Lamenting Lauryn

Lamenting Lauryn

Sitting here listening to “Miseducation” and every time I hear it… I silently thank her for saving my life.

All the lyrics were exactly what I needed to hear in a time when the life of my self esteem and my wish to continue living were at their very lowest. I was beginning to give up. Nothing was working out. No one was staying. Everyone was out to hurt me emotionally… I was totally alone. Or so I felt.

She dropped so much assurance and knowledge and confidence… even consolation that although it hurt more than I thought I could bear, I would be fine if I held on and learned to love myself above all else. She shared anecdotes on how she went through the SAME thing… looking back at how she’d been so much like me… but came out clean on the other side.

Pending on what I was going through… I’d cry with her. I’d complain with her. I’d heal with her. I’d move on with her. I’d triumph in my success with her. I nodded my head in quiet and final peace with her. She held my hand through that time and here I am… clean… on the other side… Knowing that what I NEEDED at the time – although didn’t seem like what I wanted – was EXACTLY THAT. Had I not had her advice coursing through my thoughts… I would have passed that up for a life of frivolity that only FELT nice. But actually was doing more damage to my soul than I could bear. I smile every time I see his face. It was the best decision EVER.

“My heart is gold … see I took back my soul….
And totally let my Creator control…
The life which was his…. to begin with”

Thank you Lauryn.

I wish those same words could help you…

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According to WikiPedia…

According to WikiPedia…

“In the United states, irreconcilable differences can be one ground, often they are used as justification for a no-fault divorce. Any sort of difference between the two parties that either cannot be changed or the individual does not want to make the change can be considered irreconcilable differences.”

At what point do you give up though – or decide that whatever it is will never or cannot be changed?

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I Couldn’t Stay…

I Couldn’t Stay…

I just woke up in tears. Big heavy hot salty tears. I can’t say I remember the last time I woke up from a dream like that and was unable to cry. I’m sure if I search my blog memories, I’ll find at least one. But it’s been a while. Usually coming out of a crying dream, the tears don’t last very long… because I realize whatever it is that I’m crying either has no basis in fact or isn’t worth crying about beyond the dream.

I was with my mom and we were going to visit daddy. For the first time in the series of dreams I’ve been having about him, the thought didn’t course through my head “why? he’s dead… what’s there to visit?” I happily took my mom to him. But he wasn’t at a morgue or a hospital. He was more in like this… community living situation. Kind of like a hotel, but folks lived there… not just went to stay for a spell. We walked in his room and the sun was bright and he really looked good. Standing there in a pair of rust colored pants and a cream shirt with rust tie. Getting dressed… he was jovial and smiling (with and for us instead of others… which was the Dad that I liked best). And excited to get where we were going. He put on a matching cream blazer with rust and yellow stripe pattern and he stood there. My god… I was so happy to see him. He was so nice to us. Mom was so happy. (I’m trying to keep it together to finish this post… but I’m losing it fast…) While driving him and mommy in a HUGE cream Cadillac – the old school ones from the 60′s movies… Like this:

They were in the back seat, his arm around her and her leaning onto him (which I’d never seen in real life)… I just broke into tears. “This isn’t real… I can’t stay here…” I started repeating to myself over and over… and I woke up and those same tears are running now.

This grief thing really sucks. You never seem to completely be ok… ever.

I do miss you daddy.

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(yes… i just called mom to make sure that she’s still with us…)

Introducing… DEEZ

Introducing DEEZ…

Say hello to my new road dawg, everyone.
I saw her last year on the display floor and thought… It’s so small… looks like it might not pack a whallop. But… The space you get on the inside coupled with the power that courses through her when you hit the gas… It made me think and feel differently. I couldn’t find the right words to express her attitude.

Until they handed me the plates:

Yeah…

That sums it up. It’s my whole attitude when I drive (you almost HAVE to be that way in NY in order to NOT lose your mind).

With that said… I dedicate this to you, Deez (the following is MATURE content… NOT intended for children or the easily offended)…

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Tact

Tact

It amazes me to think that some folks still don’t have it in this day and age… Or mistake their comfort level with you for the ability to say anything to you and have it fly under the radar.

Some things just sound crass while others hold that crassness in delivery. My family has mastered sheer crass words with delivery to boot. And I find myself victim to it regularly. Usually uninvited. I can understand if I said “hey… Do I look fat to you?” or “can you see bags under my eyes ” then FREE REIGN on whatever the response is because I invited it and am braced for whatever response. But out of the blue…. Imagine if I was feeling good about myself. Comfortable in my own skin. And here you come with your tactless unsolicited crappiness. *smh*

Two weeks ago I thought I had it with the make up… The hair was working… I thought I was the shizzz. Here comes my co worker I bump into on the train. “Wow… You look tired.” Instant deflation. The wheels turned in my head to rework my original feeling about myself. But it felt impossible.

My favorite tactless comment delivered to me was by my uncle. If it was the Olympics of Tactlessness he would have gotten a 10 all around for delivery, execution and dismount. Tugging at the mush of flesh on the back of my arm, he speculated, “Your boyfriend must like fat girls.” Just like that. Plain as day as if he were remarking about something that wouldn’t normally get a reaction. “Hey the sidewalks are made of cement…. And I’m thinking that your man must like fat girls…” I swear my mouth hung open and my brain zeroed out. I almost didn’t respond. But then I did. “I’ve seen your wife… You must too.” Not quite as potent but at least I didn’t just sit there.

The latest instance of tactlessness was offered up by my brother. Walking thru the city yesterday we happened upon a sale for Pepperidge Farm cookies. 2 for $5. So… I pick up 2 Mint Milano cookies because they are my fave. And my brother begins the barrage:

1) condescendingly pats my “muffin top”
2) states that “it’s ok… you’re doing the fat and happy married thing”
3) states that he always imagined that this is how I’d look with “a bun in the oven…” now he can see what it’ll look like…

Felt like that scene in LOTR when Boramere took those three arrows to his chest. *thwack*

Getting dresses this morning was sheer hell. I wish I could’ve stayed home.

*sigh*

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