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?”

A Sunday in August

Eight years ago I met the love of my life. We became really good friends because in my head I was already with the love of my life. Throughout the years Ashley and I would remain friends going on occasional dates to catch up in between whoever was our most recent or current love of our life. Last July she called me and wanted to know if I would date her exclusively. I was excited but I didn’t think it would pan out to be much more than a few dates where we would catch up, enjoy each other’s time, and decide that now wasn’t OUR time; again. We would remain great friends and I would complain to my two best friends how I couldn’t find true love because no one would ever compare to Ashley. She was the ruler that everyone needed to measure up to. Honest to a fault, funny, sexy, and so positive. She made me better.

So much for great expectations and all that jazz. In her head this was our time and I would be her wife. I found out that we were in a relationship in my sleep as she told some guy that I was her partner. Excitement of what this time was for us began to set in. I told to myself OK it’s finally happening, I’m in a relationship with Ashley and life is grand. We move in together, we begin to build a life, and I am as happy as a bee on it’s favorite flower. After a while we begin to discuss marriage and I know that a proposal is coming soon. In fact being the control freak that I am, I have decided that the proposal is going to happen when we go to Italy for vacation.

My best friend and I begin to concoct a plan where I’m going to look perfect the entire time; my nails are going to be perfect, my outfits are going to be perfect, and I will never be without lipgloss. (A girl must always be prepared for the marriage proposal by the true love of her life.) I’m planning with my best friend how to be properly prepared for my proposal while Ashley is planning with my best friend how to throw me the perfect surprise proposal/engagement party.

So much for plans and all that jazz. My hair was perfect; before we spent a day at the beach and any natural haired woman who gets her hair straightened will tell you that the day at the beach is the end of straight hair. My nails were ok but they were far from perfect but this was fine by me really, because all that I had planned for Sunday was Brunch with some of the people from her networking group. So after the beach in go the two strand twists. A twist out is perfect for brunch… I should’ve caught on when she kept asking me what I was doing to my hair, what I was wearing, etc, etc… but I didn’t. As a matter of fact I didn’t even catch on when the people started dancing to OUR songs in front of our table. I totally believed her when she said that they did this often.

I’m glad that I didn’t know, that I wasn’t in control and properly prepared, img_2316that my hair wasn’t perfect, and that I totally would’ve worn a different outfit had I been aware. And I’m glad that it happened on a Sunday in August amongst all of my sneaky friends.

 

Photo Credit: Christy Marie Photography

Video Credit: Rokosz Studios