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!

Loosen Up! A Guide to Not Sucking at “Quarantine”

Posted on April 7, 2020 by WG under The Crazy

Author’s Note: I’m still a person financially recovering from previous unemployment who hasn’t been able to afford mental health counseling. Because of these circumstances, I have become quite skilled at practicing the art of holding my sanity together with a string. In other words, this is my SUPER BOWL! I have been unknowingly training for social distancing for quite some time now, so anything I say should be taken with a grain of salt because I clearly have an unfair advantage– but here are my thoughts anyway (because it’s my blog and I do what I want!)

As an introverted writer who is good to survive off strong Wi-Fi, the company of my kids and my man (if I have one) I’m obviously doing okay in the midst of self-distancing and chill. My poetry performances, speaking engagements and shows have all been cancelled or postponed, I’m working from home and the kids are out of school so I’ve been using this time to allow myself to be “bored”. [I totally understand that I am in a pretty decent situation with the convenience, luxury and privilege to be able to work from home. I will say, this does nothing to assuage my fears that special accommodations from companies rarely lasts when it begins to affect their overall dollar. Job security is on most of our minds regardless of our situations, so don’t hate– from the richest celebrity to the poorest of the regulars– all of our lives have been flipped upside down by this virus.]

Sitting in silence, reading, meditating, watching shows and chillin with two or three other people we enjoy is really not a problem for some of us. I mean, I LOVE to make my introvert jokes about myself but now that the world is in this predicament I am realizing how extraverted and type A most of society really is (or pretends to be!) Reading quarantine memes, tweets, articles, updates, etc. has ramped up the empathy I feel for my peeps across the globe, so during week 3 (or 4 or 5– I don’t know), I have decided to prematurely dole out my observations, advice and journaling prompts for those attempting to sort out and maintain their sanity while being cooped up with their loved ones.

She didn’t have to do a nigga like that!

A Particular Petty

Like I said, I love reading the quarantine tweets to laugh and be nosy about what everyone else is up to during this time of social distancing. From what I can tell, some of us are crumbling and that’s because… we need to loosen the fuck up! This pandemic is happening to all of us and no one gives a flying fuck where the good china dishes are supposed to be stored at a time like this. No, I don’t want to do my morning jog, I don’t want to shower or TRY today– times are weird and it’s ok to allow ourselves a chance to take a little time to adjust to the new normal. Not everyone sharing a roof with you is feeling onboard with your super particular expectations about where pillows should be placed on the couch or if the bed is made up correctly.

We are a tightly wound people who control the unpredictability of our lives by sticking to our own sense of routine and tidiness vs. those who likely live more spontaneously and are perhaps a bit disordered; all being thrown into even more chaos in the midst of the coronavirus pandemic. What solution is there for everyone to get along other than for everyone to loosen the hell up, respectively? We are staying inside for a purpose that is greater than how annoyed we are by the sound of someone’s loud chewing, or excessive eating of all the survival snacks. Perhaps we could afford to be petty about these things weeks ago but there has since been a paradigm shift.

Self-compassion is a thing (I am obsessed with!) and it starts with allowing ourselves to acknowledge that this paradigm shift is necessary, but also uncomfortable and scary, so it’s ok if we don’t have our shit together and are struggling to transition. As a result of uncomfortable scariness, we can sometimes take out our fear on others in the form of anger or annoyance, or project unfair expectations onto people who are possibly finding their own ways to cope as well. How we treat other people is often a reflection of how we treat ourselves, so if you tend to be hard on yourself during tough times it might be a good time to observe how hard you are being on those you share a space with as well. Your particulars and preferences are now petty and irrelevant. Getting along with others has everything to do with compromise, choosing your battles and an easygoingness that we have not promoted in this country at all because everyone wants to be a quick-witted asshole or a sassy-mouthed bombshell. Well, while we’re missing our hair and nail appointments and steadily feeling uglier by the second on the outside, let’s take some time to work on bettering the inside, shall we?

Who are you sharing a space with during social distancing?

Do you know how they are coping with the coronavirus pandemic and changes to their everyday lives?

Have you been honest with yourself about how you are coping with the pandemic?

Are there any behaviors that seem to be getting on your housemate’s nerves more than usual?

Are there any behaviors of others that seem to be getting on your nerves more than usual?

Are you reasonably annoyed/angered by these behaviors? Yes or no and why?

Don’t fake it until you make it! If at any point you find yourself serving “Shut The Fucupcakes” you may need to find a corner alone to meditate/woosah

Focus Your Empathy

None of us are in the best position here, even the most introverted and anti-social. Two things people enjoy, freedom and the company of others, are being regulated by the government for reasons most of us completely understand but also: this sucks. My personal theory, is that the 24hour news cycles, along with the constant barrage of GoFundMes and social media timelines filled with sob stories related to the pandemic is exhausting our empathy. With technology helping us to foster the feeling of global connection, is there a chance it could it also be draining our empathic resources for use in our personal lives?

If after reading and saturating with surreal news all day your only desire is curl into a ball and stare aimlessly or cry– then imagine the stress of what others under your roof are feeling? From your boo, to the kids, to the dog, there is a crackling of nervous energy and lifestyle change that is effecting every single living thing under your roof right now.

Are you allowing others to process stress in their own ways or are you so busy processing your own thoughts and feelings that you haven’t paid attention to how others might be coping?

What are some ways you can actively express or exhibit empathy to others in your household?

Finding Out What You Need

During times of stress I either shut down or I go into worker bee mode. Neither of these tactics deal with the issue at hand or are a direct solution to whatever my needs are at the moment. Recently, when I feel tension finding it’s familiar home in the furrow of my brow, I’ve gotten into the habit of asking myself internally: what is it that I need right now?

Every time I ask this question I’ve been surprised by how simple the answers have been. Sometimes a bitch just needs a hug, or an encouraging word or some time alone to think and process. A lot of what we need is inside of ourselves so we really have more control over external situations than we believe because we are built with the tools to be able to rescue and empower ourselves. Having needs from other people is also a valid need, albeit more difficult to ask for because there is the possibility that the other person is unable to meet our needs and dealing with a “No” always feels like rejection. Because it is…but that’s ok.

The purpose of assessing your personal needs during times of stress is to become more in tune and intentional about methods to self soothe, and it separates your own anxiety from the anxiety of others you may be carrying with you. Life happens to us at an accelerated rate, how often do we stop to take a moment to think about how our needs have changed and how to go about making the adjustments to accommodate those changes? The first step is to find out by taking at least a moment to examine what your needs are, especially for parents and caretakers who are so used to meeting the needs of others without even a thought of their own. It’s ok to think about or jot down your specific needs to help relieve your stress and to begin to brainstorm solutions even if they are not immediate.

The next time you are feeling stressed, make a list of what you need

*If you can’t tell the difference between needs and wants– write down both!

The bottom line of this random blog post is: these are strange times. You are no longer type A

intovert

Capricorn

unicorn

lactose intolerant

keto or whatever classification you used in normal life that required special accommodations for your ridiculous personality traits that render you unable to compromise or even be NICE to others for 3 seconds! Unfortunately, we are all just vulnerable humans right now…and some us should really give loosening up a try.

Tell me, how are you taking care of your mental health while shut in with loved ones?

360°

Posted on December 20, 2019 by WG under The Crazy

It has been one hell of a year!

In many ways I would truly like the year of 2019 to go fuck itself. However, I’m aware that I shouldn’t make such negative declarations because of the many lessons that life has taught me this year. I have had this premonition for a while now that I still had a major transitional phase left in my life, and from what I know of life so far, I knew that it was going to be ugly. This year has been ugly.

I started off the year making great money with plans to pay off debt, travel and to FINALLY be able to 100% support my children’s expenses. I write about what it is to be a single mother managing her own mental health yet it is always with the caveat that I am privileged to receive a ton of help from my parents and other family. I am grateful for the support, but I also feel like a failure as a mother who requires so much assistance. It has been a long-term goal of mine to relieve my parents of aftercare and babysitting duties forever. I could taste the reality of the making that dream come true this year. I finally felt as if I had my life together! I even had a cleaning lady, was on my way to good credit and looking for houses to rent for the girls to have a larger space to grow.

Fast forward to today and I’m working out deals with the leasing office of my apartment building to avoid eviction and I’m pretty sure my car is going to be repossessed this weekend. I have exhausted all resources and I am, quite frankly, completely defeated and not sure I have it in me to be a phoenix rising from the ashes YET AGAIN.

April Showers

My 35^th birthday was April 15th of this year. On April 2 I lost my job. A few days later I found out a friend of mine had passed away. A few days after that my car was rear ended on my way to a performance.

Back in the day, a series of unfortunate events used to be just what I needed to kick into high gear, motivating me to sacrifice and rebuild. This time around I knew I didn’t have it in me. I knew that I was going to have to take those upper-case L’s while allowing myself to slow down and face the failure and despair of it all. For the longest time I didn’t tell anyone I had lost my job because I felt completely ashamed and I didn’t want to deal with anyone else’s disappointment in me without first dealing with my own. I was also harboring a ton of fear and panic because my major worry was that I was no longer mentally equipped to juggle 9-5 office work. (At the time I did not realize that it felt pointless to me to work so hard toward goals that did not belong to me, and in my opinion, did nothing to edify the world. I later discovered that my true passion is to be employed in the nonprofit world).

Honestly, I buried away the stress of that job because the money I made was finally going to allow me to provide the life I only dreamed of being able to provide for my girls. I wanted them to trust that I could take care of them without anyone’s help. I wanted to be an example to them of a winning woman who could do things all on my own. By the time I resolved in my mind that I needed to figure out a way to manage my stress, quit my poetry and performance endeavors to concentrate on my career and building a life for us— it was already too late for me. When I am stressed and overwhelmed, I tend to shut down and I can’t think straight or make good decisions. These factors had already taken their toll in my work environment and it was too late to fix the mistakes I had made.

So, there I was: unemployed with an entire poetry tour booked and prepaid. There I was numb, unable to process the unexpected death of a friend. There I was just trying to stay afloat without swimming or treading water because managing my own depression already feels like drowning—if these waves were here to take me out, then so be it. The practical portion of my brain set up a plan to focus on full-time artistry, to maximize on the free time I had on my hands to write more, promote more, improve my marketing skills and use the money from my poetry performances to support myself in between finding a “real” job. My productivity lasted about a week before I began to panic.

And it’s strange because I started to live this double life. I was able to fake being ok (and even felt ok for the most part) for two months until my children went off to be with family for the summer. After that, I split my time between hanging out in my apartment binge eating and watching tv all day and on stages performing and hosting events. I didn’t want to “fake” good energy or feel like I was pretending at my performances so I came up with a routine that consisted of sitting in my depression all day, then an elaborate bathing, saging and self-compassion meditation ritual that I would complete before each show. I wanted to allow myself the room to still show up in my authenticity— a little weary and broken— but to also use performance to bleed out my anxiety on stage.

Delayed Flowers

I know that I didn’t act entirely responsibly during this time. I put off filing for unemployment because my brain didn’t want to go there. I wanted to triumph over the circumstances, but I wasn’t necessarily putting in the work to do so either. I couldn’t rise out of my depression, especially when anxiety and resentment came to sit alongside it. I resented how much I had to lean on others for help. I resented that I had to share my embarrassing story before asking others for help. I resented that I had to hustle more to sell books at gigs and to land more paying gigs when I just wanted to stay at home and sleep and write and cry. Whenever I allowed myself to think of my predicament and the future ahead my anxiety would build, and I would fall into a spiral of negative self-talk that would sink me into a deeper bout of depression.

At one point I had put off the thought of suicide so often that I had to allow myself a few hours to journal about the scenario because I couldn’t get it out of my head.

The Things I Tell Myself to Be OK

You are not a fuck up…

There are disastrous people on this planet who just can’t seem to get anything right. They blame others for their problems and seem to be in constant need of SOMEthing from SOMEone at any given moment. Their lives are one highlight reel of poor decision after poor decision while others stand back and observe the continuous loop of shit show that can be cringey to watch unfold. Some days I feel like I fall into this category or n’er-do-wells. I worry that my life will be a constant cycle of digging myself up out of the trenches only to fall back in again. What usually happens is that at a time when I need minimal help that can prevent a downward spiral, I end up trying to handle everything myself because I don’t like to put others in a position to judge my struggle.

In my first session with my recent therapist she said to me, “You don’t do well asking for help, do you?” and I thought to myself, ‘Of COURSE not!’ These days it seems to me that people go out of their way to make you feel like a loser if you need help. Or, without your knowledge, whatever deed was done by the Good Samaritan is kept on a scoreboard and if your actions don’t comply with what they expect of you in the future then you are forever villainized as needy and ungrateful. Which is yet another aspect of asking for help that I struggle with; gratitude. Most of us have a love language or some feeling we need to receive in return to help us feel as if we have made the right decision in helping someone in the first place. For me, I always thought the best way to show gratitude is to pay it forward but I’m finding that this concept doesn’t satisfy everyone. So, there is the anxiety of feeling like a total loser/fuck up for having to ask for help, on top of having to share my personal business with someone, plus trying to figure out the best way to display gratefulness. I have anxiety just thinking about it! I typically just opt to isolate myself and try to avoid the hassle of involving anyone else in my problems altogether.

I am working on it, along with working on self-compassion affirmations to remind myself that I am not fuck up for making mistakes and to not let anyone treat me as if I am. This practice is definitely easier said than done because in this world where everyone is so FUCKING perfect, most jump at the opportunity to judge someone facing a hard time—especially if you are a person who is (by society’s standards) supposed to have your shit together. Single black mothers are the most marginalized women in the world yet expected to be amongst the strongest. We are to sacrifice for our children, grind, hustle, lose sleep, earn degrees and smash our career goals to pave a better way and provide better for our children. I want to do that; however, I crave the outlet of creativity. Stage performance looks like self-indulgence and ego and selfishness, so I am not that mom. I know I am not that mom and I feel the shame of not being that kind of mom every day. Being different does not mean that I am a fuck up.

You have more control over your life than you think…

I say this to people all the time as much as I struggle to believe it myself. The worst thing about depression, for me, is feeling as if life is an unpredictable crashing wave that will drown me every time I think I’ve finally learned to swim. I become fatigued of feeling overwhelmed and powerless so I am constantly trying to find ways bounce back and stay afloat. This year has been especially difficult because I think my super black woman survival mode powers are temporarily broken. When it comes to fight or flight, I used to ALWAYS be the bitch to put up a fight but this time I allowed myself to run away. I was too weak to deal with the shame of being on unemployment yet AGAIN, on food stamps yet AGAIN, of harassing temp agencies for work yet AGAIN—so I made the very stupid decision to wallow in my own depression and hope for the best. I allotted myself time mourn and process the shame of my situation which ended up being the best decision for me, although on paper it looks like the worst possible thing I could have done.
When it became time to clean up my mess I did so without desperation and anxiety guiding my actions. I took time out to face the reality of my situation and to mentally prepare myself for the worst-case scenario which was: losing my apartment and vehicle and having to completely start over again. Once I was able wrap my head around those scenarios, I felt more powerful than ever because I knew that it would be difficult to rebuild again but also that it would not break me. I had given myself some time and some self-compassion both of which led me to feel as if I could mentally handle whatever life would throw my way.

It’s still ok to hope and dream…

I am working full-time again at a mental health based nonprofit organization. I am making about $12,000 less than what I used to make, which is a large hit to the lifestyle I had hoped to create for myself and my girls, however I am working to make sure this doesn’t deter my goals. I still want to be independent; I still want to rent a house and clean up my credit and all the other goals that seemed a lot more achievable when I was making more money. I can sometimes get caught up in the despair of a situation and say things to myself like, “Well, get used to living in a cramped apartment with your children because there is no way in hell you can afford anything more than this.”

I refuse to limit my dreams like that anymore. At this moment I am in rebuilding mode so I have no idea how I am going to accomplish those goals, but it would be silly of me to completely erase them as viable options. I don’t know what it’s going to look like, but I can remain determined and I can hold on to hope.

It’s ok to be the only one who cares…

I hate that I am the only one who cares about me sometimes. It feels lonely for the most part, but life doesn’t guarantee that others will care about your issues or about you to the extent that you want them to. I think in all of my romantic pursuits this has been my driving force; to find a partner that truly cares about my wellbeing and to have a partner to help problem-solve life with. Now I think I just accept the fact that it’s up to me to give a shit about ME. Sometimes others don’t have the capacity to care—which is legit, therefore it’s up to me to continuously rise out of the ashes to champion for myself. As I said, it’s an isolating feeling but it is definitely a better feeling than simply allowing myself to drown. If there is no lifeboat you just have to find the strength to save yourself by swimming to shore. This time around it was so so hard and honestly, I relied more on prayer and fate than anything. I barely had it in me to fight. I only knew that as long as I cared enough and had hope in my future and my children that somehow things would be ok.

Enjoy the sun…

On top of everything that has happened this year I have been struggling with releasing an emotionally oppressive past relationship, sexual assault, being separated from my kids (until I can financially rebuild) and other issues that I keep locked in my privacy vault that I am not comfortable sharing. There is a part of me that worries that happiness will never find me or that I will never be able to properly experience joy, but then I remind myself that feeling pain and sorrow so deeply means that I am also capable of experiencing deep joy.

I refuse to allow a dark cloud to hover over any joyous or peaceful moments in my life. I refuse to believe that there is always another shoe to drop, tough lesson to be learned or fight to be had. Sometimes in life, we simply reap what we sow and have to deal with the consequences of our own bad decisions. It is important for me to remember that bad decisions do not make me a bad person. I also do my best to sow goodness and kindness into this world—so when it’s time for me to reap those things I should allow myself to feast on the harvest.

In 2019 I finally acknowledge that I have been showing up a little girl in many aspects of my life. Six years ago when I started this journey—this blog and the Whiskey Girl brand—I didn’t know where it would lead me and only a few years ago I realized that this was my path to healing. Healing would be lovely if it were a one and done kind of thing but I can attest to the fact that there are levels to this shit! I have been so resistant to pain, rejection, heartache and abandonment that I allowed that little girl inside of me to take over and wreak havoc in my life. In 2019 I realize that it is time to let her go. It is time to clean up and handle my life as a woman. What I didn’t realize about healing my inner little girl is that I would go through a mourning process letting her go. I feel guilty for letting her down, for not showing up woman for her— and I feel sorrow that she didn’t get to experience the happiness I wanted for her. However, I can’t let her rule me any more and the best thing that I can do for her, to honor her and my children and my future is to finally overcome my patterns of darkness and make the conscious effort to enjoy the sun…

360°

A sign of growth is usually categorized as a 180°, meaning you have completely changed, done an about face and are no longer engaging in the same actions you were before. From the outside looking in, this year seems to have been a 360° for me. I travelled on a path in the past six years that has led me right back to where I was: rebuilding after major mental health and employment setbacks. I am even back working at the very same job I had two years ago when I just knew that I was on this upward trajectory of success and more money. I returned to my old job a little different than I was before; I am rebuilding a little differently than I have before. I am more grounded in my identity; I am less afraid of the unpredictable happenings of life. I am less controlling, I am wiser, I am freer. It has taken me years to get back to this place and when I made the decision to accept the offer to return to a career I had left years ago I did it because I realize it doesn’t matter how others view my progress. To others my life may look like a giant step in the wrong direction, but in my heart I know that I have returned to a place that is more suited for me except I am wiser this time around and determined not to take anything for granted this time. I will take a 360° over a broken circle any day.

I am complete.

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!

Parking Tickets

Posted on April 25, 2019 by WG under The Crazy

PARKING TICKETS (1)

My father refers to parking and traffic tickets as the “stupid tax” and he’s not wrong. Yes, it enforces the law but it’s also a great way for local governments to bring in some extra revenue. I live in the Washington, DC area which is a confusing place to drive, so as I have been racking up amazing performance and hosting opportunities around the area, I have also been racking up traffic tickets.

It’s really stupid, but I can actually explain. Let me walk you through the process…

Wait, I Can Explain!

I drive somewhere to a gig or to meet up with a friend. My mood is already anxious as I am trying to navigate (I have a very poor sense of direction) as well as curate my own mood by listening to soothing music or breathing deeply the entire ride. (Sometimes it takes a lot to maintain my good cheer! I don’t know when I became this person and I have mixed feelings about it, to be honest). Anyhoo, I likely misinterpret a parking area or I don’t notice that I’m going over the speed limit in a monitored area because I also daydream a ton so I don’t notice at the moment if I am breaking the law.

Weeks later I open the mail to a special envelope from the good ole Motor Vehicle Administration. My heart accelerates by a smidge and I feel a tiredness in my bones. Money is needed for the 12-year old’s field trip, we have to stop by the Target to replace the 7-year old’s broken headphones, I have to prep for a work meeting, I need to follow up on several emails, I have clothes to wash, I have dinner to cook…a nightmare to-do list that never fucking ends! Now here I am with this envelope of more responsibility that I am unequipped to handle because I’m lazy and prone to dropping the ball. Untrue.

Actually, I am struggling to function through my own depression.

I always say that the hardest part of living with depression is pretending to be ok all the time. One of the main reasons I am so transparent about my struggle is because I want the space to not be ok—I want people to know. Ok is for other people, sometimes it’s not for me. I think of everything I have to do and I find myself becoming overwhelmed. If I don’t take care of business people will notice and judge me for not being the perfect mom or even the perfect ADULT.

So, I end up in bed all weekend obsessing about all the things I need to do. Even if I have a productive weekend, I still haven’t put a dent in the laundry, or the blog post or washing the girls’ hair. The knowledge makes me want to bang my head against the wall and cry—which I do for the first few days of the next week. The chores I didn’t do over the weekend add to the list from the week before and swim around in my thoughts, increasing the anxiety and chaos that already reside there.

Any thought of taking care of parking tickets falls by the wayside.

Clean Up, Clean Up—Everybody Everywhere…

That is until I’m at the MVA for a full day each fall using my entire paycheck to set up payment plans to lift violation flags to renew my vehicle registration. I also have medical bills, student loans and miscellaneous bills that float around in the atmosphere unpaid. Since my separation from my ex-husband almost 10 years ago, I have left many “adulting” things floating around in the atmosphere unresolved. In recent years I’ve decided to start taking the slow steps to rebuild.

I told a friend of mine who totaled his car in a suicide attempt that, unfortunately, it is up to us to save ourselves. We find ourselves alone in our dark moments and it can lead us to make decisions or fall into a state of indecision that has negative repercussions on our future. Once the fog of depression clears (for those of us who survive it) we are sometimes left in even more chaos than we were trying to escape in the first place. The idea of picking up the pieces can seem daunting. I am still in the clean up phase of my own mess so I can’t provide a concrete solution but I can offer some ideas and suggestions.

Don’t be afraid to utilize your resources.

Recently I have been working on being more candid with my inner circle about my life struggles. I am practicing the simple art of reaching out when I am feeling low. Ultimately, I have to do the work of settling accounts, cleaning my house etc, but I have found myself pleasantly surprised by how friends have been able to step in and ease some of the pressure. Non-judgmental friends can be a wonderful sounding board to help you brainstorm solutions or connect you with other people who can provide additional help in the form of knowledge or valuable services. (Speaking of which—anyone good at taxes? Asking for a friend!)

Unfuck yourself!

When I think of my running mental to-do list, I feel FUCKED. There are one million things I need to accomplish just to keep my household running. I have now also made a list of other items that are less time sensitive but still necessary business that I need to handle.

Don’t be afraid to write it down! How are you fucked? List everything, the big and the little things, then close the list and walk away from it for a few days. Come back to the list and start brainstorming ideas and/or coming up with a plan for how to resolve the open-ended issues in your life. You may find that some of the issues causing anxiety are quick fixes or are simply a matter of research and the right resources.

Bonus: if you need the emotional release you can also jot down your personal feelings associated with each task and the specifics of why you find it stressful or why you’ve been putting it off.

Take your time.

I don’t know if you can tell but I like writing lists 😊. My problem is that when I am confronted with a list it is accompanied by an accelerated heartbeat and the feeling that IMUSTACCOMPLISHEVERYTHINGONTHISLISTRIGHTTHEFUCKNOW! That feeling is my own personal anxiety bullshit that I need to overcome. If your credit is bad, paying a past due bill is not going to increase your score overnight. If you need to clean out your cluttered house for peace of mind, you can start the project in phases instead of feeling as if it needs to be done all at once. Society runs on a sense of urgency but that culture does not have to be a part of your personal mindset. Yes, life is short, but you also have time—it’s a great paradox. Take advantage!

Practice preventative maintenance.

therapy

Overcoming bad habits that I’ve picked up during my low moments has been a journey. It is not an easy thing to teach yourself how to be mentally strong but the good news is that you don’t have to do it alone. Mental health professionals and counselors are not a sign of weakness but of accountability and sometimes, getting ahead of an issue before it becomes a full-blown problem. In addition, a simple thing to do would be to consciously work to break past behavioral patterns. Now, if I get a ticket in the mail I’m more inclined to set aside 5 minutes to pay it right then, or be sure to budget it into my next paycheck before the fee doubles and I end up feeling double-fucked. (Of course, the best solution to get ahead of these things would be to pay more attention and work harder to be a traffic law abiding citizen!)

Fuck the haters!

No one understands the life you live but you. The best thing I’ve ever done for myself was to stop caring about the opinions and expectations of others. I didn’t sell any cookies for my first year Girl Scout this year because I was going through a rough time during the last half of last year and struggling to balance work, parenting and my own mental health issues. Most of my guilty feelings about it stem from being the only mother in troop who didn’t sell cookies but honestly, I’m not all that upset about it and neither is my daughter. Next year we are going to kick ass with sales because we know what to expect and I can mentally prepare for it. The entire point of enrolling in Girl Scouts was because she wanted to participate in the activities and hang out with her friends. That mission was accomplished and then some—the cookies can wait.

I am a huge fan of assessing situations and figuring out what can be done to relieve some anxiety so that my problems seem less daunting and goals more attainable. Sometimes it can look like riding the bunny slopes of life but if that’s what I need before I can climb big mountains, that’s totally fine. Those who are gliding down huge slopes should really be focused on their own business instead of paying attention to what I’m doing anyway. The secret is…most of the time the are!

In Conclusion

If you are mentally strong, this post likely does not apply to you. I do, however hope you read anyway because there are likely people in your circle who seem very happy and well put together but may be well skilled at hiding their depression from others. If someone were to reach out for help or a listening ear it is my hope that more people will learn to practice compassion and judgment-free listening. I think it’s silly how the world falls apart with shock at celebrity suicide deaths and murmur things like, “Wow, you really just never know.” Correct, you never know what demons others face on their personal journeys but you can choose to be a light. Empathy and love are a scarcity in this world and I just want to do my part to provide the other side of the story to promote understanding above all else.

I also want to stress two final points.

Struggling to keep your shit together is not only a symptom of those who are on the low to high functioning spectrum of depression. A sudden slump in productivity and overall dreading of every day “adulting” can also be a sign of burnout or a part of a larger issue (i.e. the side effect of co-dependency which can find you so wrapped up in caretaking for someone else that you forget or can’t find the will to take care of yourself).
I am not a psychologist, counselor or trained professional. I read a ton of books and I research to find ways to make the journey a little easier on myself as I navigate life as a person who “thrives” with mental health issues. I share thoughts and reflections on my journey because I want people to stop projecting their own perfectionism and mental competencies onto others. We are living in a tumultuous time in this world and the good people who spread love, who are vulnerable, empathetic and sensitive are in need of a little extra support and strength.

start over

Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

Coffee with Whiskey Recap: Finding Gratitude

Posted on March 9, 2019 by WG under The Crazy

I am on several journeys…

-to live more authentically

-to live life more abundantly and as depression free as possible

-to learn discipline by taking control of my compulsive habits

-to find balance between chasing my dreams and active motherhood

-to practice gratitude

That last one nearly flew out the window altogether this morning when I woke up to discover my car not in the neighborhood parking spot where I left it. Lately I have been meditating on what I am grateful for in an effort to combat my negative thinking. If I don’t reel in my negative thoughts they have the tendency to spiral out into full blown mental distress, so taking a moment to think about what IS going right in my life has been helping me to curve my thoughts. However, once I realized my car had been towed I knew I was in for a stressful day. My morning alone consisted of several calls to the bank to release funds from a check, several cab rides (to the bank, home, bank, towing place) and countless deep breaths of me just trying not to snap. Focusing on the positive was not helping me, I had to dig down into the nasty stuff.

I was feeling resentful. I resent that small setbacks have the power to mentally derail me. I resent that sometimes I don’t get to take the mental health breaks that I need to recharge. I resent that when I have to cancel an event or obligation I have to reveal to others that I am not doing as well as I’d like to be doing or as well as I sometimes portray. I resent that I have to decide whether to let the kids know when things are going wrong or whether I should hide it from them and continue to pretend everything is ok. I want to be transparent with them but I also don’t want them to worry that I don’t have a grip on my responsibilities as their parent. These were the thoughts crowding my mind and causing anxiety– yet somehow, by naming my thoughts and the feelings of resentment behind them I began to feel a little better.

I realize I was only doing half the work. Practicing gratitude is not the sunshine and rainbows of thinking only happy thoughts to push away the negative thoughts. The first step is to name the negative emotions, feel the negative emotions then to counter them with thoughts of gratitude. At least, this was the epiphany for me this morning and a formula I have found that is vital to my healing, coping and growth process. I have to feel and completely expel emotions by identifying them first, acknowledging why I feel the way I do and then thinking of positive aspects of my life I am grateful and thankful for that put me in a position to recover more quickly from potential depressive episodes.

Writing/Journaling Prompt

What’s eating you? Write about your different moods you have felt over the last few months. Is there anything weighing on your mind or subconscious? Are you in any physical pain? Is there a negative recurring thought that you have yet to address? If so, what do you suspect are the possible triggers? (Are you burned out? Stressed? Fearful of happiness? Etc)

What’s feeding you? Write about what’s made you smile over the last few months. Is there a consistent need in your life that is currently being fulfilled? How are you better off than you were the previous few months? Make a list of what you are grateful for. (This can be a living list that you add to throughout the day or over a period of time. There is no pressure to come up with a lengthy list right away!)

Tip: Definitely stay away from comparison to others. Gratitude has to do with personal progress, people, situations and things that you are grateful for in your own life whether considered a huge deal to other people or something small and seemingly insignificant that still warms your heart. You are free to take pleasure and find accomplishment in even the little things!

Bonus: I am also on a journey of practicing self-compassion. I am aware that I am functionally depressed to some degree and keeping up the façade of wellness takes its toll on me. The best way for me to go a little easy on myself is by realizing that I am not alone in this battle. Click here, to read an amazing blog post about high functioning depression and I challenge you to go a little easy on yourself. You are not alone. Life can be difficult– it is totally ok to admit as much while putting in the work that it takes to be ok. The road to wellness may be difficult but I am determined to believe that it is well worth it.

I apologize I couldn’t make the workshop today, but I will plan to see you Saturday, March 23!

Good Vibes Always

~Whiskey

I Know Why the Caged Mom Drinks: Tardy for the Party

Posted on February 18, 2019 by WG under The Crazy

Supermom

I don’t remember ever wanting to be a mother. When I was a teenager I fantasized about being married and having a great career, but that picture never involved children. At 15, my first job was at the Roy Roger’s across the street from my school, I would have been horrified had someone asked me to babysit their snotty-nosed little kids! For as long as I could remember, I thought of children as loudmouthed little rude people whom I wanted absolutely nothing to do with.

Fast forward to me at 21 years old, freshly married, waiting in the doctor’s office for pregnancy test results with my heart beating loudly in my chest. My husband (now ex, of course) was grinning widely—elated by the idea that just weeks after getting married we would soon be bringing new life into the world. I was heartbroken. We had literally just started our lives together, we were super active in our church, we had awesome friends and threw awesome parties, I had an awesome little figure I used to dress to the NINES in my awesome clothes. Now I was going to get fat and have to raise a child with barely any time to spend alone with my new husband. I was not happy.

When my daughter was born I was surprised by how instantly my figure bounced back and my maternal instincts kicked in (yes, in that order). I remember breastfeeding in my skinny jeans while my husband doted on me, thinking “Maybe this life isn’t so bad after all.” Then the storm came… I began to hate my marriage. I recognized that my husband was a great dad but not really that great of a husband. (This is the point in the story where I get really vague about the details that led to the ending of our marriage. There is a spattering of former mutual friends that likely read this blog and if the information got back to him I would look like the bad person so, I will skip the gruesome details).

We divorced. I fell apart. I still had to raise my then 3-year-old daughter and I didn’t really know how to do it on my own. I didn’t want to be a parent in the first place so how the fuck had I ended up raising a child alone?! In the beginning of our separation I had my daughter with me full time. After we figured out an alternating weekend tradeoff deal, I began to feel my freedom a little bit more. Or, so I thought. I spent my child-free weekends hanging out with friends laughing and laughing to cover up my loneliness. I constantly surrounded myself with people so that I would never have to feel alone. Until I was alone.

The Great Depression

I was lonely. When my daughter was with her father and my friends too busy to provide a distraction, I spent my time binge eating, drinking, crying and contemplating suicide. The loneliness was unbearable. I was naïve at that time, I had no idea that life was capable of such darkness and sadness. I had thought that those painful chapters in my life were over after the depression I suffered during my high school days. I knew I had to do something about it. I knew that I had to find love.

I needed a man’s love to pour into me. I needed a man to heal my broken heart and bring me to life again. I wish I could say that I rushed my healing process because I wanted to be well enough to become a better mother to my child but I wasn’t that emotionally woke back then. I was looking for balm to soothe my open wounds because at 25 I didn’t understand that healing is a whole ass journey and most times it is a lengthy one that can only be accomplished alone.

I sought love purposefully. I had a childhood friend I knew had always carried a torch for me, so I sought after him and prepared myself for a re-awakening. This was the man who would make up for all the pain that my husband had put me through. He would sweep into my life with right amount of affection and attention— he would appreciate all that I had to offer as a woman. I would slowly be made whole again… I had not taken into consideration that this man had lived an entire life since we’d last exchanged innocent, child-like flirtations. It hadn’t even occurred to me that I could have my heart broken twice in a row. I just knew that the next man I came across would be a savior.

When I found out I was pregnant with his child I was living with my parents after having given up the house I was renting. I was panicked, scared and, as it turns out, still suffering from depression with an added touch of low self-worth. How silly was I? Involved in an uncommitted sexual relationship with someone who was vague about why they didn’t want to be with me while struggling with their own personal demons. I was a doormat. I was a ball of emotions held together by his attention and approval. My pregnancy hit us both like a nuclear bomb—there was no time to react or think, we both just exploded.

I checked myself into a mental institution the night I realized that I didn’t have the guts or the violence to properly kill myself. I didn’t have the violence in me to have an abortion, either. I knew deeply that I would be unable to survive it. I held that razor in my hand, sobbing in the bathtub of my parent’s bathroom, cursing myself out for not having the balls to do the damned thing already! I barely survived that night. I spent my entire pregnancy malnourished and depressed. I worried I wouldn’t be able to love my child because I was too sad. I was prescribed Zoloft but I never fulfilled it because I was too afraid of who that would make me. I didn’t think there was anything that I could do to shake the feeling that I was drowning.

I spent years underwater.

Zombie

I was not alive for the first 3 years of my youngest daughter’s life. I still look at her in awe of how she is such a bright and happy spirit considering how completely broken I was when I carried her. I loved her instantly, but I still hated myself so my love wasn’t enough to raise me out of my funk. I was a single mother with two children, two baby daddies and suicidal thoughts. I was a lonely ass target for men to sweep in and woo me with empty words as an entry pass into my body. Sex was the only time I felt alive, the rest of the time I was just pretending. I maybe mentioned this in a blog post before but I still think of how my little girls used to follow me around our apartment watching me with their large eyes. Finally I asked them why and my oldest responded, “We just want to see you.” I realized at that moment that I was a zombie. breakdown

I still couldn’t do much about it or figure a way to dig myself out of my infinite sadness. It was around this time that a friend’s comment about my mental health pushed me into the decision to start writing again. I started this blog as a way to tell my story and to experience a release. I felt an awakening whenever my finger hovered over the “Publish” button for each post. I was surprised by the positive feedback I received and the fact that anyone even read my posts at all! I began writing poetry in journals at that time and came up with the idea to read them at local open mics to try to get more people to read my blog. I never imagined I would receive the kind of response I did the first time I shared one of my poems on stage. I was nervous but I was also tingling with excitement and anticipation—for the first time in a long time, something that I was doing felt right!

Awakening

For the first 2 years of my “career” I was selfish. My brother lived with me at the time and he was a homebody type so as soon as I put the kids to bed I was making my way to the next open mic. I learned something new about myself each time I hit the stage and I never felt more inspired to write. I was finally waking up, but it still didn’t make me a good mom. Well, actually I should practice some self-compassion here and say this: I ALWAYS had food on the table, a roof over our heads and a stable well-paying job to sustain us. I have always been the champion and poster child for functioning depression mainly because I didn’t want to be a completely shitty mother and because I cared a ton about how people would perceive me not having my shit together. (Low-key I still do not have my shit together. I have so much catching up to do from years of not properly taking care of my responsibilities—that’s a whole other blog post!)

The more I wrote, the more I expressed on the mic and connected to people who appreciated my point of view, the more I smiled. Instead of moving silently through our apartment or barking orders, I spent more time talking to the kids and getting to know their personalities. Who knew that I had spent years sharing a space with these cute little people who were funny and fun to talk to?

Motherhood has since changed so much for me over the past 3 years. In the beginning I worried about how I was going to pour love into little babies when I had no one to pour love into me. I was obsessed with my own loneliness—but once I began to write I was able to enjoy my alone time. Blogging and performing poetry started out as a release and ended up being a beacon of hope that has led to a complete change in my lifestyle and mindset. On top of that, hanging out in creative spaces with like-minded individuals helped me to realize that I was not alone. A great deal of us are suffering in life and artistic expression provides therapeutic healing.

Sometimes, in the middle of a dance party with my daughters or while gossiping about that day’s school events I marvel at how much I appreciate my life now that I find joy in motherhood. I had gotten used to living a life of striving for perfection but after I came to the realization that we are incapable, it relieved so much pressure! I wasted time anxious about screwing up motherhood, while I was screwing up motherhood by being anxious and depressed. I was focused on all of the wrong things. As it turns out, all I needed to do to be a good parent was to allow myself room to be imperfect and to actively pursue mental wellness. Writing, speaking, sharing my story and connecting to others helps me to stay mentally well.

DoItForYou I have wacky friends, I work too hard, I might be a little too honest and psycho-babbly toward my girls but it’s who I am. We all do the best we can with the resources that we are given so I’m sure I’m going to screw them up somehow—at least I am authentically myself. I now have a better understanding of my role not just as “caretaker” but as the person who will embed life philosophies into their little brains mainly by example. I’m tired because I work a ton but I am present. I am at Girl Scout meetings, nagging about clarinet lessons, organizing birthday parties, shopping, chatting, singing pop songs, doling out advice, embarrassing them in public and all the other bullet points to the job description of mother.

Showing Up Late

Have you ever showed up late to a really great party that seemed like it was doing just fine without you, but now that you have arrived everyone seems so offended by your tardiness that they ruin your good time? I have—it’s called motherhood. My least favorite thing about being a single mother is the stories people make up about my life because of their own perceptions. For starters, parenting is personal. There is no formula that every mother should follow and there is no official council that adjudicates how well or how poorly we are doing. The only measurement of success is that you do the best you can. Obviously, if you are prone to depression like me, then you have to find ways to do what’s best for your mental wellness so that you can be healthy enough to take care of your children. As I said, I still have pieces of my life I am mending back together because I allowed so much to fall apart when I wasn’t well.

It doesn’t help me to dwell on that fact. It doesn’t help me to scroll through my social medias and wish I were more like the supermoms who constantly post pics and updates of their children’s lives and seemed totally immersed in and fulfilled by the motherhood role. I have made a lifestyle choice that is frowned upon, why? Because single mothers are supposed to sacrifice and center their entire lives around their children? Nah, it’s just not me! To be completely honest, I think it is a stifling and super unhealthy and unrealistic expectation. Black women especially, we like being seen as strong and selfless but nobody wants to be depressed or stressed so we end up hiding that part of it from the world. My identity includes “mother” but is not the whole of me.

I just want to type it again: My identity includes “mother, but it is not the whole of me. I make sure my children understand this about me because I want it to be an example for how they live their lives. I think women have a tendency to bury themselves in motherhood because the process of finding out who you are outside of everyone else (after baby daddy dumps you, completely abandons the family or even dies!) can be daunting. Growth and self-discovery can be very painful, survival mode and coping mechanisms become our go-to moves. I don’t want to just survive I want to chase my dreams and individual goals while being a kick ass mom. As long as my children are happy there is really no need to care about how others perceive our lifestyle.

Party Schmarty

Lastly, I just want to share my biggest pet peeve of being a single mother: people seem to be so caught up on the terminology. As soon as you say it, here come the questions and inferences:

“Don’t you share custody with the fathers?”

“Do the fathers contribute financially?”

“Aren’t the children gone all summer?”

“Don’t you receive a ton of help from your parents?”

My close personal friends are aware of my reality, I do not understand why I am expected to explain this to strangers or people who perceive that women use the terminology to play on other’s sympathy. Do people want single mothers to suffer? Are we not single mom enough if we’re not working three jobs with government assistance as our only support system? I do have help. I do have family support. I save a buck or two by having the kids hang out at their grandparent’s house after school instead of paying daycare. I pack the kids up and have them stay with their aunts over the summer, I beg and bribe my siblings to watch the kids whenever I have gigs. They receive clothes and gifts and hugs and laughs and texts and birthday cards from a whole community of support.

The same community that can’t always be there. They are not there when I am lugging eight loads of laundry in and out of the car or when I’m three seconds away from a nervous breakdown while ironing uniforms for the next morning. Community is not there when I am in full blown, exhausted introvert mode smiling animatedly and engaging in deep conversation about My Little Pony. The Community does not make up for the absence of a father figure in our household. I feel hopeless and scared and exposed—if something were to happen to our family I would have very little to defend us. I put on a strong face and bear the emotional burden of raising those little girls while making sure my depression, wavering self-esteem and self-doubt never touches them. I am the main parent. I am the person who can do the most damage to their lives if I fuck this up.

I fucked up. I fucked up for years, but I am present now. I forgive myself for being late, I can’t dwell on it. My twelve-year-old is blossoming into a feisty little beauty, they are both hella smart, creative and fun. I’m just so happy to be at the party I don’t care what anyone else thinks or has to say about it! I am here now, and I am having a wonderful time.

legacypoem

Coffee with Whiskey Recap

Posted on February 8, 2019 by WG under The Crazy

Every 2nd and 4th Saturdays I have the honor of hanging out at my good friend’s art space sharing poetry and chatting about mental health and expressive journaling. If you are in the Washington, DC area I encourage you to join us anytime!

Last session, we had a meaningful discussion about the difficulty of letting go of the expectations of others. This can be especially tough when many of us are conditioned to seek the approval of our family members and close friends even when it doesn’t line up with our personal aspirations or our own authenticity.

It’s important to remember that true love and acceptance is unconditional. Learning to set boundaries and to release yourself of the pressure others may put upon you is a strenuous journey that may lead to the loss of relationships along the way. I assure you, the price of your own personal freedom is well worth the hardship you may experience once you make the decision to embark on this path.

Sounds easier said than done, right? Well, meditate on this!

Writing/Journaling Prompt

Write about a day in your life, 5 years from now, that reflects your idea of true freedom.

Are you working the same job? Do you have the same friends? What truly makes you feel happy and at peace?

(Tip: try to stay away from fantasy and paint a realistic picture–these should look like achievable goals for your future.)

Happy writing! I hope to see you February 9 for our next session💚

Good Vibes Always

~Whiskey

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WG's Embrace the Crazy

A blog about life…unmedicated!

Tag Archives: mental health

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Coffee with Whiskey Recap

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