Today Was A Good Day

Before I awoke this morning I decided that today would be a good day. I had a slight setback after realizing that the thing that has been ailing me for days is all over the internet. After a brief breakdown, a ton of woe is me moments, and twenty seven minutes of watching Law of Attraction videos on break ups I decided to just avoid Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. Tumblr is safe. Thank God Tumblr is safe.

Someone I follow on Tumblr most be going through a break up. I’ve had to stop myself from reblogging their posts a million times. I don’t want to be that girl. I hate sad Adrien. Honestly sad Adrien must die. Or move to Kivalina. Anyways, The kid and I went house shopping which was actually a pretty good experience even though he is an entitled rich kid from Beverly Hills in his head. He even suggested that he should get the Master Suite at one house before I gave him the child what look.

I fell in love with a home, almost signed a contract to pay way more than I was comfortable with, then I woke up. I refuse to make emotional decisions based on the fact that my heart is broken. I refuse to be that girl.

I realize now more than ever that I am surrounded by the most loving warrior women in the entire world right here in my little corner of Tampa. They have surrounded, supported, and pushed me in all the right directions over the past couple of days. I could not be more grateful. Particularly when it comes to my mom. Her strength often astounds me, #momgoal to be as good as she is to my child when he becomes an adult.

I spent the middle part of my day talking to a friend that I thought I would lose in the break up. It is common knowledge that whenever people split someone gets to keep the friends, especially if they were their friends before the relationship started. I took a chance that I wouldn’t have normally taken and messaged her letting her know that I wanted to remain friends no matter what. She responded in kind and we spent hours talking about life and love. She reminded me that I needed to reclaim the parts of me that I have lost in this relationship and instructed me to write what I want for my life down. To focus on manifesting these things and to focus on the positive. I couldn’t be more happy to add another warrior woman to my repertoire.

I only cried once today. #progress

I don’t hate her for breaking our engagement. I wish it had been done a different way, I wish I had some say in the matter, I wish she’d never called me about having a serious relationship, but I don’t regret my love. I never want to stop loving the way that I do. I never want to stop being me. I want to always be as awesome as I can be.

MOMA Nights

TAMPA MOMA

On the night that your fiancée waltzes in to your bedroom, sits down across from you, and says the dreaded four words “We need to talk.” then after much terrified prodding and the most horrible pregnant pause of your entire life follows that statement up with “I’m not ready to be married.” You will think that you’re going to die. In fact you will carefully consider that option. After all the beer bottle that you’re now drowning your sorrows in could easily be broken and you could use one of the shards to slit your wrists. But this is not really a viable option. You’re an adult woman and this is not your first rodeo. You are after all once divorced and you know that this too shall pass. That the sun will in fact come out tomorrow and unfortunately (or at least it seems) this is not where your story ends.

You won’t sleep well. This could be from the fact that you went to bed at seven pm or it could be from the fact that you’ve just lost a piece of you. It makes sense that when such a huge part of your life, something you’ve looked forward to, and worked so hard for falls apart without much advance notice, that you will be restless. This is when you must make the decision to be ok.

So you get up out of bed at the butt crack of dawn and make the brilliant decision to go for a walk. It’s not very surprising that you walk the three miles to downtown Tampa in a fugue state. You barely even acknowledged the six homeless men who yelled out to you when you made your way past Curtis Hixon Park. Even right outside of your neighborhood when you’d made it to Kennedy and that police officer had pulled you over (is that the term for when you’re walking?)  and asked where you were headed after demanding your identification; even that was surreal. Hell you weren’t even scared though you should have been; Mike Brown isn’t even cold… for that matter neither is Yvette Smith. But you weren’t, you just handed him the ID and waited patiently as he ran your name, came back, passed you the card, and urged you to be safe.

Maybe you knew that you were headed to the place where you thought you had solidified your future. You weren’t surprised when you ended up there. Was it fate that made the lights the same colors that they were when the proposal happened. You know they’ve since changed. That one night you went to the festival they were yellow and red. But the worst night of your life they were the exact same color as they were on the best night of your life. Pink and blue. Like the colors that parents choose to bring their newborn babies home in. Like the colors of Easter eggs. Like the color of your favorite sky.

And was it fate that made that damn Rihanna song come on. As you were sitting there trying to figure out if this thing that you had declared to be art on the best day of your life was actually art on the worst day of your life. As the lights changed from pink to blue and the tears flowed and Rihanna sang about how she wanted him to stay then Taylor Swift burst in saying how she couldn’t make him stay and how players were gonna play play play, was that part fate? I don’t think you ever even figured out if it were art. When you paused the song and looked it up Google defined art as“the various branches of creative activity, such as painting, music, literature, and dance”. Wasn’t this creative? This massive square brick structure with the beautiful lights that changed color from time to time. This thing that housed art. Was it in fact art? Aren’t the lights so pretty though? Even if it’s not art?

I don’t think you figured it out, whether it was art or not because you couldn’t get rid of the feeling that your heart had been simultaneously snatched out of your chest and shoved down your throat at the same time. You thought you had a partnership… That you were working towards creating/ building a life together and now you realized that you’re not. Well, you didn’t realize it as much as you had been informed of it.

Why did you come here? To bring back the memories of how shocked and happy you were when she pulled you to the front of that crowd of dancing people because your song was playing. You were so into trying to mimic the dancers moves and singing how you wanted to dance with somebody who loved you that you missed your entire family sitting all around you. Your dad was actually sitting at a cafe table right next to you when she turned you around and got down on one knee. You didn’t see him there though because you were having fun and you were in love and she, the woman of your dreams was asking you to marry her. And everything was beautiful. After you said yes and danced some more with your friends and family and you’d cried happy tears in this same spot in front of this brilliant piece of art. She’d asked if you wanted to go inside and you’d replied “No.” “Don’t you want to see the art?” she’d asked looking down at that huge diamond that she’d just placed on your hand and you’d turned her around so that she could see the lights on the building and asked “Isn’t this art? Aren’t we art?”

Now you remember why you came. When she was telling you how now just wasn’t the right time, and saying how it wasn’t you it was her, and how her job was going to require her to travel more, and her brother needed her, and how maybe one day the timing would be right, you had made the decision to come here to kiss forever goodbye in the same fashion that you had kissed it hello.

So, On the night your fiancée waltzes in to your bedroom, sits down across from you, and says the dreaded four words “We need to talk.” then after much terrified prodding and the most horrible pregnant pause of your entire life follows that statement up with “I’m not ready to be married.” When the news you are hearing is flowing over you like the suffocating heat of a hot August afternoon there are two things you can do. One, you can totally come undone. You can take out every single pin that you have stuck in you, peel off every piece of tape that you’ve stuck to you, remove every staple, and dissolve every ounce of glue that you have ever used to hold your being together and you can lose it. This is a totally acceptable option. Or Two: you can go to the place where you thought forever was cemented in stone and you can kiss forever goodbye and you could even cry but you could make a vow to not let this destroy you. Either you fall apart, or you stand up, you insert steel into your spinal cord, look over at that big beautiful piece of art and you say “What’s next cause I’m ready?”

Aspirations

When I was five I wanted to be a Ballerina, and a Princess, and I wanted to learn to swim so that I could be an oceanographer and swim with the dolphins.

And when I was ten I wanted to be a fashion model, and a dermatologist so I could fix my brother’s skin, and to be the most beautiful bride ever.

At 17 I only wanted to be able to go with my friends to the movies and not be able to relate to the woman on the screen who had just gotten violated and was no longer whole.

I didn’t wanna be a tragedy.

Now I’m 30  and over the years I took enough ballet classes to be considered a ballerina, had my picture in enough magazines to be considered a model, learned enough about hygiene moisturizing and diet to call myself a dermatologist.

Learned to swim. -Went to sea world.-Swam with dolphins.-Oceanographer.

And I am a Princess.
And
In the very near future when I marry my GIRLfriend in her eyes I WILL be the prettiest bride ever.

I am funny and I am smart and I am loved and I am accomplished but no matter how much I accomplish I will never be WHOLE.

I wasn’t going to share this poem today but every time I see a picture of Bill Cosby circulating I think of all the women who wanted to be an actress, then wanted to act opposite Bill Cosby, and then wanted to not have been violated by Bill Cosby… and I think how fucking awful it must be to have to have gone through something as traumatic as this then to have millions of people chiming in throwing in reasons why this just DID not happen to them. Or stating that if it did it’s only being used now as some sort of conspiracy to bring down an icon.

No, I wasn’t there but I vowed at a very early age to believe the victim because I personally know how many people don’t believe the victim and how that makes you feel. How it feels when the police ask you the same questions over and over again because how could he possibly know what tv show you were watching and why would he leave his naked wife for a child. I remember the times I pondered being dead over having to look at my father in the face knowing that he believed that I was just a fast tailed little girl instead of someone who went to sleep and woke up with a man who was supposed to be on top of his naked adult wife, already on top of and inside of her.

Rapists, molesters, predators, and abusers come in all shapes and sizes. Many of them are married and in high profile positions. They are your teachers, your police officers, your pastors, your dentists, and some of them are even your favorite jello pudding pushers.

Formal Notice

Formal Notice

I’m willing to move my ribs to the side for you.
Pluck open my back and give you pieces of my spine so that you can stand up straighter.
Invite you to have the pick of the draw when choosing my shoulders.

Choose wisely.

I want you to be properly prepared as you carry the weight of the world. You’ve been doing it alone for so long and two heads are better than one.

Three shoulders are better than two.

I would give you my heart but I need it. Couldn’t give you pieces of me so unequivocally without it. But I’ll give you a kidney,
sliver of my liver,
part of my lungs,
I would give you my tongue if only I knew you would use it to just speak up.

Why don’t you ever just speak up?

Why don’t I just speak up?
There’s an old saying advising people to do unto others as you’d have them do to you.

But what if you’ve given others your Milky Way and half of your stars out of the goodness of your heart and they can barely part with a kind word?

What then?

What do I do when I’ve shown you that I’m willing to give you more than half of all of me and I realize that you can’t be bothered to do the same?

What then?
What if I changed.
Gave to the world an exact replica of whatever it is that the world has given to me?

Dear World,

I taught you how to treat me. Accepted your bullshit even though I was allergic to it. Even though I knew it for exactly what it was.
But things have got to change. I can not continue to dry out my oceans to fill your river beds when you wouldn’t offer me a cold drink if it required too much work. Consider this my formal notice that the old ways are done.
And when you start to notice don’t be surprised.

Remember,
you already done been told.

Poetry and Other Such Things

To my Uncle Otis who taught me that broken and repaired things are stronger than the original

I see you
Notice the way you managed to make a way out of nothing
Allowed this country to tear you in two
punch rocket holes in your soul and still manage to avoid being another man standing on the corner begging for dollars with “Help a veteran signs”
Can’t imagine that this was easy
Not easy like raising another’s child
Not easy like trying to steer black boys straight when the world is crooked
Not easy like burying someone you’d put your all in to while expecting them to out live you
Not easy like repeating the cycle
I see you 10487444_261613754027876_7712151747494812132_n
And I wonder if it’s hard for you
Harder than the trauma that exploded your torso
Harder than returning to a country who begged for your representation
While never planning to represent you
I see you like I saw you then
The first time I realized that this country is built on the backs of the souls of those broken and repaired
The first time I realized that the strongest souls are those who were once broken and are now repaired
3/22/14 ADJP