Strides...

In my 45 years, I'm learning to breathe... I'm learning to take life as it comes - in ebbs and flows - hills and valleys... I'm learning to be an adult.. A grown up, I guess. I'm learning to stand still and not fight every battle. I'm learning to let things flow, let some things go...  Let them happen as they may, if you will.. I'm learning to... not run. I'm learning to stand my ground... To walk confidently.. Take long, deliberate strides... To not measure my steps but make sure every step count.... Every breath count... Every word count... Taking the time to make sure I count...
I say all the time, I am Enough.. I tell everybody that.. I tell them to pass it on... Because I believe if everyone realizes that they matter, then the world will become a better, more stable, loving place to live in..  If I love myself and my neighbor loves themselves and their neighbor loves themselves then how can hate survive.. Who can be against us... Who can be against.... love? Love conquers all.. not some or a little bit but all.. Love... my most favorite thing in the world... To be loved and to love... It is a truly awesome feeling...  But #whereheatdoe?  He's around.. He's coming and he's coming for me... like gangbusters... He's going to love me like I have never been loved before and he will WANT to love me.. I won't have to poke him.. prod him... conjole him into loving me... Bitch about him not loving me or asking, "Where do we stand? "Where do I stand?" "What are we doing?" "What's going on with us?"... or feelimg pathetic and unloved, unwanted, and pushed aside... Nah, this cat is gonna love because HE. WILL. LOVE. ME. Even on the days where I feel unloved, unworthy to be love and needing to be coddled... HE WILL LOVE ME.... even when I am bitchy towards him or mean, or evil or even being hateful.. He will understand that this is me... This is who I am.... Moody, melancholy, standoffish, sometimes introverted, sometimes loud, curse a LOT and can go from 0 to Jersey in 2.5 seconds flat... Just sit in the car with me for five minutes and the light turns green and the person in the car ahead of me just sits there... BLAM! BLAM! What are you doing?! I will scream.. Don'tcha see the light, asshole?!?! Or let someone say something to my baby... Maaan, you don't want this problem.... But hey, this is me... A work in progress..... A work in progress who is learning to breathe... Learning to go with the flow.. Learning to take life as it comes.. in ebbs and flows.. hills and valleys.. love and unloved.. yet standing still.. not running... not walking either.. Just taking slow, confident, long, deliberate strides.... to my destiny... my future... my love... my life....

a

Where's the fun?

The fact that I've never seen him or been with him physically, amazes me. ..
I'm amazed that I like him so much..that I want to be with him, sleep with him, wake up to him and be his....how can this be? How could this happen? This was supposed to be "fun".. that's it. . Let's have some fun, kick it, go eat, have more fun and be out.. nowhere did it say, fall.... Fall? You mean, trip and skin your knee, fall, right? Or. .or. ..miss a step and bust ya ass, fall, right? Not fall like have actual feelings for this man? Feelings like, I wonder where he is, what he's doing, did he eat, is he okay, does he need me or anything or I could really see myself with this guy feelings? How could this happen? Not to sound shallow but he is not my type. .. He's not tall enough or big enough.. and by big, I mean weight. I like them 6'3+ weighing 275 to 350lbs ...but he is deliciously chocolate and he has small children.... I'm so done with that, that baby momma drama bullshit.. I like men with grown children... the fuck am I thinking? But he does talk and will speak with me for hours on the phone... something that's very important to me. ..Our first conversation was filled with laughter, smiles and deep thoughts leaving me wanting more. .. I wanted to know more. I wanted him to be in town so I could see him, touch him, KNOW him. ..get to know the him that's in him, ya'mean? He made me rethink my "type"... He's made me rethink a lot of things. ..He's making me rethink this love thing again. .. He's making me want love again. ..He's making me wanna change my whole shit up and get close. ..let him get close. .let him in. .I'm curious to see if he can love me from the inside out...if he can touch my soul. .not just physically but emotionally, mentally? If he would allow himself to be open to this love thing. ..? But, fuck. ...can we at least meet?

Beauty & the Crackhead

I wake up to crazy eyes staring at me. I don't know how long he's been lurking over me but here he stands -- at 6'3, dark skinned, slim build, sweating, ranting about me in his bed. I'm like, here we go... again. These midnigh fights were not unusual. He's screaming "If you ain't fucking, you can't sleep in my bed." I know not to make any sudden moves so I slowly rise and look him dead in his face. My heart is about to jump out of my chest. I'm not in the mood to fight tonight. I get out the bed and go into the bathroom adjacent to the bedroom. He follows me. He's still yelling at me. I calmly sit on the toilet and do my business as he's yelling. "If you ain't fucking, you can't sleep here." "Fine, I say." I get up, flush the toilet, wash my hands methodically as I stare at myself in the mirror.  I look over my shoulder and he's looming in the doorway. Like I said, he's tall but slim. I outweigh him by 50 lbs easy. I'm not a small woman. I stand 5'10 and weigh about 235, so I can hold my own. I brush past him and he grabs my arm. "You hear me, bitch?" I jerk my arm away and keep moving. I start to pack my bag. Actually it's a ghetto bag -- a huge, black garbage bag. (See, I've been here before with this dude. I left him because I couldn't take it but came back. See: glutton in the dictionary. Did you find my picture?) He rips the bag out my hand and gets so close to my face that I can see the spit fly out his mouth and land on mine. I push him out of my face and run to the hall bathroom. I need peace. It's 235 a.m., a week day, and I have to be up at 630. I sit on the toilet and he comes plowing into the bathroom, and gets in my face again. Fuck it. Looks like it's gonna be a fight tonight. I push him away and he pushes me so hard I almost fall into the bathtub. I catch myself and fling myself at him. We push each other back and forth for a minute as he's yellling, "You're going to give me some pussy!" Woord? This nigga is crazy! I ain't giving him shit! I run back into the bedroom to get my bag, my purse and my keys, and he is on my heels. He pushes me and I fly into the dresser where he now has me pinned. His hands tightened around my throat with fire in his eyes - crazy eyes,  wide, feral eyes. He is high as a kite. Venom spewing from his mouth. "Ima kill you, bitch!", he hissed. His hands are tightening, he's squeezing and I'm panicking. I raise my hands and punch him as hard as I can and that sends him flying across the room. He lands on the bed, bounces onto the trash bags that hold all my things, and bounces onto the floor. Oh shit! NOW he's pissed! He's sitting on the floor, screaming, "Okay! Okay! That's it! That's it! I'm going to get you bitch!" Well, I didn't stand there too long. I'm crying. I'm talking to myself wondering how I got here as I pack the rest of my things. As I'm gathering my stuff, he walks up behind me talking to me, almost cooing. "Where you going baby? Don't leave. I'm sorry. I don't want your family to know. Don't leave like this." Oh they're going to know, trust and believe me. They are going to know and they are going to whoop your ass!!!!! I'm thinking this. I didn't say a word. He's hugging me. He's asking me to stay, begging even. It's now a quarter to five and I'm exhausted, so I stay. I get in the bed with all my clothes on and barely sleep. I toss and turn for an hour and a half wondering, "how did I get here" again? Oh yeah, this manic motherfucker asked me, repeatedly, to move in with him, so I did. I moved against my better judgment. I knew, in the back of my mind, it was a bad idea. I knew I should have listened to my gut and my homegirl. She told me to keep my place - at least for a couple months. But I felt if I was going to do this,  I should do it 100%... So I moved. His friends were surprised we were moving in together.  One even tried to warn me on the low but I wasn't paying attention - thought I had a winner. 

We dated a year before I moved in with him. He had drama,  but who doesn't? He said, it would be cleared up and it was.  He had a 4 year old daughter who loved me until I moved in. He also had a coke habit which I didn't know about until I moved in. The first two weeks was love.  We had a nice little routine going. Everything was flowing and then his birthday rolls around. That was the beginning of the end. 

I got off work early because I know he's going out for his pre-birthday celebration and I agreed to watch his daughter. I walk in, and a friend of his is already there. He's getting dressed. I go in the back and speak to him, kiss him and wish him on his way. I didn't know I was in for a tumultuousness night and morning. His daughter and I went to McDonald's for dinner, come home, watch tv, and head to bed about 11ish. I wake up at 3am and could have sworn I seen him in our bedroom standing beside the bed. I walk out into the living room  but he's not there. I call him. He answers sounding drunk but says he's okay and will be home soon. I asked him if he came home and he said no. I brushed my vision off as a dream and go to sleep. I wake up an hour later to a car screeching off. I get up and walk in the living room, he's still not home. I call him, no answer. I leave a voicemail. I sleep some more, waking up a few hours later and he's still not home. By this time it's almost 8 in the morning. I call him. His phone goes straight to voicemail. I get out of bed and make some tea, and try calling again, straight to voicemail. Now, I'm getting worried. I call my sister and she tells me, he's just having a good time. He will be home soon. Soon turns into 5 pm. He has blood all over him. He looks dirty, and has this powdery looking stuff -  like dust from a construction site - all over him, like he rolled in it. He gives me this tall tale about getting robbed and beaten and woke up in an alley. Yet, he doesn't know I've spoken to ALL friends and they alluded that this is normal behavior for him. I spoke to one of his friends and dude was so nonchalant about it, it made me pause. He said, "Oh, he'll turn up. He always does." Another friend stopped by and was surprised he wasn't home yet. He goes on to tell me that my dude came by his crib at 3am and bought some coke from him. COKE?! He looked at me like oops! Yeah, nigga, I didn't know. So when my dude comes in with this tall tale, I was pissed. Really? Robbed and beaten? You think I'm stupid?! We argue back and forth but I leave it alone, and he sleeps the night away.

From that day on, things get crazier. I started discovering little baggies around the apartment. He was staying out later and later, and starting to bring up swinging, or possibly bringing girls home. When we first started dating he introduced me to a chick who I've become cool with. Unbeknownst to me, she was also a coke head. We've became friends and started hanging out. However, she would tell him every move I made, every dude who flirted with me or bought me a drink. Needless to say, that friendship ended.There was one hanger-on who was ALWAYS at the crib. I couldn't stand her. I knew he was fucking her but I couldn't prove it. I even asked her one day. Of course, she denied it. I told her when I find out I was gonna fuck her up. When I left the first time and came back to get some stuff, she left her sweater at the crib. I conveniently threw it in the trash, poured grease on it and had him throw the trash out! There were other girls that came by but she was a constant. We weren't intimate as we once was because I suspected he was cheating. As my suspicions grew, I began snooping. I would go through his pockets and his phone. His pockets held baggies with traces of white powder in them, and condoms. His phone held videos, text messages, and voicemails. He kept videos of him fucking other chicks. He kept text messages between him and other chicks. He kept everything. He was an idiot especially since his phone was on my bill and in my name. What a dummy he was or was that me?

It was me. I was the dummy. I saw for months what this dude was doing and who he was. I found the baggies. I saw the females in and out the crib. I saw my money disappearing. His friend told me to put my purse and keys in the bedroom at night because this clown was taking my car during the night. We broke up Halloween night but I needed to stay so I could save for a place. (See, I should have kept my apartment, but hindsight is 20/20, right?) The final straw? He moved in a 19 year old chick and her baby. Yes, you read that right. He moved a girl in, but by this time I didn't care. He could have had a harem, and I wouldn't have cared. I wasn't screwing him and he couldn't touch me with his dead daddy's dick. I found out through the videos on his phone that he was fucking the 19 year old -- that and she was walking around the crib in her drawls. Duh, Lisha, what was your clue? I decided it was time to leave.

 I had been there less than 6 months, and seen more in those few months than I have seen in a lifetime. I don't regret moving with him. He taught me so much. I can recognize a liar with direct eye contact and a beautiful smile. I know what I don't want in a relationship, who I don't want, and what I won't EVER put up with. Life is full of lessons - either you're the teacher or the student, and in this case, I was the student. I carry the lessons he taught me everywhere I go, and no longer judge a book by its cover. I know I am stronger than I give myself credit, and I will never allow any man to make me feel less than who I know I am. I am a fighter, figuratively and physically. Plus I carry a knife.

My foolish heart

He said, "You won't let me in", as his dick slides in and out of me. I asked, "How much deeper do you want to go," not quite understanding the statement in my sex-filled haze. He smiled that Cheshire cat smile of his - like he has some big secret. He tapped the center of my chest, and said, "There. I want your heart." Although, I'm laying completely naked in his bed, hair wild, eyes dazed, skin dewey, glowy, and drenched in sweat, I refuse to be TOTALLY naked with him. I refuse to let him in -- my heart. I claim to be an open person, but secretly, I'm closed off. I hide the true essence of me, especially when I really like someone. I'm afraid. I'm afraid to be vulnerable. I hide my vulnerability. I hide my true desires. I hide me. If I let him in, would he love me the way I need to be loved? Would he protect me the way I need protecting? Would I have security with him? Shit, could I be my true self with him and he still love me? I will never find out. ...

I will never find out because he is a runner. For those of you who don't know what a runner is, let me explain. A runner is a person who claims to want love and all that it entails, but are indeed scared of love. When they sense love might be near, they bolt -- faster than Usain Bolt running the 100 meter dash -- and you will never hear from them again. Now do you see why I could never let him in? It's easier to give him me than to give him, ME. I can't trust him with my heart.. Shit, I don't know if I can trust ME with my heart. 

Have you heard that song by Jazmine Sullivan, My Foolish Heart? Some of the lyrics go: "My foolish heart will jump into the deepest of the seas, even if it cannot swim. My foolish heart will trust just anyone, it's so naive. Oh Oh Oh. And I'm left to save it again." That's me all day. I meet someone. We have some great conversations, exchange thoughts, ideas, fears, dreams, spend a little time, and boom! I love him. Fuck is wrong with me? I like the idea of being in love. I like the idea of a boyfriend or having a friend in my life on a constant, consistent basis. But do I actually know what it takes to be in love and stay in love? I was in love once, and it broke me down to my core. I don't want to feel that pain again, and I refuse to be that vulnerable again.. Hence, I will never let him in. I will never get the answers to my questions because, even though, I want to be in love again, I refuse to give him all of me. If I do that, I'll be forced to save me and my heart again.

Blue..

Think of me in shades of blue

Lonely, sad and cobalt blue

Vibrant, soft and baby blue

Smiling, laughing and violet blue

Think of me in shades of blue

Purple, navy and feeling new

Alive and breathing

slowly seeing... the realities of you....

Think of me in shades of blue...

Wanting, loving, missing you

Moving swiftly away from you...

Yearning, pining, falling for you...

....in lovely, beautiful shades of blue..

Him...

I deleted my online dating profile... I am tired of men wanting perfection..when in reality, they are far from it. I thought I found love. All signs pointed to him. We connected on so many levels. We laughed at the same jokes. We had fun together. I genuinely liked him. I was starting to fall for him in such a short span of time. We spent a lot of time together. It wasn't always going out or hanging out. Sometimes, we would chill at his place, listening to the radio or cds. Dancing, drinking, laughing.. connecting. Sometimes it wasn't about sex. It was about us connecting. He would tell me his secrets, his fears, his dreams. He would look me directly in my eyes and tell me what he was feeling and it felt genuine. I met him online. When I saw his picture, I knew. I knew he was the one for me. I can't explain it but I just knew. I was excited. I was giddy. I was nervous. I couldn't wait to meet him. I just knew.

When I meet a man, I'm all in, especially if they're all in. I'm open. I'm trusting. I'm faithful. I'm loyal. Especially, if they seem trustworthy, faithful, open and loyal... I need communication. I need to feel connected. I need to know that he's feeling what I'm feeling. I haven't learned that space is more.... I haven't learned to listen to myself when I feel a shift or feel that maybe I should pump my brakes. I felt that... I felt that tug that told me to slow it down...but my flesh was on full steam ahead. I wish there was a magic button to tell me to slow it down. No. I wish I would listen to that magic button that tells me to slow down...but what do you do when you think you've found, the one?  I felt he was "the one". I felt he was my future. I felt it on every level, in every way and I guess, my actions showed that. I wanted to be with him. I wanted to see him. I wanted to know the him in him. I wanted to know everything about him...not just surface shit. I wanted to know what made him tick. Why he did the things he did..? Why he thought the way he did? I wanted to be his best friend... but I felt a shift happen. He started to act differently. Had I listened with my ears and my brain, I would have noticed the shift sooner. I would have paid closer attention. I couldn't though. I was too far in and so was he.

I would catch him staring at me. If I didn't call all day, he would call to check on me. He was accommodating. He was compromising. He made me feel beautiful. When I would leave his place, he would watch my car until I disappeared around the corner. If he left before me, he would always give me the biggest wave and smile when he passed me. Whenever I would go to his place, I would text him that I'm downstairs. He would come down and walk me upstairs with his hand on the small of my back. He would give me the biggest hug and smell my hair. I loved that. That told me he missed me, missed my scent. When we would sit on the couch, a part of him would always be touching a part of me. He would always touch me. Sometimes, subtly and sometimes overtly but he would always touch me. I loved that. That showed me he cared enough to stay connected. When we would lay down, we never stop touching..always connected until we got up in the morning. I loved watching him dress in the morning. I loved that he didn't talk that much in the morning or was much of a morning person becuz neither am I.. I loved that he was a lil clingy without really being clingy. We were comfortable. Maybe a lil too comfortable... Maybe it felt too close for comfort... Maybe that's what scared him off...

I'm focusing over the good stuff becuz I don't want to think about the bad stuff. I don't want to think about the slights or the lack of communication or me feeling like I don't matter becuz when I'm with him, I do matter....at that moment.  I don't want to think about him comparing me to the other women he has dated or to his ex wife. I don't want to think about him being afraid or shutting me out. I don't want to think about him distancing himself from me. I know what God has for me IS for me and I pray God has him for me. 

The heart wants what the heart wants and it wants..........him.

church..

I dated a man who told me that me not going to church was a deal breaker. Let me back up, when I first met this dude, who told me he was a church-going, God-fearing, bible-studying, fasting, Christian man who is looking for a God fearing woman, who he can grow in God with. I paused. I am God-fearing but I am not bible-studying or fasting. However, I've grown up in the church. I know God. I have a relationship with God. I talk to him on a daily basis but I don't go to church. He knows my heart. He knows me and loves me in spite of.

I wondered, while I was dating him and we were doing what "carnal" people do and no mention of church came up, would it really be a deal breaker?  I noticed that I prayed before each meal; he didn't. I noticed that I had to encourage him when he was feeling doubts. And, I had to remind him of his faith but yet, me not going to church was a deal breaker. Actually, I didn't know it was a deal breaker until later. I sent him a text one day and told him, I didn't want to stay out late becuz I wanted to go to early service. He was excited. I had been wanting to go to church but hadn't found a church I felt comfortable in. A lot of churches in Atlanta are huge and about the benjamins. They're not about teaching the word and worshipping God, more like, pushing the dollar and worshipping money. Anyway, I was feeling out of sorts and empty so I decided maybe I need to go back. Maybe I should seek different counsel so I started going to church. The night I told him about my decision to go to church is when I found out he had an issue with me not going. He told me he was proud that I was going. He thought I didn't believe in God for whatever reason. (SN: We had a conversation about me being mad at God for taking my nephew. See, this is where effective communication and listening skills come in) I asked him early on if me not going to church would be a deal breaker and he said, no. I didn't understand if a God-fearing, fasting, bible-studying, church-going,  Christian man would lie about having issues with me not going to church? What's the big deal? You feel how you feel right? 

I started going to church. I went to a non denominational church and I felt odd. I decided I would give it a try becuz, 1: it's close to home. 2: the service is about an hour and fifteen minutes; and, 3: the message was good. However, the music was strange to me. I'm used to a more down home soul choir and here I sit listening to rock band style music. No one is catching the spirit. No one is, in my opinion, feeling it. They're all just standing around, singing softly and swaying...but not really MOVING.. I'm like ooookay. I look around the room and everyone seems to be into it...but me. 'I'm thinking to myself, am I in the Twilight Zone or what? I sometimes stream the service or actually go, but last night as I'm streaming and the pastor is speaking, I feel off. It feels off. THIS feels off.  Now, I'm sitting at home, alone and I feel like this is b.s. This is not where I want to be. I need to be somewhere else, some PLACE else. I don't know if it's the church or me. I need to find out. I started to wonder if I am going to church for other people? Am I going becuz I "should" go or am I going becuz I want to go? The whole time I'm listening or watching, these questions are going thru my head. Why am I here? What is my purpose? What am I learning and do I actually believe what the pastor is saying? I don't. I think this particular church is a lil biased and I need to go someplace that I feel comfortable......but where?