechanisms to keep the relationship afloat because sometimes unhappy feels better than alone. As I work through my abandonment issues, I am slowly able to come to terms with my contributions to the messes that were all of my previous relationships.

See below for some gems!

Desperation

Confession: I just recently grew out of casual sex; not because I wanted to, I just couldn’t deal with the emptiness of it anymore. I used to prefer to have lovers over relationships because it was a way for me to feel as if I had some control over how much I let those men damage me. If I convinced myself that it was casual then I didn’t have to deal with my feelings of abandonment when the situation eventually ended. I didn’t like to be in committed relationships because I was never allowed to love as freely as I wanted to and I got tired of feeling like I had to hold back my love just to make a man comfortable.

I have since had to come to terms with the fact that I do love hard, but I also have learned to love out of desperation all these years. The grandmother of one of my exes once told me that sometimes men expire of loving you and there’s nothing you can do about it. It stuck with me because that’s exactly what happened with her grandson, so now I don’t know how to deal when a man needs space and pulls away from me. In spite of being an introvert and needing plenty of time alone to recharge myself, I am uncomfortable with the idea of my man needing space because that can quickly taper off into disinterest. On some level society accepts that at any given moment a man can just leave, ghost or abandon you and/or your child and you won’t even see it coming. All around me I see more examples of how to desperately keep a man by attempting to be more visually appealing, accommodating, or quiet—and not enough examples of men being content in their relationships. Men can be trash, yes but also men can be used as pawns to fulfill the needs of women who are just seeking any connection to fill their empty void or prove they can catch and keep a man. Are you actively engaged and fighting for your relationship because you want to be with that man specifically, or because you don’t want to be alone? Do you want to add to his happiness, or do you not want him to leave you? There is a difference!

Desperation is not a good seed from which anything healthy can grow.

Bitterness

Although I haven’t dealt with the worst of my self-esteem issues since high school, I still struggle with insecurities and have found a tiny nugget of bitterness that bleeds itself into my relationships if I don’t stay on top of it. I do hold a grudge towards men for how they view women and value us based on our looks and sexual relevance. I always hated that the men I dated “don’t know what it was about me” or feeling as if I was being used as a quirky black girl fetishist vacation, so I started playing the game. I chose to play a character while interacting with men because I felt it easier to keep them on the hook by fulfilling their empty sexual fantasies and not becoming too attached.

My resentment toward men and belief that most of them were shallow assholes not worthy of getting to know the real me was just bitterness and hurt from that rejected, misunderstood teenaged girl. That resentment was definitely all mine to own and work on— and that only covers the bitterness I have examined and am willing to share on this blog! Holding onto bitterness tied to deep-sated insecurities can be a stain on interpersonal relationships. Sometimes it’s tough to even know where to begin, but paying attention to your triggers is a good ass start (plus, you know? MENTAL HEALTH THERAPY!)

Out of touch with yourself

The only way to get in touch with yourself is to really spend some time alone with YOU. The problem is: a lot of us are sitting in the pain of our anxiety and abandonment issues; afraid to be alone. If you read the previous blog post and can identify with any of my nasty relationship habits, then it is highly probable that you are not in touch with yourself or your own emotions. [I won’t expound on this much because I plan to go into further details on my Patreon account sharing my shadow work journey and how I’ve drifted through life completely in tune to the lives of others and not my own. I’m excited about this exclusive vlog series for the opportunity to connect with others on their healing journeys in a private and safe space. Click here for more details!]

The good news is: the journey to becoming more in touch with your emotions can take place naturally as you learn to practice self-care and self-compassion. Both practices help us to be more aware of emotions as we experience them in the present and help us examine what the soothing countermeasure should be. For example: I’m feeling anxious means I should take a long hot shower and meditate to work through my feelings; while I am working out my feelings I extend myself compassion in my thoughts even if I uncover something negative about myself).

My very first relationship was a co-dependent one, as I was left to hold together a situation constantly being torn apart by his cheating and my inability to figure out how WE were supposed to handle the issue. (Do you see what’s wrong with that sentence?!) Looking back, I had even forgotten about negative comments he used to say about my not being pretty enough and how he used to put me down whenever I made any decisions or steps toward personal growth. I learned to put my needs aside to feed his ego and through learning to constantly please someone else, I learned to emotionally abandon myself. This pattern has repeated in most of my relationships… until now! As I am working on establishing my own limits and boundaries, I find myself attracting relationships in my life with people who also have a healthy set of boundaries and no expectation that I break my back to meet all of their needs. As I have learned to be more in touch with myself, I am able to connect with more like-minded people who are an emotional support and a direct reflection of characteristics I am working on or aspire to have.

I like it here, it’s peaceful!

Calm the Fuck Down, Lighten the Fuck Up

I have always thought this in my most rational of minds, but, honestly it’s easier said than done. When it comes to peace of mind in any relationship we have to realize that it’s not only for our partners, it’s for us! It’s not about being fun for a man, it’s about remembering to take time to have fun in the ways you like to do so. Here are some tips and ideas for lightening tf up!

Check your obsession

My brother used to say that if you watch a person long enough you are bound to catch them picking their nose. I have since learned to apply the same logic to men: if I am constantly watching, thinking, controlling, obsessing about a nigga then I’m bound to find whatever imperfection or conflict for which I am subconsciously always searching. I will not downplay the joy it is to be in a relationship with someone you adore, but adoration goes too far when we expect our partners to be constantly accessible to us. Release the expectation of instant response texts, play-by play-itineraries and password sharing to consider what it is to allow a nigga the freedom to be himself without being constantly scrutinized. (This one takes awhile, I’m still a work in progress not gonna lie!)

Update your playlist

My tendency to ruminate in pain leads me to the same sad playlists time and time again. When dating someone new or if you find yourself on a negative streak in your relationship, simple changes can be made to help you get over the hump. For me, updating my playlists to positive, calming or vibey songs to help me sort through my thoughts and/or express my lovey dovey feelings has made a tremendous difference in helping me to stabilize my relationship anxiety.

Find accountability partners

This might be a judgmental thought but now that I am 36 I feel that all of my close friendships need to be accountability partners. It is not easy to build up and retain interpersonal relationships when managing anxious attachment tendencies, but a trusted, emotionally available friend goes a long way toward helping to talk through anxieties and irrational reactions to what usually turns out to be regular ass relationship stuff.

Be authentic

I view relationships as a safe space where I get to be as much as myself as possible and allow my partner to be the same. In the past, efforts to hold onto my flailing relationships looked like trying to adapt to my partners every whim while minimizing my own wants and needs. I now see those actions as a betrayal to my authenticity. It is 100% important to me that I practice the art of compromise in relationships without losing my own identity or trying to be something I am not just to people please.

Adult play

Tease and flirt, wrestle, joke, play games, reveal the joyous parts of your inner child!

Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk!

Please Don’t Leave Me: An Accountability Post {Part 1}

Posted on August 17, 2020 by WG under The Crazy

Main Graphic

Before I get into this, I will let you in on a little secret: sometimes I feel that my art and purpose is cursed. Most of the time I don’t truly think I will make any headway telling the painful stories of women to invoke empathy and change in the actions of men. I don’t truly believe that any soft pleas or harsh realities are going to make any dents toward progression in this underlying movement. The movement? The modern black woman’s pursuit of a healthy, lasting and loving romantic relationship.

Personally, I used to be of the belief that lifelong singlehood is not only a viable option but a favorable option for most women. Loneliness is a bitch but if you love yourself and are ok with doing fun shit alone, you’ll be aiight! However pragmatic that train of thought might be, it’s not a very comforting one for women who crave lifelong companionship. For those who want relationships, it’s tough to navigate the weird culture around dating and love within the black community. No matter how accomplished black women are, it’s still difficult for us to be taken seriously if we don’t have a boyfriend or husband, when a lot of us were not modeled how to coexist harmoniously with each other– let alone a man! There is so much pressure from the culture to be coupled up that I wouldn’t be surprised if, outside of other opinions, some of us might prefer the peace of being alone. By that same token, I think that women who truly desire healthy, lifelong relationships should actively and intentionally pursue those desires while considering what it means to take personal accountability for our own dysfunctions.

Accountability is hard. Accountability is especially hard when you have experienced traumas and/or have fallen victim to someone’s nefarious intentions and are on the road to emotional recovery. I can testify that dealing with one narcissist after another can fatigue a woman into not doing the necessary work to make sure she stays accountable for her own healing and growth in future relationships. While a lot of my poetry focuses on holding men accountable for how they treat and care for women, it does not mean that I don’t expect the same from myself and other women. As much as I hate to acknowledge this; every single one of us is solely responsible for fixing our own brokenness—unfortunately, that doesn’t exclude myself or any other hurt women.

Black, White and…Pink?

Honestly, I have been in so many shitty situations I never seem to know what the hell I’m doing in any of my romantic relationships. I think a lot of us are black and white thinkers who, when we come together, create grey areas of smaller issues that no one ever wants to address or resolve. Arguments or adversity are rarely one person’s fault exclusively—and as a sensitive person, I will admit that sometimes I have a hard time deciphering if I am the one to blame and have some apologizing to do.

Pop recording artist Pink’s “Please Don’t Leave Me” is one of my go-to’s for whenever I’m unsure if I am reacting to deep-sated triggers and being the unreasonable person in a situation. In the heat of the moment all I can seem to think about are my own feelings. The song helps me to remember that just because my pain is the loudest does not mean I am the only one putting up with uncomfortable bullshit. Making the decision to constantly ask myself “Am I the asshole?” is more agonizing than any of these self-help books can even begin to describe!

I still have a hard time articulating this stuff so, in continuing with tradition, I will use the words of Pink to help guide me. Below are some of my self-sabotaging relationship behaviors and I hereby hold myself accountable… *fingers crossed behind back*

SafeRelationships

That’s What She Said

I don’t know if I can yell any louder,
How many times have I kicked you out of here
Or said something insulting?

One of my favorite things about being a writer and performer is that people assume I am a great communicator. I am not. I am an over communicator or a non-communicator; I am either a flurry of emotions and tangent stories, or I take a long time to process information and get to my point. I used to be completely treacherous with my words until an ex-boyfriend told me that the mean shit I said to him still echoed in his ears and made him feel bad about himself. I mean, a lovely superpower to have but not the sort of thing to list under “special skills” on my girlfriend resume!

Because I am a person unashamed of wearing my heart on my sleeve, it sometimes gives me the upper hand during arguments. Tears and distress can be distracting to men, so while I like the freedom to be emotional, I also like to have productive and meaningful conversations that lead to resolution. Here are some thoughts on the painstaking lessons I’m trying to learn about fair communication:

Going for the jugular

When Bae meets you, he thinks you’re “cute” when you’re angry, but that shit wears off quick after you hit him with a couple of low blows a few arguments in. Being a smart ass may seem cute when you tell your friends how you put a nigga in his place, but it can weigh heavily on a man’s psyche and self-esteem. Probably why this is the most problematic communication issue is because many of us would never put up with a man speaking to us nastily or calling us out of our names, so it’s definitely not ok to dish out without being able to take it. Personally, I know I am capable of Olivia Pope-levels of verbal bridge burning but I’ve since been working on being more careful with my choice of words– especially during arguments—because as I work on self-compassion in my own journey it helps me to recognize when I am being unrelenting toward others.

Stonewalling/clamming up

MentallyAbusedPicto I am an enforcer of the silent treatment—not always out of malice but because it takes me forever to process my thoughts and when I am in the midst of emotion: I DON’T WANT TO TALK TO YOUR DUMB ASS! Ok, so maybe I struggle with clamming up because when I’m angry my affection freezes and I need to stew in my negative feelings. I am super annoyed to find that this is not only terrible to do, it’s also an insidious form of emotional abuse (boooooo!) I realize I am so used to stuffing down my feelings in other aspects of my life that I do it in relationships, too. Seething in anger is almost ALWAYS the easiest thing to do over expressing grievances and emotions to a dude who may dump my ass anyway. The problem is, I assume men have zero skills to deal with my emotions in the first place so I don’t bother letting them in, but that’s clearly a “ME” issue. Right now I am working on the balance between recognizing when I need a moment to cool off and process thoughts or whether I just want to flee from conflict and freeze the other person out because I hate them and their stupid wrong ass point of view! I recognize that uncomfortable conversations are unavoidable if you wish to resolve conflict, have an individual voice and a peace of mind in your own relationship. Pushing past the desire to hold back necessary communication out of anxiety, fear or anger is 100% worth the therapy sessions it is taking to break me of the habit.

Direct communication

If Bae were a mind-reader life would be boring, and you wouldn’t want him! If we agree that all humans are different, that women are from Mars and men are from Keisha’s DMs (or however that saying goes), then we agree to the idea that direct and clear communication between the sexes is a must. Hinting around or being indirect is a bad idea because it’s an example of poor management of your own expectations. If you leave communication up to vague hints, code language or clues then you leave yourself open to ambiguity and disappointment. Tell that nigga what the fuck you want and what the fuck you mean so miscommunication can never be the reason anything goes wrong. The more I practice sorting through my thoughts and making the effort to be a direct communicator the less energy I have to put toward the frustrating cycle of cleverly hinting about what I want and being massively disappointed when I don’t get what I want. I recognize that I sometimes choose to be vague in my communications because I am afraid to ask for what I need. It is worth it to push past that fear!

Bringing up old shit

Once you forgive for something you don’t have to forget but you do have to shut the fuck up about it. The more I practice self-compassion the more I open my eyes to how harsh and unforgiving I can be towards other people. It helps me to put myself in the other person’s shoes to come to the realization that if I am forgiven for a fuck up it would be embarrassing to have it constantly brought up and thrown in my face time and time again, so why do it to another person? As I work through this toxic habit, I see how on the front end of an issue I can take the time to be more intentional about engaging in full, uncomfortable conversations about the transgression at hand to determine whether I am actually able to forgive, let it go and never bring out as ammunition for an argument again. It is completely unproductive to continuously weave an old transgression into a new disagreement, it throws the playing field off balance!

Manipulation and Emotional Abuse

I can be so mean when I wanna be,
I am capable of really anything,
I can cut you into pieces,
When my heart is broken

Feminine Wiles

These days, staying in touch with my own feminine energy has been a focus and I love to see other women on the same journey. One thing I have become aware of is how society often gets to dictate what femininity is and, in my mind, there are two behaviors I used to chalk up to regular ass feminine wiles, but now that I am hip to the symptoms of my own abandonment issues I don’t look at these behaviors in the same light. Those are:

The Damsel in Distress

I do think it’s true that men want to feel needed in relationships, but I don’t think it’s up to women to make up scenarios to be rescued in response to that need. This is not a personal issue of mine per se, because I have trouble showing any vulnerability and asking for help. However, as I work through my mental health issues I have a deeper need to feel understood which has made me emotionally clingy. The way the fantasy plays out in my head I am able to share all of my past traumas in a way that ignites a man’s love to fill the holes of abandonment in heart—or insert something equally ridiculous and unrealistic here! However, practicality dicates that I need to leave the trauma for my therapist and learn what it is to lean into romantic relationships for emotional support as I work through trauma, not as a means of rescue from trauma.

The Constant Chase

While I have never been high maintenance when it comes to material things, I have been known to make men jump through hoops to gain and keep my attention. I have always been the type of woman who wanted a man to fight for me, even though I realized early on that average niggas are not in the habit of pulling Rom Com moves to win over my affections. Expecting a little razzle dazzle excitement during the courting phase is normal, but to continue to require a man to find ways to constantly keep you on your toes is unrealistic and can be exhausting for everyone involved.

Girl, if you don’t get on top of your self-care so you can leave that man alone!

The bottom line is: a man shouldn’t always be presented with the task of fighting for you. How can anyone rest when they are constantly being challenged with proving their love and affection? “Be his peace,” sounds like an antiquated charge based on misogyny and lack of awareness of how much control we have over someone’s internal environment, but the sentiment makes sense if you take pride out of it and simplify the concept. You do not have to be his peace, both partners are responsible and should be working toward collective peace. To become peace in a relationship is to cultivate a safe space atmosphere that benefits everyone, not just him. Personally, I know that when I practice gratitude and allow myself to appreciate my nigga in small moments I’m less likely to pick apart the relationship during moments of neuroses, resulting in giving him a hard time out of nowhere because my emotions are unstable. Picking fights, being purposely difficult, provocative or emotionally withdrawn to force some exciting conflict into the relationship is a sign of insecurity that can only be resolved within. This is not the coy give and take of a consensual chase; this is how you exhaust your nigga!

Other forms of emotional manipulation and abuse:

Entitlement
- Entitlement is what forms when we view relationships as tit for tat and feel as if we are not getting enough tit for our tat! Honestly, my toxic trait is that I feel entitled to extraordinary treatment and groveling gratitude after I martyr myself in the relationship by doting on a nigga when… he has not asked me to. Entitlement is almost always a detriment to a relationship because teams cannot operate when one of its members is always feeling slighted and deserving of more. Gratitude and contentment are what keep any relationship alive but because of my insecurities my default behavior is usually to act entitled.

Sexually Insatiable
- I will admit that up until about yesterday, I believed that men were walking hard dicks including thoughts and the occasional opinion. Honestly, most of my younger relationships were so driven by sex it never occurred to me that all men are, apparently, not interested in sex all the time. If you land yourself a hard-working man who respects you as a woman and has a fair amount of other interests and hobbies; he will not want to have sex all the time. And I hate even typing it because it reads like a blow to my womanhood. (My vagina clutched her pearls and exclaimed, “Tuh, EXCUSE ME!”…but alas, it’s true). Younger me was taught that sex is the only way to feel connected and appreciated because I spent time with men who also didn’t know of other ways to channel their passions and emotions. Now that I am 36 and my back hurts, I realize that the constant desire for sexual release can be satisfied in other ways that don’t make my partner feel like a piece of meat. The more I overcome my intimacy issues that cause me to verbally clam up and have difficulty with non-sexual physical affection, the more it calms my hyper-sexual expectation that a man always be ready for sex and OFTEN!

Breaking Up
- I hate this about me. I truly hate that my abandonment issues run so deep that I am always one foot out the door of any relationship so when I get scared, I break up. Do I want the relationship to be over? No, but I also don’t want to be dumped or deal with the aftershock of a big argument, so I tend to jump the gun and end things because being alone feels safer than allowing someone entry into my life with the option of leaving me at any time. All of that is fancy phrasing for my own cowardice. Relationships are not easy! I don’t care how in love and connected you feel to a person—that person is a stranger that has layers and layers of thoughts, beliefs and personality traits about them that you have yet to unlock. You WILL fight and, no matter the outcome, you WILL survive it. Relationship conflict is an opportunity to fix shit and although the conversation might get ugly, I have to make sure my thoughts don’t turn ugly and that I don’t do the easy and immature thing: prematurely breaking up out of hurt and fear. I’m too old for the runaround and the niggas I date are too old— none of our nervous systems can handle these hot/cold behaviors!

Yipes!

Barbie

Ideally I would like to plow through this topic with one painful rip of the band-aid but I need a BREAK! I can’t stress enough that growth, healing and accountability are messy, ugly things before we even have a chance get to the good part of functioning and feeling better. All of this work is worth it toward the ultimate goal which is the pursuit of a purposeful life, full of meaningful, healthy and authentic relationships. How am I doing so far? Ladies, anything you see here in yourself? For the men, are there any major accountability points I missed?

For the Part 2 post I want to get real with women about relationship anxiety, co-dependency and how self-compassion can help us get through the rocky points of adjusting to healthy interpersonal relationships. Because I have personally struggled with my platonic and romantic emotional connections I will attempt to write a little more broadly to make sure it can apply to platonic relationships, as well as leave some resources for books that have helped me along the way!

Unlearning unhealthy behaviors is easier said than done, however sometimes all it takes is the right message at the right time to spark a seed of change and growth. Hopefully, by sharing the snags on my journey I am helping others to know they are not alone. In the coming months I plan to release a video healing series that shares more about my deep healing and accountability work complete with new poetry and accompanying writing projects on the effort. To find out more about how you can support and receive exclusive access to this new endeavor please visit: www.patreon.com/whiskeygirldc.

BONUS!

If you want to show your black man some LOVE or find ways to do so every single day, follow my homegirl’s movement: Dear Black Men , for daily posts and live discussions.

Stay tuned for part 2!

Revisited: The Obligation to Love Your Oppressor

Posted on April 24, 2020 by WG under The Crazy

Blog Post RP

Author’s Note:

I wrote this post a few years ago at the peak of the #MeToo movement. Before writing the companion piece to this I wanted to repost for a few reasons. Let’s number them!

There were some formatting issues on the original post that has always bothered me to no end. At the time it was very important for me to release this blog post into the interwebs and out of my spirit—so I did what I had to do. Secretly, I have always wondered if the poor formatting of the post somehow took away from the overall message I was attempting to convey.
I am working on a sister piece to this that holds women accountable in dating relationships and before I write that piece I want to be sure that others have a chance to read and understand the inspiration behind the original post.
I have been working on what it means to “show up woman” at this stage in my life which include attempting to be more intentional about how I handle heartbreak and disappointment by adapting a more pragmatic (less emotional) approach to situations. I still have a paralyzing fear of heartbreak but the realization that being alone is not the end of the world keeps me grounded. I wanted to revisit this post to remind myself that healing is not linear, and although I have trained myself to handle situations better, there are times when I still feel every single word of this post. I now have more control and accountability over how I handle my own pain…but it is still felt.
Vulnerability and transparency in my writing comes naturally, however as I embark on the journey of practicing this in my personal relationships, I’ve realized that I’ve struggled having the capacity for both. When asked how I am able to be so open about my personal life, I can’t stress enough that baring my soul to internet strangers or people in a live audience feels more anonymous to me than one on one eye contact with a family member or significant other. I suppose I am easing myself back into the writing process by revisiting this post.
I have recovered from this pain and am now ready to address how myself and some women who deal with similar bitterness allow it to manifest as tumors in our relationships.

The Obligation to Love Your Oppressor

“You know, you really wooed me. You are really something else,” he said softly. It sounded so kind— almost even like a victory but I knew better. It was a sentencing. Deep down I knew it was my punishment.

He then went on about his business, bedding women and taking names later. I went about mine, traveling down a slippery slope of depression that led to too many losses to count. I deserved to be punished, perhaps. We were not in a committed relationship and everyone knows that those situations are best worked out when the woman remains loyal to a man allowed to do whatever he wants. I could never be that loyal, it never seemed fair to me. So, after I begged him through the ugliest of tears to allow me the label of being his girlfriend, he rejected me. I wandered into the arms of an unavailable man and broke his shit up as badly as I had been broken.

The cycle of pain was a vortex that had me sucked all the way in. I always assumed I deserved all the heartache and pain coming to me because it was my karma.

Bubbling Over the Surface

I have been stuffing down pain and trauma experienced at the hands of males my whole life. Because it’s not trauma– how dramatic of me, it’s just the way things are. I have sat in several counseling sessions never mentioning molestation by another abused little boy because what little girl hasn’t been molested? I couldn’t play the child molestation card in life, I had to get over it. When it was time to give up my virginity there was no discussion session for me to explain that I was really scared and not ready. Sex is what you do to be accepted. Sex is something you do to gain love from a man. I had spent my high school years so lonely and unwanted I just wanted to finally feel accepted.

We would make out and pet each other on my parent’s couch. When he left, I would burst into tears and I never knew why. Looking back on it, I wonder why he never asked me why I cried. We were young–19 and 20– but isn’t that old enough to care about the woman you are with? Did this intimacy we created with our bodies mean nothing to his heart? He never cared about my tears well into our marriage. Some nights I slept in the bathtub or on the bathroom floor devastated that we were falling apart and I couldn’t save us. I was the only one fighting for us and it was taking its toll, wearing me thin. I still don’t know why I absorbed the weight of the entire marriage on my shoulders–maybe because women are the keepers of love. We fight for it and we are expected to make it work, regardless.

Nevertheless, I learned early that showing weakness is a drop of blood in shark-infested waters. To this day I hold back pain and tears because I know it causes a visceral reaction in men. “What the fuck are you crying for, that doesn’t solve anything,” they would say. I could never express the gravity of my abandonment issues, I could never level with a man about my depression or anxieties in any relationship because my traumas would always be diminished to dramatics and acting overly emotional. I was even called an emotional manipulator and I owned that title for quite some time. Clearly something was wrong with me. It was my issues causing these men to cheat or emotionally abandon me. I wasn’t good enough.

I swallowed my tears and toughened up accordingly. I came to the table with facts, a clear head and a basic desire to be treated with love and respect. I found myself being set on fire, gaslit into oblivion and treated as if I wanted too much. No man ever said to me “I was wrong, and I’m sorry,” in response to standing up for myself. I always found out about infidelities far too late in the game because I am the woman and I am supposed to trust first… right? If he tells me he’s not cheating I need to respect it and stop bothering him like a crazy black woman. We are all crazy! If I make him mad enough with accusations, then he would be justified in being unfaithful. If I notice inconsistencies, I have no choice but to let it go. That is how you support a man– you pretend to believe his lies until you’re numb.

The past year of my life I have felt a shift. I can produce a detailed timeline of when and how he fell out of love with me over the course of a 3-year relationship. I watched it happen in silence. Sometimes I spoke up about it to him, but those conversations only speed up the unraveling process. A man will take you from queen to peasant so gradually that you don’t even notice until you’re home alone on New Year’s Eve or performing on stage and returning to your chair alone as always. There is no one to cheer for you, to hold your hand or drive you home. You find yourself alone in your own relationship.

I stopped making excuses for these men. I just buried the pain away because I’m a mom and I have a career and so much going for me. I stuffed it down because I don’t have the mental capacity to deal with my issues of self-worth. I casually dated a young guy a few years ago. He said to me, “I’ve taken other women out on real dates I just never have with you.” There was a flash in my mind of those wild days, men coming to my door with a bottle of whiskey and a smile. No dates. Just my empty search for affection and their desire to get their dicks wet. A few were fascinated by my quirkiness, but it was never enough to keep them. It never made me worthy of anything substantial.

I stuffed it all down. He told me what I needed to know: there are women who are worth it and those who are not. I was not.

Throwback post and a throwback poem from the archives!

Trigger

These recent cases of women coming forward to accuse their oppressors is triggering me. I didn’t expect this amount of pain to come to the surface and rear its ugly head. I’m just so confused. We ride for men, we don’t snitch on them, right?

In exchange for them filling the voids of our emotionally absent fathers and boyfriends we allow them certain tendencies. What kind of weak bitch does that make me if I admit just how uncomfortable dick pics are? That’s no fun. It’s greedy to expect a man to care about who you are and what you’re about AND pay attention to all that ass! He’s going to choose that ass every time. His homeboys are there for shooting the shit about dreams and building camaraderie. It’s our job as women to take care of them in all the other ways.

I was taught through many examples to stand by my man regardless of my own happiness and fulfillment. Black culture teaches that turning on a black man is the worst thing a black woman can do. I once called the cops on my obnoxious neighbor and my mother reamed me out for possibly endangering his life. (He continued to intimidate and threaten me over the incident until I moved out. I remained silent about it because I knew my husband was not the type to defend me or involve himself in the situation. I simply had to pray that it never escalated beyond verbal bullying).

Black men are an endangered species and through the years have proven most dangerous to my psychological wellbeing. I don’t know how to reconcile those two facts.

Now that educated and independent women are on the rise we’ve been elevated to gods and expected to do even more. We should be honored to be side chicks! We need to protect our men and submit and cook and clean and ride for them. If he hits you, you can’t call the police. If he cheats on you, you have to become a detective and figure out what you did wrong. It’s your fault for not keeping him happy. Life and society have torn the black man down, we must be a source of peace! My heart is in turmoil, I have been let down and lied to and made to feel so small and worthless and not good enough by the very group of people I am supposed to protect. While black women are protecting our men, who is protecting us?

Trauma Does Not Equal Drama

I resign, black man. I used to write passionate poems for you to remind me why I loved you. Maybe I really wrote those things to drown out the voices in my head crying out in pain.

I can’t allow another man to inflict damage upon me without taking responsibility for it. I can’t allow another man to introduce trauma into my life then accuse me of being dramatic when it’s time to work through our issues. I cannot play these games that men and women silently play but no one ever really talks about. It’s not a stabbing or a shanking it’s tiny little cuts that lead to small infections until it begins to spread. It’s all over my skin and I have never been able to properly heal.

If a nigga would show up just one time with a pack of band aids and some antiseptic maybe I would have it in me to try. But you keep throwing salt on the wounds created by you and the men who came before you and I can no longer expose myself to that kind of abuse. Gaslighting is abuse (I could write a book). Name calling is abuse. Abandonment, both physical and emotional is abuse.

I don’t have the energy or the desire to woo or impress a man anymore. Every time I have fought to assert my worth It has meant nothing. I have no desire to save or fight for a man any more after being hung out to dry and left completely alone and unprotected too many times to count.

I no longer feel the obligation to love you. I’m done.

*Leave your thoughts in the comments and stay tuned for the sister post to this blog: Please Don’t Leave Me: An Accountability Post coming soon!

Summer Losers: Part 1

Posted on July 7, 2019 by WG under The Crazy

Summertime! A collective warmth has spread over us all as the desire to shed layers of clothing and inhibitions run rampant. The cuffing season buddy from the colder months is left on read and we hit the streets with alcohol pumping through our veins and Lizzo on our playlists. As black women embrace sisterhood, self-love and shea butter I must say it’s shaping out to be an amazing summer for the ladies. Another summer prediction of mine—the men will lose.

Summer Dating Fail
Each summer my kids go off to Virginia Beach to live their best lives with family members and I find myself with extra free time on my hands. The thought of dating always starts out as a cute idea until three weeks later when I am looking at my message inbox like “How the hell did this happen?” Yes, casual sex can be fun but I suppose I don’t remember when it became the only available option. No one seems to want to meet up, be cute and flirty and go with the flow anymore. I am not speaking of the ambiguous “go with the flow” men toss out as an option when it really means they are trying to trap you into a situationship. I am speaking of going with the natural flow of fun hang outs with sexual tension in the air minus the useless “wyd” texts and dick pics. I understand how males feel about sex, like WE ALL GET IT! I just didn’t realize that sex became the only thing males think women are capable of offering. (And it’s a shame that things have shifted in this way during a time when I think women are at our most interesting and self-actualized!)

Planning a date with a male is like pulling teeth because he’s likely not going to plan

anything. Personally, the story I always hear is that he prefers to hang out a few times before deciding whether a woman is worth it enough to take on a date. This is because we are known to use men for free food. HAHAHAHAHAHAA—first of all, food is #BAE and I’m not about to sit in your whack ass company at the local TGI Fridays just because it’s free. I have a job I can pay for my own meals so finessing one out of a nigga is not really my ultimate goal in life. Second of all, what usually follows the “I don’t pay for dates” conversation is the “I’d like to come over watch some movies and chill” proposition. Personally, I have no problem with this because I used to be a hardcore Come Over and Chill girl but you really have to peep when a woman is in that particular mindset. I would like to get into these Black Mirror episodes minus all the heavy petting and small talk because being alone is dope. I am more weary about inviting men into my vibe because usually they don’t have anything to bring to the table but a hard dick and maybe some alcohol.

A come over and chill date can perhaps start off well with some insightful conversation and a roll in the hay but too often has ended with a stream of empty “wyd”, “how was your day” texts and aggressive efforts to arrange to come over again. What you don’t know is that this time when he comes over he has zero conversation, zero personality, zero game and zero bottles of vodka—he has shown up with the bare minimum plan to get his rocks off and get the hell out of there. All of that is fine and good, but males miss out on the best pussy by not showing respect or interest in the woman attached to it. Casual sex is no strings, but we are not prostitutes or flesh lights! It would be nice to share a joke or two or establish basic comradery/familiarity before you attempt to keep filling our bodies with your mediocre penis. (And that’s me being a little mean because there is surprisingly a lot of great dick out there, however you lose points when it’s attached to your shitty personality).

Furthermore, males (and some women) still surprisingly stick to these antiquated viewpoints and lose respect for you if they feel you have allowed them sex too easily. I think this is bizarre and hypocritical for obvious reasons but on top of that I don’t understand why women have to do so much auditioning to prove to males that our self-worth is intact. With all due respect, fuck niggas opinions! I am writing this blog and the males who read it are likely to take immediate defense without attempting to understand the POV in its entirety. Also, some will likely start searching through my social media to prepare their “this bitch is ugly and bitter” defense. I probably would be bitter if masturbation and tv didn’t exist but I’m okay. Also, lack of “beauty” is a card that males tend to play without realizing that they are perpetuating the idea that if you are not attractive your opinion doesn’t matter and that would take a separate blog post to unpack how deeply problematic that is. And anyway, I write this blog post more as an empathetic person whose main desire in this world is to make meaningful connections with people. I share my personal opinions and experiences as a woman, writer, poet, mental health advocate, etc. and I receive plenty of DMs, comments, emails and conversations from women all over who feel similar. If you follow any meme account that is geared toward women, you will plainly see that women’s connection/intimacy with males is slipping into oblivion because there doesn’t seem to be any real effort on their end. The whole thing is silly to me because the effort it takes for males to be so boring in their whack ass game and lazy texts, they could actually just be themselves and probably drown in endless pussy because they are finally presenting something authentic.

We’d Rather Be Alone Without Your Bullshit
These millennial artists write lyrics chock full of dysfunction, but we’re smart enough to enjoy the melodies without adopting the mentalities. If you come with bullshit we don’t want no parts! This is because, black women are doing the work. We woke up! We don’t want to be depressed anymore, we don’t want any more toxic baby daddies and bottom bitch relationship positions. We have our careers and independence and now we are seeking the stable mental health to go along with it.

Black women are putting in the work—what does that mean? Great question! It means…

We are seeking mental health counseling
We are practicing self-love in word and in deed
We are breaking cycles of pain and learning to recognize and escape all forms of abuse
We are redefining “strength” by no longer associating it with the amount of pain we are able to endure
We are calling out toxic behavior

The main result of this movement is that women are learning not to attach our self-worth to the opinions and standards of males. The end result is less confusion and turmoil in a woman’s life because the standards of males are all over the place so it would be impossible for us to attempt to live up to them anyway. How can you strive to sleep around and collect bodies of women you can’t hold a conversation with then expect to settle down with a virginal, good woman that has the body of an Instagram model and attends church like a deaconess? (She also cooks, cleans, throws it back like a porn star and raises your perfect babies– what exactly are you doing in this scenario and how does this seem like anything but a punishment to any independent women?) Furthermore, respect from males seems to be tied to whether they deem a woman is a hoe or not and has nothing to do with personality, accomplishments, how a woman runs her own household, shows independence or flexes her entrepreneurial skills. We can no longer keep up with this invisible “dope chick” scale of standards males are using to determine who is wifey and who is only good for sex– so we’ve adapted by not caring the male opinion at all.

Another wonderful result of women putting in the work is that “pick me” bitches are starting to be outnumbered. We are moving into a sisterhood of support and standing up against toxic male behavior because we realize there is more to life than having a man and settling down. Some of us don’t even want to settle down, we want to travel and pursue our individualistic passions. Fuck your “come over and chill” there is an entire world out there! Hot Girl Summer has less to do with waiting for a nigga to think we are worth the trip to Ruth Chris (which there are nicer restaurants than this, do a fucking OpenTable search ONCE—find a restaurant you personally like instead of doing the same shit everyone else is doing!) and more to do with the liberation of not having to care about a male’s opinion one way or the other. You can own your own hotness minus the thirsty DMs and heart eyed emojis from niggas with empty intentions!

I am so sorry but you all did this to yourselves. As our respect and love for ourselves grew, we attempted to shout it to the rooftops—beefing up our selfie game on social media and believing in the mantras and affirmations to boost our own self-esteem. For every 5 positive posts of a woman loving herself there’s at least two toxic comments from some nigga trying to bring her down. Then we get called hoes for quoting City Girls without realizing that the lyric we quote the loudest is declaring that we no longer care about you. “Real ass bitch give a fuck about a nigga” is our shit because we feel it so hard– most of us can take or leave the rest. We are not for real off some City Girl stuff we got babies and jobs, just like you don’t cook drugs and are not a billionaire. Males are butthurt and defensive because they think we’re up to silly hoe shit trying to finesse money and meals when really, we’ve just wanted the bare minimum of effort and respect.

We stopped explaining this because males don’t listen and because the response is never to simply try a little harder. The response is usually to degrade women even more and at the very worst try to attack our self-esteem by making vicious comments about our looks. In my opinion, males are the grinches who have attempted to snatch the fun and freedom out of summer by….

inserting the opinions of their male gaze about women’s bodies (hair, makeup, etc)
by refusing to develop the basic social skills to flirt and show baseline interest in women
and by using technology as a database to collect empty interactions instead of finding a few women you can actually be yourself with and enjoy their company thus enhancing the casual sex appearance for everyone involved and not unnecessarily wasting anyone’s time.

I personally choose to assume that males have become so uninteresting because they have overloaded their rosters and don’t have enough personality to spread around. I have to believe this because it is truly depressing to think that you all might actually be this boring.

*an actual text conversation I’ve had*
Me: What do you want from me?Him: To get to know you better
Me: Oh, cool so what do you want to know?
Him: Everything in due time *proceeds to send 4 consecutive “good morning, beautiful” texts with his picture attached for the next week

Me:

Summer dating is a bust, my ladies. Let’s pack up the rental and have a beach photoshoot by our damned selves because none of these niggas are about that life. Let them walk around pale asf this summer waiting on the right woman whose ass is big enough, skin light or dark enough, toes perfect enough—or whatever the standard is these days. I can tell you what the standard is not: being a multi-layered individual that has more to offer than a warm pussy, cool apartment and Netflix account.

But Wait, Is There More?
Men lose this summer because self-love wins. Fuckery gets blocked or ignored and we are no longer accepting “that’s wild” as an adequate response to what we have to say. We are people, not just pussies and if you want access to the precious it’s really not going to kill you to be an active listener over some ice cream, or walk in the park or *insert date activity that involves some kind of bare minimum planning on your part*.

I have much more to say on the topic, including a breakdown of the different types of male summer losers and even some cheap ass, free ass date ideas for the males who want to attempt at winning this summer. And seriously, I am super annoyed that I even have to write this because to be completely honest, most women don’t care about the money you have or your looks or status—we just want to be treated with respect and the baseline level of interest that most human beings are able to express to one another. If you are not interested in a woman enough to show her any real personality or true effort to get to know her as a fellow human being, then why are you so anxious to put your penis inside of her? When is it time for you to know YOUR worth, King?

But more on that later…part 2 coming soon!

The Obligation to Love Your Oppressor

Posted on December 1, 2017 by WG under The Crazy

“You know, you really wooed me. You are really something else,” he said softly. It sounded so kind, almost even like a victory but I knew better. It was a sentencing, deep down I knew it was my punishment.

He then went on about his business, bedding women and taking names later. I went about mine, traveling down a slippery slope of depression that led to too many losses to count. I deserved to be punished, perhaps. We were not in a committed relationship and everyone knows that those situations are best worked out when the woman remains loyal to a man allowed to do whatever he wants. I could never be that loyal, it never seemed fair to me, So after I begged him through the ugliest of tears to allow me the label of being his girlfriend, he rejected me. I wandered into the arms of a married man and broke his shit up as badly as I had been broken.

The cycle of pain was a vortex that had me sucked all the way in. I always assumed I deserved all the heartache and pain coming to me because of karma.

Bubbling Over the Surface

We would make out and pet each other on my parent’s couch and when he left I burst into tears and I never knew why. Looking back on it, I wonder why he never asked me why I cried. We were young–19 and 20– but isn’t that old enough to care about the woman you are with? Did this intimacy we created with our bodies mean nothing to his heart? He never cared about my tears well into our marriage. Some nights I slept in the bath tub or on the bathroom floor devastated that we were falling apart and I couldn’t save us. I was the only one fighting for us and it was taking its toll and wearing me so thin. I still don’t know why I absorbed the weight of the entire marriage on my shoulders–maybe because women are the keepers of love. We fight for it and we are expected to make it work, regardless.

I swallowed my tears and toughened up accordingly. I came to the table with facts and a clear head and a basic desire to be treated with love and respect. I found myself being set on fire, gaslit into oblivion. No man ever said to me “I was wrong, and I’m sorry,” as the end result. I always found out about infidelities far too late in the game because I’m the woman and I am supposed to trust first, right? If he tells me he’s not cheating I need to respect it and stop bothering him like a crazy black woman. We are all crazy! If I make him mad enough with accusations then he would be justified in being unfaithful. If I notice inconsistencies I have no choice but to let it go. That is how you support a man– you pretend to believe his lies until you’re numb.

The past year of my life I have felt a shift. I can produce a detailed timeline of when and how he fell out of love with me over the course of a 3-year relationship. I watched it happen in silence. Sometimes I spoke up about it but those conversations only speed up the unraveling process. A man will take you from queen to peasant so gradually that you don’t even notice until you’re home alone on New Year’s Eve or performing on stage and returning to your chair alone as always. There is no one to cheer for you, to hold your hand or drive you home. You find yourself alone in your own relationship.

I stopped making excuses for these men. I just buried the pain away because I’m a mom and I have a career and so much going for me. I stuffed it down because I don’t have the mental capacity to deal with my issues of self worth. I casually dated a young guy a few years ago. He said to me, “I’ve taken other women out on real dates I just never have with you.” There was a flash in my mind of those wild days, men coming to my door with a bottle of whiskey and a smile. No dates. Just my empty search for affection and their desire to get their dicks wet. A few were fascinated by my quirkiness but it was never enough to keep them. It never made me worthy.

I stuffed it all down. He told me what I needed to know: there are women who are worth it and those who are not. I was not.

Trigger

These recent cases of women coming forward to accuse their oppressors is triggering me. I didn’t expect the amount of pain to come to the surface and rear its ugly head. I’m just so confused. We ride for men, we don’t snitch on them, right?

In exchange for them filling the voids of our emotionally absent fathers and boyfriends we allow them certain tendencies. What kind of weak bitch does that make me if I admit just how uncomfortable dick pics are? That’s no fun. It’s greedy to expect a man to care about who you are and what you’re about AND pay attention to all that ass. He’s going to choose that ass every time. His homeboys are there for shooting the shit about dreams and building camaraderie. It’s our job as women to take care of them in all the other ways.

Black men are an endangered species and through the years have proven most dangerous to my psychological wellbeing. I don’t know how to reconcile those two facts.

Now that educated and independent women are on the rise we’ve been elevated to gods and expected to do even more. We should be honored to be side chicks. We need to protect our men and submit and cook and clean and ride for them. If he hits you, you can’t call the police. If he cheats on you, you have to become a detective and figure out what you did wrong. It’s your fault for not keeping him happy. Life and society has torn the black man down, we have to be a source of peace. My heart is in turmoil, I have been let down and lied to and made to feel so small and worthless and not good enough by the very group of people I am supposed to protect. While black women are protecting our men, who is protecting us?

Trauma Does Not Equal Drama

I resign, black man. I used to write passionate poems for you in an effort to remind me why I loved you. Maybe I really wrote those things in an effort to drown out the voices in my head crying out in pain.

I no longer feel the obligation to love you. I’m done.

Is Having A Man A Luxury?

Posted on November 9, 2015 by WG under The Crazy

As a woman, a black woman at that, I am first to admit that the quest to “have it all” is not an easy one. Juggling career goals, chasing my writing dreams and aspirations outside of the 9 – 5, involvement and engagement in the lives of my children, maintaining relationships with friends and family, carving out time for myself, and finding the time to affirm and cater to the man in my life is kind of like a never-ending whirlwind. At best it is an extremely fulfilling and hectic life; at worst it is enough to make me scream and pull out all of my hair. When the going gets tough—what on that list of things should go?

Last week’s episode of Being Mary Jane gave us a closer look into the life and times of Mary’s best friend and co-worker, Kara. Enter Kara: savvy career woman, part-time single mom trying to make time for her kids, navigate her strained relationship with her ex-husband and maintain a sexy affair with the generous and considerate man in her life. She flubs a school parent/teacher meeting, screws up her work schedule and has to stay late missing out on her date with New Boo who was kind enough to bring takeout dinner to her place of work, along with a shoulder to lean on. THIS is a good man. However, in the eventual reorganization of her life goals and priorities, at the end of the episode HE was the first to get rifted. I….do not get this.

All the ladies, independent—put your hands down, have a seat and listen. I suppose it is nice to tout things like, “I don’t need a man,” “I take care of myself” etc—I get it. But it’s also REALLY nice to lay on a warm, hairy chest (or no hair, whatever you like) and vent about your stupid co-workers while shedding tears of sheer exhaustion. It is wonderful to be down to your last two dollars and have someone hand you a twenty dollar bill and make your broke ass some dinner. Dare I even mention the joys of sexual healing? Moreso than that, does anything beat the comfort and security that comes along with sharing intimacy with a person who has seen you naked in body and in spirit? We have friends and family that we are close to, but it doesn’t get any closer than the person who leaves a wet spot on your sheets after lovemaking, who talks to you about deep life events while taking a massive shit and snores softly in your ear some mornings—the smell of their morning breath fresh on your nostrils. All these things are not a luxury to me…they are a gift.

I struggle so much. At peak schedule I try to do at least two poetry open mic events a week, I scrape in time with the kids—and honestly most of that time I spend curbing my irritation at the things they didn’t do, or the last minute homework or project or doctor’s appointment that is being thrown my way. The morning is a flurry of activity getting the kids ready, the painful commute to work, the pretending to be a nice person at the job for 9 hours, the hustle home—and somewhere in between there’s maintaining social media accounts to advertise the blog and actually writing and posting original content for the blog. By 10pm I am lying in bed fighting back tears because I know I need to take my out of shape ass to the gym. So I go. I am sweating on the elliptical, hating life and wishing for death –when I get the text that my man is finally home from his 12 hour workshift. I push a little harder on that last 15 minutes of cardio, I leave the gym with pep in my step and I drive 20 miles up the highway to get to him by 11pm at night. Just before I see his face I feel this tension in my forehead and I think to myself, “Why am I doing this? I can’t live like this—something has to give!” He opens the door smiling brightly, immediately makes me laugh and gathers me in a hug every time. Weight=lifted.

Never under estimate the life that a loving relationship can breathe into your soul. I am barely sleeping trying to maintain it all but when I leave him I feel a hefty deposit has been made into my zeroed out bank account. Even if I just make it through his door and pass out on sheets that smell of him—it is enough to be that close to his comforting presence. The grind life, the busy life, the super single mom life is overrated to me. We are so willing these days to sacrifice interpersonal relationships when I truly believe that these are the only things we can actually take with us when we die. Companionship is awesome, and we allow ourselves to forget that because we are lonely and don’t want to admit our true desires or because we are so busy filling our time with being busy that we don’t have time to realize we might be missing something. In this day and age, having a man is not a necessity but I surely don’t see it as a luxury as it is sometimes perceived to be—especially to single moms. I love my children and somewhere along the way I learned that it’s ok to love myself and take care of my needs as well. Companionship–relationship adds to my life and who I am as a mother, writer, friend… person. We treat men as if they are expendable accessories then wonder why they have so much trouble committing to us. We want to parade them around on Instagram, have them buy us things and tell us we’re pretty then the moment life gets rough we try to drop them for fear of being abandoned in time of need or maybe because deep down we truly believe that they are a luxury that we don’t deserve to have in our lives.

If anyone has never told you: you do deserve to have a good man in your life if that’s what you truly want. You deserve to have help and affection and attention from someone who cares about you and your busy life. If you are willing to sacrifice sleep and time away for the sake of having it all, why not do the same for a person on your team whose goal is to help you along the way? Is a dependable, supportive, consistent and loving man in your life a luxury to be given up when the going of life gets tough? I think not…

	WG on Please Don’t Leave Me: A…
	LovelandArt on Please Don’t Leave Me: A…
	WG on Summer Losers: Part 1
	Tra Lin on Summer Losers: Part 1
	Summer Losers: Part… on Confessions of A Come Over and…

WG's Embrace the Crazy

A blog about life…unmedicated!

Tag Archives: black love

Please Don’t Leave Me: An Accountability Post Part II

Please Don’t Leave Me: An Accountability Post {Part 1}

Revisited: The Obligation to Love Your Oppressor

Summer Losers: Part 1

The Obligation to Love Your Oppressor

Is Having A Man A Luxury?

Share this:

Like this:

Share this:

Like this:

Share this:

Like this:

Share this:

Like this:

Share this:

Like this:

Share this:

Like this: