In My Own Head

That’s really where I’ve been for the last few weeks.  There is so much to assimilate in my world that when the time would normally come for me to blurt it all out somewhere I find that more than ever, I’m just quiet about it and it rolls around incessantly in my mind. Partly because I don’t want to give some of the (being fears) any life by speaking them aloud and partly because there isn’t always an available ear to listen that I don’t have to give years of back story to me.  More and more I realize that my mom was that to me.  The call any time, talk about anything, at any time of day or night for any length of time, as many times as was necessary in my life.  The best friend I always wanted.   She would have been down to hang out any where too if she was independently mobile throughout my life – but couldn’t.  But knowing she wanted and would have to was good enough to me. People offer that to you but try to take them up on it.  It’s funny – most people turn their phones off when they go to bed so that desperate 3AM call mostly goes to voicemail.   I always have left my phone on through the night.  Used to be so that I was sure to get Mom’s call at 3AM if it happened.  Or any 3AM phone call ABOUT her.  (Strange when I think about it – THAT call? was one I made – not made to me. *smh*)  But now it’s just to fulfill that promise to those I do say “call me anytime – i really MEAN that…”  but maybe they think I don’t.   I think about if this is the process that happened to my mom to make her a “quiet” person.  She always got on me about being too loud.  Talking too much.  And too constantly.  But I remember having a stable of people to always talk to.  And while I still have really great and true friends – everyone’s wrapped up in their own lives complete with it’s joys and problems.  So life’s experiences and issues are discussed every few months or so over mojitos or martinis and then not again for months later.

It was nice having someone to download to every day.

I find myself holding it all in even more because there’s that constant reminder that your baby can feel your mood.  So I try to always be as genuinely happy around my little one as I can – even if it’s her I’m worrying about.  And I do.  A lot.  As a mother should, I suppose.  But it’s more suppression.  And why not talk to the Mr, you say?  Well… he tries.  Honest.  But he’s a man like all men and sometimes the sound of something besides my voice is more attractive.  And I get it.  Plus lately – there’s been a gap in the comm.  I say something, he hears something else and acts on what he heard – not necessarily what I said.  It’s a little frightening.  I don’t want to get to the point where I have to say “Could you repeat back what I said please?” cause that feels a lot like holding his hand like a little kid.  But there are some things I’ll have to do that with because I can’t risk him executing his interpretation. So to that point if I was to unload, I’d want some constructive feed back.  Not just him nodding his head hearing what’s on TV or him hearing something altogether different.

I’ve been chatting to my co-worker about networking more – for work purposes – but maybe this could be two fold.  Network just to increase the base of people that I know and open up my life to new and different voices.  I think I’ll try to start doing that right away.  Wish I had something to go to tonight along those lines.  Hubs is taking the cherub to his e-board meeting.  No real need to rush home.  It’ll just be empty.

Empty and cluttered with the makings of this move.  UGH.  More to think about.  Going back in.

*

2 Months / The Return

My little one turned 2 months officially this week by date – 9 weeks if we’re counting specifics.  And what an amazing, life changing journey it’s been so far.  I keep having to remind myself how little time it’s been since she came into my life, but I swear that she’s always been here.  There is so much to recount… document… I don’t know where to begin but I’ll do my very best.

Reality -
The most shocking thing to me this whole time is that what they show us on television and what you actually go through being a new mom are so disparate, I understand why mom’s have the baby blues now.  I had them.  And it’s because you think you’re going to pop this little baby out of your belly and she’s going to fall into your arms and stare up into your eyes and love you immediately and unconditionally.  NOT.  TRUE.  Not even close.  Yes – there is the familiarity she/he has because they’ve been stuck in your belly for 9 months and so they only really readily recognize your voice and heartbeat – but that’s where the mush ends.  Bottom line – the little one is on survival mode – so who ever helps her/him to do that? is tops in their book.  They haven’t begun the differentiation on who is their fave or not.  And I acquiesce that this may solely be MY experience but I spent the first month and a half of this baby’s life thinking she plum doesn’t like me.  She would avoid eye contact with me at all costs (when they show you mothers breastfeeding on tv, the babies are always deadlocked into their mother’s eyes); she would cry whenever we tried to provide her basic care – changing diapers, changing clothing, bathing her – she only didn’t cry to eat – from a bottle – she’d cry when I’d give her the breast (and that’s a special kind of “rejection” I was NEVER ready for).  It took a lot of asking experienced moms and reading a lot of articles on babycenter.com to realize that I wasn’t in the minority and that NO, my baby doesn’t hate me (although I did quite revel in the look on her face after she’d cry that conveyed “why did they assign me to THIS family??? What were they thinking? I have to talk to someone about this in the morning… maybe I can still be reassigned…” until she drifted off to sleep exhausted by the thought of our incompetence).  She’s just as traumatized by all of this change as we are and was getting used to it. us. life.   So of course – now as my maternity leave comes to a close, I see glimpses of this wonderment everyone keeps talking about.  The smiling at the sight of me.  The laughing when I smile back.  The cooing when I sing to her.  The gazing deeply into my eyes as if to say “who is this person?  I think I like her…”   It makes me think that the initial was necessary.  She had to break down what our conceptions of care were… that even when she protested – we had to do for her anyway.  She had to strip away these technicolor dreams that had been weaved into our minds since we were kids and teach us to open up to this real, truly unconditional, I-would-give-up-anything-and-everything-for-you love.  When she doesn’t cry now when I change her or bathe her – or just in general when I’m holding her – i feel great.  And I’m out of this world when she smiles or nuzzles with me or when she lets out that contented sigh as she sleeps on my chest.  Would I have appreciated it as much if it came ready to serve when she was born?  Probably not.  But I do worry that if it took this long for her to get to this point – how quickly might she forget me now that I’ll be back in the workplace for the majority of the day and only get to enjoy her fully on the weekends?  I comfort myself with the thought that my mother did it with me with LESS time between her 2 jobs.  But the alternate thought creeps in – maybe I idolized her because she was completely unavailable….  I gotta marinate on that for a while longer.

Momentum -
If nothing else, this has lit a fire under my butt that I can no longer wait for someone to “bring me home” or for anyone to show up on my door step with the opportunity of a life time.  I need to get back into roll-up-my-sleeves mode and bring myself home.  Make me the first millionaire in my family… make sure that my child(ren) want for nothing in this world.  And the only REAL way of doing that is to make sure that I am working for myself in all these hours I put in under the guise of “work”.  It’s great to have a steady job with a regular paycheck and benefits.  Without all of that, there’s no way that this little one would be here today.  I needed insurance to cover ALL that surgery and even to try the IVF (although, God had a different plan on how the conception was going to go down).  So I’m not hating on my job(s) at all.  I just know and have always known that was solidifying someone ELSE’s future.  Not mine and not my family.  So I need to get on my marketing grind.  There is something about me… something about what I can do… or what I can produce (without losing any of my dignity LOL) that SOMEONE is willing to pay for.  Pay handsomely for.  My goal is to find it and exploit it.  SOON.  It may be a complete debunking of what I know to be my “talents” because whatever it is, I’ll have to be so passionate about it that I’d be willing to do it and make NO money if necessary (and sometimes, that won’t be an option).  So some serious exploration needs to begin and come to fruition soon.

Transparency -
I’ve been blogging for a long time now.  I think it’s safe to say that even with my month long (some times year long) stints of not writing on this blog – I started journaling in the 6th grade and I’ve always tried to write down what was happening in my life ever since.  When I become an amazing mogul at whatever it is that I love doing (see previous paragraph) and am a millionairess / billionairess who can afford someone to transcribe my MANY hand written accounts – I will get that done.  Digitally I’ve been blogging since 2000.  That’s 11 years of memories and stories and accounts that I swear if I didn’t write them down, would have been lost to my horrible memory.  This blog has acted as my sounding board… my dumping ground – clearing my head out and getting the images and thoughts out somewhere where I could read and review what I’m thinking… how I feel… see if it makes any real sense.  It just gave me more of an opportunity to explore myself.  Somewhere down the line I started over editing.  I think when I realized that a lot of people were reading what I write (cause I never really expected that)…  I changed what I was writing for the public.  I began to write in a code that as I read back in my own entries – I encrypted so well that I don’t know what I’m talking about.  All that? has to stop.  I need this space to do what it has always done for me – provide clarity.  Document my life experiences.  Keep me honest, sane and lucid.  I’ve been tip toeing around feelings and sensitivities that I just no longer feel the need to do.  I know that the world is now logging all these things in your digital life record and all it takes is googling someone to find out all their sordid details.  I’m not hiding this part of me.  When the progeny looks back (namely my own) they’ll be able to find a real account of their mom having been a real 26 year old having real experiences and growing into whoever she is when they come to know her.  Unlike me who wonders infinitely about who the woman who became my mother was – cause she wasn’t always my mom.  Who did she love before my dad?  What was her relationship like with her parents?  What kinds of relationships did she have with friends and enemies and the nuances therein?  Life stories that might have weighed very heavily for me as life lessons that I missed out on because all I knew was the “perfection” that was my mother.  So.  No more pussyfooting.  Back to being 100% me.  It’s the thing I know how to do best.  I owe it to myself and my family.

It’s GO time…

*

So much…

Man… there is so much going on.  I’m trying to hang on to the edge of the world whilst it spins around.

Of course the motherhood thing takes precedence.  What an abrupt change!  It really is literally overnight that your whole world changes.  And there’s NOTHING in the 9 – 10 months of gestation that prepares you for the rigors of the actual care and maintenance of the little one.  Actually, if you play your cards right the 9 – 10 months is probably the last bits of really restful sleep / “alone” time you’ll get before it all gets started and stabilized.  But it doesn’t matter.  It’s not like you can save up sleep from those days to carry you through the next few weeks / months that it takes to get a “schedule” going.  Thank God for maternity leave.  I was talking to a woman at work who back in the day had no maternity leave and she had her baby on a Tuesday and was back to work the following Monday.  I think my brain would have exploded if I had to do that.  It’s extremely good that you get those weeks to kind of ease into it all – so if the baby kept you up all night – you can manage to sleep it off the next day and not have to worry about deadlines and things needed from the thousand points of light that normally are always asking something of you.  I have about 5 more weeks to go of this “quiet” in the rest of my life.  But this part of my life is so noisy – I’m not sure it makes a difference.

We’re moving.  E’s mom has a rental property on the top floor of her brownstone and it’s twice the space that we currently have which would give the baby a room of her own and afford us a dining room in addition to the rooms we currently have.   Originally the set up was that she would charge us a discounted rate for the next year so that we could bank about 200 – 300 dollars so that the dream / aspiration of getting our own home could be closer in reach.  But after all the renovations, she is charging us so that we’ll only be able to bank 100 bucks.  So basically paying the same thing we pay now for twice the space.  There are several pros and cons to this whole situation.  The biggest con is that we’ll be living above his mother.  I can’t say I’ve ever seen ONE situation where this ends up with the mother and daughter in law being best of friends upon parting.  I thought it could be different with us.  But as the days pass… I see all the things creeping in that are going to make us fast enemies and put E in compromising situations.   Increasingly more comments about my parenting style… her deciding she wants to care for my daughter the way she wants to and not the way I asked her to…  constant referral to the property upstairs as “hers” (I mean… it is… and we know that… but our current landlady doesn’t show up every few times a week just to remind us that we live on HER property).  We asked her if we could paint the walls to which she responded “Yeah, you can – just don’t mess up my floors.”  Okay.  So I tarped the floors really good and we started getting busy – but E got wrapped up in being picasso for the baby’s room.  So i ended up painting a whole room by myself.  On one of my breaks downstairs to check on the baby and get a little air conditioning she asked me if I thought I was “overdoing it”….  No. I don’t.  When we moved into the current apartment we just started getting things into the house we never thought to paint it with all the furniture coming in.  The walls were and have been eggshell and white.  For four years.  I didn’t want to take the chance that should we be there for longer than 1 year that I’d be living in “heaven” again with all the white walls and ceilings.  But I’m taking it as her asking me if perhaps I can see that SHE perceives me to be going overboard with the painting by her standards.  I wonder if she would have asked a tenant off the street the same question.  This is just one example of MANY quick commentaries I’ve been fielding from her in the last few days that we’ve been at the house painting and preparing for the move.  There’s only so much button-lipdedness I can exercise before I say something……

Then there’s the family dynamic.  When you boil it all the way down and take the frills off of it and cut away the fluff?  I’m the only “stranger” moving into that complex when it goes down.  EVERYONE else in that building is family by blood.  Mother, Aunt, Brothers, Cousins.  I’m the only non-blood relation.  Even my daughter is their blood.  And boy – I’m really feeling it.  I understand that my family is really no where to be found because since I committed the cardinal sin of moving to brooklyn after getting married and away from my Queens based family that I no longer deserve their time / attention / travel to be around me and my family.  And there’s only so much reaching out in their direction I can do without any get back from them.  So decidedly, my little girl will know her father’s family better.  I guess it’s always one side more than the other.  Or at least in my experience.  My brother and I definitely knew my mother’s side of the family waaaay better than my dad’s side.  And that was for whatever reasons – they hadn’t traveled up to America – they didn’t really call a lot or make efforts to visit or ask for us to visit… so  Mom’s side DID – to the point where they lived with us for varied spans of time (which was good and bad) but we knew them.  I do truly feel that I’m all alone there.  I’m the only one not raised in THEIR way.  And so if I say something off color or kilter… I’m the one who’ll get the side eye like “who’s this bitch?”  I’ve never felt like more of an island.  I think that I won’t be able to be myself.  Sing loudly.  Have company.  Play my music on a Sunday morning.  Walk heavy – all for the fear of being reprimanded for… well… being myself.  Meanwhile – everyone else will be just fine.

The family dynamic brings another dimension – PRIVACY.  I believe that for the benefit of saving a whole $100 a month and for essentially living above Mommy-Day-Care for the baby, I am giving up every shred of my personal privacy and freedom.  I think that our apartment will be a veritable Grand Central Station for their family to just run up and down as they see fit.  I may never have time for me and my nuclear family alone.   I’m afraid to come out of the bathroom after a shower (bathroom is in the main hallway 2 doors down from what would be our bedroom) and find a family member of his wandering about.  And I think that enough of that? will be enough to destroy us.  We’re fighting as it is to make sure that we work every day – and that’s been in the vacuum of privacy that is our little apartment where it’s just us.   I am scared that moving in under the bright light of his family’s observance may break us.  I don’t want it to.  I just need to put it in writing to get it out of my head.

On top of ALL of that?  I’m having so much trouble bonding with my little one.  There were umpteen roadblocks stopping us from garnering this natural, ethereal connection that was supposed to be present at birth for her and I.  I couldn’t give birth vaginally.  I didn’t get to hold her in my arms for 6 hours.  I didn’t get to properly begin breastfeeding until 10 days later.   No one would believe that real bonafide side eye action that I get from this girl.  And I know it takes time for some folks.  I’m just worried that all this added “outside” interaction will water it down and I’ll ultimately become just a character in the background for her when she retells her life story.  Not that I wanted top billing?  But as this move draws nigh, I feel less like her mom and more like a glorified nanny who only gets occasional use.  Maybe a little more alone, quiet time together and that might change.  All the mothers I know assure me that this is 100% temporary and that I won’t feel this way for long.  All the articles I read told me that I really shouldn’t have taken on this many life changes post-partum.

I suppose it will all come out in the wash sooner or later.

*

Lessons…

Little one?

I’ll just teach you to validate yourself.  And let that be the priority to you always.  No one else’s say so … should say so.

that alone will free you from many of the shackles I’ve already worn.

*

Worthiness / Creating the Pull

A conversation held between me and the hubby the other day:

Him: The baby is going to LOVE you.
Me: You think so??
Him: HECK Yeah!
Me:  *screwface*  I mean… what makes you say that?
Him: Well…  did you love YOUR mom?
Me:  Are you kidding?  LOVE her?  I worshipped her.  She was my idol.  There was no woman prettier, smarter, more amazing or kinder in the world.  She was everything.
Him: *”i told you” so look on his face* – well. There you have it.

The verbal conversation stopped there, but in my mind, I responded – but… all that my mom did… she fully deserved that love and admiration from me, my brother and anyone else who crossed her path.  The selflessness.  The sacrifices.  They were all apparant to me all my life.  What will I have done – outside of the surgeries and procedures to GET me pregnant (which might seem … well… self serving from a given angle) that will match that kind of angel-like behaviour that will merit admiration and love from this little one flipping about inside?

When I was an Amway Distributor, one of the philosophies they taught us was a concept called “Creating the Pull”.  They were grooming us all to be leaders, but what’s leading if you have no followers?  What’s worse – if you have proclaimed “followers” but no one wants to be where YOU, in particular, are.  So the concept of creating a pull – put enough distance between you and your “followers” in the achievement and attainment of dreams that makes it look like you are further ahead and wish they could hang with you but they’ve got x-amt of work to get done before they can achieve your success.  Accomplishing this by sending postcards from beautiful places that you’ve managed to be able to go as a result of your hard work and wishing they could be there… but they haven’t reached the success level required for them to earn that particular trip.  Or cars or clothes or free time… all the things they dangled before you as rewards for your work.  I’d gotten many a post card from tropical places “wishing I was there”.  And it made me want to work harder so that I could participate.  I wanted to belong to THAT group.

In a lot of ways and without any kind of effort on her part, my mom “created a pull”.  She didn’t tell me too much about herself.  She just carried herself with poise, grace, determination, pride and love.  She was all the things a grown woman should be in my mind and in my eyes and without dangling it in front of me… she made me want to be as much like her as I could possibly be.  There were some things about myself that I’d never be able to shrug off that were quintessentially ME – the social butterfly, the commensurate performer, the boy-crazy little girl…  Those were just parts of me that I had to know were uniquely mine and not like her at all.  But everything else?  I wanted to emulate her.  The wit.  The style.  The mystery.  The cool-under-pressure.  Personality wise, she was a female James Bond (to me).  And of course – while I learned more and more about her very human personality and flaws as the years passed, it took a very long time to get me to the point where she wasn’t just about able to walk on water in my opinion.

That same mystery brought certain distance between us though.  While  I was always aware that my mom was never supposed to be my “friend” or my “pal” – I felt she left the earth without me really KNOWING who she was.  There was a whole other woman that existed before the married mother I came to idolize.  There was the single, gorgeous,  adventurous youngster growing up in Haiti who had a penchant for wearing short things and was always thinking about her cousins and family and showed it by visiting and chatting with them often.    The woman who existed before my father married her.  I only get glimpses of her in stories from her counterparts and cousins who are still with us.  Making the myth of my mom even more elusive and glamorous.

I don’t know what this little one is going to think of me.  I might be so busy wanting her to love me as much as I loved my mom that I’d do all the wrong things… say all the wrong things.  She’d just end up being a Daddy’s Girl… and maybe not thinking much of me at all.  I know that I think she’s the bees knees already…  I guess… I just have to be myself and hope that she loves me just as much.

*

36.

I try to post every single year on my birthday. I’ve done pretty good. I’m also human and sometimes it’s up — sometimes it’s down. But I love that I can go back and read how I felt in that moment… know what was happening to me then… and get some perspective on what I’m going through now. How I became this woman that stares in the mirror every morning. 36… feels a touch empty. 35 was supposed to have been the precipice of motherhood…off of which I was going to jump and never look back. However, I find myself at 36 still teetering on said rocky cliff looking at the road down and wondering if it makes sense to hope so much anymore. I know its just the moment. But it feels truly empty. My regular midnight call from Mom to wish me a happy birthday is seriously lacking. I’m in my own head more these days (as referenced by the last post). And I wonder what else there is… besides here… a lot. I’m sure Ill look at this post upon turning 37, juggling children and formula and bassinets and just laugh and shake my head at where i was at mentally.

I hope… that I do.

2000 – I aimlessly spend my days and nights searching for attention. I just want someone to notice me. To the point where if the little cat on my screen for my Office 2000 meows at me… I get happy. She smiles at me and I feel like someones paying attention.

2003- Birthday calls have been coming in since 9:00AM. I really feel loved. My mom looked at me last night with this look of … Wow… my baby is all grown up and it felt really amazing. Thinking about it makes me tear up because the same way she’ll always look at me and see her baby… is the same way I’ll always look at her and see how shes always been my world.

2004 – It is a GLORIOUS FALL DAY, just the way I always love my Birthday to be. I am all tingly this morning. I just feel really good and happy and loved and blessed. Whatever this day brings, I know it will be FABULOUS! I cant wait to see what it yields. And I look forward to tonight. Whatever my baby has planned. He’s wonderful. Called me at midnight to wish me a happy birthday. EVERYTHING I prayed for. GOD does certainly answer prayers. Just in HIS time.

2005 – going on a drinking binge for my 31st – hopefully will come out the other end alive. celebrated my baby’s 31st – tried hard to make it festive. sad that I had to try hard. learning more about myself and how others perceive me every day.

2006 (this one merited a full repost… LOVE what I wrote) -
Dear 32 Yr Old Victoria,
Welcome!! All the previous years have been waiting and preparing for you. We never thought it would all happen in one year, but we know that you’ve always been ambitious so, it’s no real surprise.
This milestone… The making of this 33rd year in your life signifies so much. This is truly a new beginning. A new life awaits you just beyond this date. A new husband. A new home. The very real and welcomed possibility of motherhood. All the things we’ve prepared you for. Many years of schooling and life experience…. Years of mistakes and heartbreaks. Years of successes and disappointments have brought you right here. Right where we had always hoped to be. It’s scary… We know… But luckily, you’ve never let yourself be held prisoner by your fears (‘cept when it comes to bugs).
Year 23 remembers an important lesson – “Growth only happens when you are out of your comfort zone.” And you quickly took to a “get it over with” attitude that propels you forward. Year 13 taught you that not everyone will like or appreciate you and your personality, but as long as you did for your self… That’s all that mattered. Year 27 taught you to assess situations with more than just Passion… But with a modicum of practicality (that’s how you found real, true and lasting love) Year 24 taught you the art of introspection and shed the fear of listening to yourself and what was going on in your heart. Years 6 – 8 taught you to love the Lord, love the sky, love the sun endlessly and until the end of your days. Year 26 gave you the hint of cynicism that took the edge off of your ever present naivete without hardening you completely.
And now you’re ready. Welcome. We’re happy you made it.
Lovingly,
Years 0 – 31.

2007- Happy Birthday to Me! Im dedicating my year to living in the now… in the name of wonderful memories Ill extract from them to take with me when I go. Now is all we have. Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow – we only have a marginal say in what happens. All we can really control is NOW. Happy 33 to me…

2008 – *sigh* so much on my mind… I just cant recline

2009 – THANK YOU LORD, THANK YOU MOM DAD! THANK YOU FAMILY FRIENDS!!
For giving me light. For giving me strength. For giving me hope and teaching me lessons. For guiding my hand and assuring my step. For loving me tough when that needed to happen. For inspiring my heart and enlightening my mind. For showing beauty where I though it was lacking. For soothing me with peace and animating me with joy. For standing by quietly and giving me backing. Forgiving me. For holding me close or walking away. Even the hurts have helped me to grow. This life I live; this “intenseness” I feel; the skip in my step; the glow in my smile….
I feel because every day you allow me to be me and love me deeply… ANYWAY!!!

Here’s to looking back and laughing. On to the next.

*

Solitude

“In my solitude… you haunt me…. ”
– Billie Holiday

This past sunday was a factionista brunch to bid adieu to our sweet Tinsel Top. She’s moving to ATL to start a brand new life for herself there. I get all full when I think about it… about where in life she was when I met her… how EXTREMELY FAR she’s come… I’m just… so proud and so happy for her and so sad that she’ll be so far… But more excited for all that’s waiting for her there.

So as we were sitting there catching up on our lives and tv shows and celebrities and pleasantries, we happened upon the story of how I discovered that I now am allergic to Alka Seltzer – how i seized up from an anaphylactic reaction one night choking on my couch, worried that I’d die all alone (Earl had chapter meeting that night). And Icy says “Well… who are you talking to these days? Because I certainly didn’t know about any of this.” The rest of them nodded in agreement. The conversation moved away from there quickly enough for me not to have to actually provide an answer. But I’ve been asking myself ever since. Used to be that I’d consistently be posting my thoughts here at least. But as I was making the transition in jobs, I didn’t want to divulge too much. So I internalized a lot. For months. And I am trying like hell to break out of not blogging anyways… but in terms of talking to any given human beings on a regular basis… the one person who heard from me every single day whether it was by phone call or visit was mommy. There was never any “bringing her up to speed”. She had the CNN hotwire on my life. Always. And as I look around – I don’t really know who in my life has that, aside from E… and truly, that’s by virtue of the fact that he has to see me every damned day. Poor kid. I always remember wanting someone in my life who got the every day phone call to shoot the shit with for hours, text nonstop through out the day… read each other’s blogs…. share similar philosophies on life and if not we helped each other get there (where ever THERE is – mentally, emotionally, spiritually), first person I think of when I get some free shit to share with… the one that’s always down to hang because we were both home and bored…. down to roaddog on ridiculously long trips… But I think that I fail myself for wanting ONE person that wants to do all of that. I have someone for all of those scenarios. I’m lucky enough to have several individuals that can all step in and individually fill those voids. And I should be and AM happy for that. It just makes for recapping the same stories…. A LOT. LOL! Maybe… in this 140 – 160 character, best friend eliminating society… this isn’t the time or the place to look for or want that or need it. Brief touch ins should be enough. But I feel that my life is lacking in that way.

I’m re-evaluating so much lately. One often meets their destiny on the path they took to avoid it… I looked a how lonely mommy was all the time. How down on her self and situations she stayed and never highlighted the amazing accomplishments she made in life. How ultimately sad she was, no matter what. And I don’t go so radically as to do the opposite of everything she did in order to avoid the consequences… Though…. I find myself being just as quiet as she was lately. When amongst groups… I spend more time listening than talking. I’m becoming increasingly more private with my thoughts and actions (outside of having a blog the whole world can read). I’m internalizing a lot more emotions and sensations. This can’t really be good. I’m not sure what to do.

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Alone in a Crowd

I’m in the Lou. St Louis that is for my sorority’s national convention. So far this trip hasn’t been the best one and I’ve found myself questionning why I broke my neck to be at THIS one. Of course by the time I complete the question in my mind, I remember the reasons I told myself about being at this convention and I suppose it makes sense that I thought those things when I booked my flight.

Getting here was the absolute worst. The hubby and I got a little cocky about how much time it would take to get to the airport. So we woke up, worked out, finished packing and got in the car to get to the airport with about 55 minutes b4 the flight. Well… Thanks to a misguiding sky cap, we ended up waiting on a “trouble ticket” line for 40 min (there goes my flight) and had to spend an additional 110 dollars to secure a seat on the next flight out which was a full 6 hours later. After I threw a mental tantrum, I recomposed myself to the notion that now I’d be able to complete all that I’d run out of time to do: manicure / pedicure; shop for white shoes; get my toiletries etc. All the while spending more time with the hubby

So we began towards the city, feeling resolved and comforted that there was a silver lining to all of this. As we waited our turn to pay the toll at the entrance of the Midtown tunnel, an airport transportation van that was directly in front of us fancied himself wanting to just…. Back up. Fast. And onto the bumper and hood of my car. We honked and yelled and couldn’t understand what the hell he was thinking but there we were – in the midsts of a car accident. Luckily, about 6 police officers at the gate were our witnesses so we’re totally not at fault. But it cost us another hour or so to detain the guy (um, yeah, cause he was going to drive away) and write up the report. We still kept a light heart. We got to the city where I luxuriated in my long overdue mani pedi then went shopping for white shoes and a carryon bag to pack add’l items in. By the tinme we were done, it was 1:30. Next flight was at 6, but we flew out anyways. I didn’t want to take any chances. Got to the airport around 2 and checked in and cooled my heels till the flight which left on time, was uneventful and quiet.

Upon arriving at St. Louis, I got a cab and traveled to my hotel. The cabbie was wonderfully pleasant and reminded me of Daddy. He gushed proudly about his two boys who are graduating – one from high school and one from college. He was from a country right in the area of Darfur and was making his life and living with his family in the Lou.

Got to the hotel and sought out my chapter. They were hanging out and cutting it up as I expected which put me at ease. The next day was the first plenary and I was ready.

Now… The post about Boule and all the happenings won’t take place publicly on my blog. All I can and will say is that based on the events of this conference I can submit with all assurance that 1) I will NEVER, as long as it’s in my power, miss another conference. 2) if I can help it – I’ll always be a voting delegate. 3) the happenings in session were worth every penny of the 1600+ dollars it took to get me there (not including the shopping it took to get me looking the part). No one could have EVER narrated with sufficient detail and emotion all that took place over this past week. Worth. Every. Penny.

Unlike past conferences, the prevailing feeling for me in the beginning was lonliness. I spent a LOT of time on my own. I ate breakfast alone every morning. Lunches were usually the same with the exception of a few instances. I remember conference time being very busy with visits and hang outs and suite parties hosted by me and sights to see and folks to visit. But… This one was so quiet. The only people that shook up the alone feeling for me were Sharon and her total willingness to drop everything and cool out with me upon request and an impromtu visit from Tiff who hung out with me and we chatted for hours, then danced and strolled at some parties and then hung out till the wee hours of the morning talking some more, drinking cocktails and eating bad food. In a big way, any other time I had to spend alone didn’t feel so bad after that. Yet again, leave it to my original team mates and true heart sisters to unexpectedly and even unintentionally save my sense of sisterhood and closeness. Thanks, Tiff and Sharon

Well, I’m on the flight home now and I cannot wait. I miss my hubby and his skin. I miss NY water and how it doesn’t completely irritate me. I miss knowing where I want to go and getting there of my own volition. I miss the ability to identify crazy in my own home town (cause crazy does NOT look the same everywhere). I miss my mommy and her pictures so I can stop thinking that BAM resembles her and agonizing over that. I’ve not been so homesick in so long and I really hope I have a while before feeling this way again.

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