Friday, June 19, 2009


I saw a psychic.

Desperation to retain sanity will make you do strange things. It will make you think that your issues, your experiences will be worth reading to others (hence this blog), and they will make you do stupid shit like key cars, spend money you don’t have and… see a psychic.

I haven’t written anything besides random scraps of paper for a few months now, because I was so overwhelmed with what was going on, that I did not want to live it twice. I wanted to forget my current experience, and just got too lazy, too bored, too scared to write it down.

The last time I wrote, I let out a stream of anger toward my friend, but was too much of a punk to call him on it in person. I was mad at myself for feeling as played as I did, and mad at him for doing it. Now, it just is. I am not mad, I just realize that despite your best efforts, people will not always see you in a way that is acceptable to you, and that is their right, just as it is my right to expect to be treated a certain way.

What I have also learned is that wanting to do something is not as easy as doing it. UNDERSTAMENT of a life, I know… LOL! Seriously. While I am proud of myself for eventually telling him how I felt, (and it was HARD – so HARD) I do miss our friendship. There have been times when I want to call him about something funny – we had mad jokes, then I’m like, nah… *insert deep sigh here*

So life has been moving on in a way that makes me feel as if I am in a dimension being run by somebody else. I felt like Jill Scott said in “Love Rain” (which is my favorite of her songs, by the way): You broke me but I’m healing…. (and I meant this abt my baby daddy – NOT abt the friend. He cut me deep, but didn’t leave a broken mess of Eve) Then this week came the true test: My baby daddy told me his girl is pregnant. Oh. MY. GOD.

I sobbed like… well, let’s just say I sobbed. And real talk, I am devastated by this news. Not because I want him or any more of his babies, but because…damn. In my heart, I know this has nothing to do with me. People have sex, people make babies…Shit happens. But in my heart? Ay dios mio!!!!! I feel as if he got his family while I’m still scrambling, I worry abt how this will affect my baby, how it will affect his ability to parent my son…. Man, listen. After he told me, I literally could not speak anymore. And ANYONE, and I mean anyone, who knows me knows it is impossible to render me speechless.

But I was. And hurt and confused enough to send me to a psychic who I hoped could see my pain in the cards, who might be able to tell me something abt what to expect, cause I was afraid to get out the bed for fear some new shit would be thrown at me.

So what do I do? I called my mami. I needed her comfort and guidance and for her to tell me “butch up! Life does not stop because some man did some stupid shit”. But my mom has dementia, and before I could sob the story to her, she asked abt him, and I had to explain that I had moved out, that he lived with her and that she was pregnant. And she said “oh no!!!!” Then 30 seconds later, she asked for him again. And before a fresh round of tears could fall, for me, for her memory, for my son never being able to know his Abuela the way I did. I got off the phone. And realized at that very moment that I am a woman, and I will not lose.

In the past year I lost my family, my home, my love, lots of my self-esteem, and I have been working hard to get it back, to feel like ME again. This is an emotional setback, but I dust myself off, get back on my own path, and make it happen for me and my boy.
And that is the bad news…. I AM, after all, EVE, every woman…and life can’t possibly be ALL bad, right? So here is a tidbit of news: I went on a date!!!!!! My first, real live date in 6 years. I had a blast!!!!! This Mr. Mention is a bit older than I am used to, he is 42. He invited me to brunch, and then we headed to the movies to see The Hangover. That shit is FUNNY!!!!!!! It was nice to have a man want me in THAT way, I was all confused, didn’t know how to act, or what to wear, but a sista worked it out, and we’ll be going out again. ;0) Owwww!!!!! I have been so horny lately that I was like hmm… the possibility of having sex again is on the horizon, but it’s amazing what catching a sale on batteries will do for you!! LOL!

Seriously, I want to have sex, but I am generally selective about who I give it up to, and that is a trend I must continue….

On the most important front, My son, he is GREAT! Told me the other day his favorite song is “Birthday Text”. In fact, he knew the song before I did. One day, he was like “mommy: girl, you know I,I,I,I,I,I,I,I…” LMAO!!!! I love him, respect him, and value him.

And on another front, big tings a gwan for me in a few months…I have a few irons in the fire right now….and if they all work out the way I am praying to God, Allah, the Buddha and everyone else up there to – it will be a life changing situation for me and my prince. Pray for me!!!!

Monday, April 13, 2009

Guess who's bizzack?!?!?

Back on the block.... etc. etc.
I was surprised as hell to see that the last blog I posted was on 12/23 of 08!!!!!!!!!!! Dayum, son! It wasn't because I wasn't writing, because I was, I was just trying to figure things out in my private just be. Plus, honestly,I was bullshittin. It's crazy how despite the best of intentions, shit can change. Like, some days I'd be like "Imma make dinner, work out, put the kid to bed, then post a blog, and one thing would lead to another and next thing you know, four months have gone by without me posting.

I am now 34 years old. WOW!

Real talk, I wanted to post, but somewhere around February, things started getting tough for a sista and I had to retreat deep inside myself to go to that EXTRA place of energy. You know that lint filled, IN CASE OF EMERGENCY BREAK GLASS place of energy and sanity? Well yeah... I have lived there for a few months now, and shit started getting so bad I was googling symptoms of heart attack. A few weeks ago I was diagnosed as being severely depressed. Ain't that some shit?!?!?! ME. MOI. If you know me, you know that it seems unlikely, but real talk, life is tough right now. I've had to clutch the pearls a few times in the last few just to be able to go from Monday to Tuesday.

What's good is my baby - he is 4 now, 4 going on 24. *deep sigh * I love my little man, even if now he is on some "I miss my Daddy" shit when he either gets in from Daddy's, gets in trouble, or feels whiny. It's a real challenge having to hit him with the "Daddy has to work, Daddy loves you, or it's ok ,honey...I understand. " Because it's not. A year later, it's still fucking not right, and if one more person tells me "well, you just have to deal with it", Imma be on the fucking news. One thing I have learned is that you can't expect people who have not been in your situation to understand what you are going through. Not really. And its ok. If I was with a whole set of bitches that felt like me, we might have pulled a Jim Jones and drank some laced KoolAid.
It's really hard to describe how I feel without making it seem as if I am still harboring some romantic feelings about my Baby Daddy (BD). It's SO not that. I just hate how he acts. Just real stank and always trying to push his chick in my face. We ain't friends, we won't be and just leave it at that! This morning I had a dream that I let a man in my apt, and for some reason, he knew his way around. So I leave him to walk around and something told me to pick up a hammer. Well, I turn the corner, and this mofo threw an ax at my head! The craziest thing is that before I went to sleep I had asked the man upstairs (GOD, not the bitchass Mexican in apt 22) to give me some guidance, and what came to me was "don't let him back inside your crib". To dream that someone was trying to decapitate my ass was a bit much. Happy Monday to me.

Then, to add insult to the injury, Dude started to act weird. Yes. That Dude. The one I wrote about, my boy... uh huh... him. He really pulled a number on a sista too. He hurt my heart so bad I felt like I had been kicked in the chest. I feel and felt dissed and disrespected as a woman and as his friend. What's craziest is that even after I "confronted" him about it - I am sooo bad at that, it took me a while to realize he never said "I'm sorry". He acknowledged wrongdoing, but never said what I needed to hear to feel as if he understood me. After it was all said and done, I apologized, but what I got was "I should have handled the situation better". Then I guess he wanted to throw me a bone, so it was "we can still talk". Umm...really? Gee, thanks. Did I come across so desperate?
This shit with ole boy hurts because I was a good - no, fuck that, great friend to him while he went through some shit. I was always "you are great", "don't get down on yourself", etc. etc. and when he had an opportunity to reciprocate, he chose not to. Shit that was important to me, he went above and beyond the call of duty to make sure he was distant. At the time, I felt it, but thought it was because he was sad/mad/depressed, and he wasn't himself. Imagine my surprise, shock and dismay when within weeks of his situation improving, he pulls a 180, and all of a sudden, says that he knew how I felt and didn't reciprocate, so he felt weird. Word? Woooow! When he was holed up in your crib, miserable as shit, I didn't see or hear about anyone else around,and this fucker was in constant contact. Hot tub @ his parent's? Call E.. What tie should I wear for the interview? Lemme call E. On my way home from the club and probably need to stay awake? E. Dick hard and need a li'l phone sex fix?E.
The crazy shit is that my girls were initially like "make sure he is not using you". And I was so defensive of him. "Dude?!??! Girl, you crazy! He would never do that - he doesn't have a single bone in his body like that - you got that wrong." It got so bad that when shit went down, I was embarrassed to tell my BFF for fear that she would say "I told you so".

What makes me feel stupidest is that this is kinda the second time we been through some shit like this. The first time, I was younger, and immature, and felt judged by him - I thought he felt I wasn't good enough for him, and despite what he says now, it showed in the way he treated me. I ate that, but somewhere deep inside, felt as if he looked down on me.
Now I see it must be that.
It's as if he was only my friend while his shit was fucked up and when the skies got brighter, he got to stop slumming. I know this to be true because even after I told him how I felt, the impression I got for his response was "well, too bad". Like, can a sista get an ecard, a phone call addressing the situation that I didn't initiate? It has let me speechless, the speed with which people can change.
This time around, I am more mature, and thought I was dealing with stuff differently. I knew I had a crush and didn't deny it, but wasn't sure what I want(ed) from him or anyone. I listened to him tell me about dates, gave advice, and didn't let how I felt influence what I said. I never once judged him, and was super supportive... I am just stunned and so hurt.

It's funny how money changes situations...

Tuesday, December 23, 2008

I am the keeper of my own heart.

First off, lemme start this one by sending out a great big, Rick Ross sized shout out to my BFF on her birthday. Wishing you all the love, peace, success, and Louboutins you can stand, and always.

My horoscope for today:
Tuesday, Dec 23rd, 2008 -- The boundary between friendship and romance can be a delicate one. Even if you are not seeking anything more, you can benefit from staying in touch with your emotions. It's not about taking any specific action or trying to attain love. The current lesson is about allowing yourself to fully experience the desires of your heart without making anyone responsible for your happiness.

Imagine my shock when I read this early this morning. It completely sums up the battle I have been having lately, and even the stars are with me. Just feel what the fuck you feel, and be confident that you can handle it. I don't need to be co-signed, just understood, and maybe not even that. Is it "easy", or "clean" for energy to be reciprocated? Of course. But I have learned that some of the greatest lessons come from things being far from perfect.

This whole year has been one in which I was forced to develop confidence. I was afraid to live alone, didn't think I could "make it", afraid to be single, although I already was. In many ways, afraid of being free. At first, I thought free meant being unclaimed, not wanted...

This morning, 365 days to the day that I realized my last relationship was doomed, I stood before the mirror a new(er) woman. I stood infinitely more confident than I felt last year, having experienced more in one year that in the last 5 combined. More emotionally stable, more sincere in my belief in myself, more... just more. In every way, both good and bad, but pleased with who and what I bring to the table.

Funny shit is, I even had a cordial and pleasing conversation with my son's dad today. I was surprised to feel... nothing. No pang of "I miss what we had", like I did so many times before, but a real hope that at some point, we could be friends and real partners in raising our boy. For the first time, I realized "this mofo will miss me and my talkative, excited for no reason ass". For so long, I was focused on what I had missed, I was too busy seeing that someone could be missing me too!

Today, I stood before the mirror a woman in progress, moving forward, understanding and valuing her blessings, knowing that although I fuck up a lot, my son still loves me, and is riding with me, and most importantly, NOT paralyzed by fear the way I was a year ago.

I have learned that life is not always fair, or fun, but the highs can be so high. Although I swore not to mention him again, I can also be fearless in saying that yes, I like my friend, and he knows it. I say it with no disclaimers, and no expectations. It would be nice and clean and simple to have my feelings reciprocated, but if they are not, it's ok. It is his choice, and he is entitled to feel any way he wants. His feelings have no bearings on mine. I will not be mad at myself anymore. I enjoy what we have, and am happy to have experienced it. The beauty of how I feel abt him is that...I FEEL!!!! I thought my feelings were numb, that I'd never like anyone again. Who knew? The heart is miraculous!

In this new year, I will stop feeling guilty, and extract all the joy I can from life, because when bad shit happens, it don't wait for you to be ready. I am the keeper of my own heart. How exciting it is to be able to see possibilty instead of gloom, to see the glass half full after so long of seeing it as half empty!!!!! Today, I take back the reins. I release my ex of the burden of making me unhappy. I gave him 52 weeks, and guess what, just like in Monopoly, I went around the board once. You can come on outta jail, buddy. This does not mean we won't have our issues, but I am getting out of the "victim" box. Ultimately, we can both come outta jail.

I am the keeper of my own heart. I am the captain of this mothafuckin ship, and I LIKE being in charge! I'm the Queen of my world!!!!!!

Wednesday, November 19, 2008

We can't be friends...

If we're fuckin.

I read many blogs, and the question of whether men and women can be friends if the get it in has come up A LOT in recent weeks. I had been wanting to write about this, but I didn't know what to say. Until now. Well, until yesterday. I had wanted to be all modern, to say that yes, you can (shout out to OBAMA), but....

Hells naw. At least not with THIS CHICK.

I don't know of any word(s) to describe a relationship where people are not romantically commited but they get it in, but I know one word it ain't: friends. I say this based on what I have seen and experienced. If at least one of the partners is discerning, if they are not fucking willy nilly, then they have more than a friendship. Point blank. As far as I am concerned, I chose to make you and keep you as a partner. Every friend I have does not get that privilege, so consider yourself special.

Accept it, then FWC: fuck with caution.

The same way a romantic relationship has to be discussed between the partners, so does a FWB (friend with benefits).
Here are some of the issues that should be discussed BEFORE engaging:
* Birth control
* STI testing
* Dating: Are you actively searching? What stage are you in? Have you met someone you like?
* Am I the only person you are sexing? Are you using protection with them? (to ME, it matters)
* Finish this sentence: If I get pregnant, I will:____________________
(it CAN happen, better to be upfront about it)

The funniest shit is that the Million Dollar question is rarely EVER discussed between FWB's: Why aren't WE a match? If you have a friendship, consider this person attractive enough to bone, the reasons why you are NOT a good match should be laid out and agreed upon. Granted, feelings change, but if you are not moving forward "for the sake of the friendship" consider this: In most cases, the friendship is already changed. Once he has had his head in your crotch or vice versa, the game done changed.

More on this topic later....

Monday, November 10, 2008


I’ve been in love a few times. I’ve had the fortune of having my love be reciprocated for the most part, but some of those times, I have had the misfortune of loving a brotha who wasn’t smart enough to love me back the way I wanted to be loved.

When you love someone who doesn’t really love you back, or doesn’t know how, it’s a strange feeling. As the lover, you perform to the best of your ability every day, you go above and beyond the call of duty, and you exist on hope. The hope that one day, this lover will see you for who you are, will appreciate your love, your effort, will appreciate you, will see your true value and love you back, and make your dreams come true.

Unfortunately for me, as a WOMAN, I never had that luck.

BUT – as an AMERICAN, On November 4th, I felt the euphoria of feeling WANTED. Respected, understood…VALUED. It wasn’t a personal victory, but Barack Obama’s election as the 44th president of the USA was mine nonetheless. It wasn’t just mine, either. As soon as I heard Charlie Gibson make the prediction, alongside my own whoops of joy, and my son right next to me high fiving me, I heard pots and pans clanging, windows being opened to scream, people whooping and hollering, and because I live in the hood, celebratory gunshots.

In the moments that followed, between text messages, and a tearful phonecall to my best friend, where she put an image in my head that gave me chills – little brown girls playing on the front lawn in their two strand twists and cornrows – how great is THAT! Between Sen’ari chanting “Obama – not McCain”, before McCain’s touching (I was touched) concession speech, and before Obama’s speech at the park that made rivers of tears fall down my cheeks, I watched my Harlem neighbors rejoice, felt the happiness in my own heart. As I kissed my son’s hands, I marveled at how different his life could be from mine.

The next day, I was still on a high. I get off the train at 57th Street and Broadway, and just stare out while waiting for the bus. It seemed that in the 24 hours since I had last seenthis block, the world had changed. It really had. I see an older Black lady, which is rare, because I had never seen a Black elder there before – it’s generally little old white ladies waiting, and she must have seen what was in my heart. She asked me “Isn’t today a great day?” We smiled at each other knowingly, understanding what was in each other’s heart.

Yes, it was.

Thursday, October 23, 2008

Thanks... I think.....

I believe in closed door blessings. Sometimes, what you don't get is as important as what you do get.

Where's the story? Well, here it comes: A few weeks ago, after a brunch/dinner with friends, I had a heated discussion (ok - argument) with a friend. She is angry at Black men, because they don't step up their game, and marry sistas. That is a whole 'nother blog, and probably a series of blogs, to be honest, but in her frustration, she stepped up her insult game and took it to a place I wasn't expecting - the "baby momma". In case you haven't been reading, I am a baby momma, so I was listening intently when the point she was trying to make shifted from "these bitch ass niggas out here" (which I can relate to as I have referred to many a man as a bitch ass) to "baby mommas are contributing to this problem because they keep on reproducing with these niggas".

Screech - "whaaat?!?!?!"

Wow. I felt like old boy in Shottas: "ya gone too far, Biggs..." She took it to a place where it became reaaal personal. As I calmed myself down from reaching across that table and giving her an old fashioned beat down, I reminded her that my son was the product of a union where there was love. I was not a guest on Maury, he was not some dude I wanted to just fuck, and not all baby mommas were no ambition having women who settled for just being with anyone.

My BFF was there too, and after I stormed out, I was kinda mad at her because I felt as if she hadn't "defended" me. For the next few days, I was disgusted everytime I thought about the conversation. You know those memories that come at you while you washing dishes, stirring your chili, and they make you so mad you start talking all up under your breath? That's what I felt. Rage.

By this time, my BFF and I had spoken, all was squashed on that end, but I was still ready to not EVER speak to this other friend again.

Then she emailed me, apologized for her words. I didn't reply.

A few weeks pass, and my rage dies down, and one day, I started to reflect on what she had said. I realized that although she was mean, I agreed with her on some points. I did think that Black men drop the ball on marriage. I had wanted to marry my son's dad at one point. I wanted to be validated as a wife, I wanted to have that public recognition, and fuck it - I put in work.... I earned my ring!

In fact, I still do, to a man that will love, honor, and cherish me and my son, and want me to do the same for him.

From that conversation with myself, what I realized was that maybe I was projecting on her, and reading more into what she had said because I was feeling so unrealized in love. I was disappointed, feeling as if people looked on me and my son with pity, or underestimate the depth of my feelings or effort in the relationship because I was not a wife.

I had to accept that she had some valid points. I had been with a Black man who didn't mary me. I believe he loved me, but maybe not enough. This conversation forced me to examine anger issues and insecurity I thought I had suppressed. It also opened up a world of questions.

Why was I so angered by her comments? Was it because they had touched a nerve? YES. Was I hurt by what she said because it had some truth to it, in my own life? YES. Was I upset that despite my best efforts, shit came undone, that I would always be lumped in the "baby momma" category,and not that of "ex-wife", which carries more social clout? YES.

As I sat and reflected, I realized I had some things to work on: I had to accept that people will have their opinions about me, and more importantly, that I had some things to work on, to get my mind right, to fully deal with. I cannot control the past, nor can I let it control me. One failed relationship does not define me. It is up to me to make sure it does not.

Don't get me wrong: I'm still hurt by some of the comments. I thought they were harsh as hell, and our relationship has changed. Despite that, however, I was glad to have had the catalyst for that conversation I needed to have with myself.

Monday, October 13, 2008

I ain't no size 20!!!!

Except I am. At least according to RK Bridal.

It's hard for me to accept, and it's not right, but I have to accept - I am fat. Now, some will say "nah, are thick". Luckily, I can distract a fool by throwing some (double) D's on him, and I have a Black woman ass, but real talk: I am big. Bigger than I would like to be.
Lemme let you in on a secret - I thought I would lose weight through this breakup shit. It was one of the few things I was actually looking forward to, because women in my family tradionally lose weight when breakups occur.

Imma have to ask my momma if I was adopted, cause this fat on my ass went NOWHERE.

I used to fantasize about seeing my BD, being a slimmer size, having him watch me walk away like he did the (second) first time we met, like Gregory Hines watched Loretta Devine walk away in "Waiting to Exhale". Not so far.

Now, don't get me wrong: I am a bad bitch. At any size. I am a cute woman, and while my look would not work on everyone, I feel good about how I look when I go out.
The problem is, I am ready to feel GREAT. Good is not good enough anymore.
A few years ago, I was fortunate to be chosen for a weight loss study where I got 3 months of free workouts, food, and lost about 25 pounds in 3 months. The first week was torture, and by the end, I was loving the clearheadedness (is that a word?) that came with sweating and working out. The problem? I gained it all back.

It's just getting started that sucks. Moving my ass off the sofa is actually scary. It's funny how you can know something, and still feel powerless to do what I know I need to do.
I have been told "you can't keep doing the same thing and expecting different results", "don't talk about it, be about it", "just do it", and still, where am I? In front of the tv watching the Style Network. Bored, and shocked at my own complacency with something I hate.
Does this mean that I am not ready to be healthier, slimmer? I really don't know what I need to do to get more motivated. Maybe I am depressed and don't know it. Maybe I need to figure out what will motivate me to act.

Like Jessica Care Moore wrote: "I am pregnant with potential, but I birth silence".
RIGHT NOW. Working on yourself takes a lot more energy than I had initially expected. I'm coming to grips with the fact that I'm standing in my own way sometimes. I spent a long time blaming C for my success, or lack thereof, and all of a sudden, you wake up and you look at the mirror, and truly see that you are the captain of your ship, mistress of your destiny, and that realization can be just as scary a proposition as not having any power (or feeling powerless).