I Love My Life, What About You?

the fact of the matter is we only get one life to live to either do it right, or not. so why not love what you have and make the very best of it? you know how they say there's no use in crying over spilled milk? well, there's no extra time to sulk over what's passed. leave then there and open your present.

and this is I guess life's basic logic at the end of the day, when it's all said and done. a lot of us, spend more time than we ought to wondering what would happen if we had done that differently. it doesn't matter anymore. get over it. let it go. move on. make your next trial run, the successful one.

I spend a lot of time thinking about life and what it has to offer and what's to come and what I want and hope and wish and pray for. There is no time to look back unless it's for reminiscings sake. The past is fun, it's where our futures use to lay. It's where our dreams were first cultivated and given the breath of life. But, the present is a present, so why negate it on what was and what use to be?

life as we know it right now at it's current moment and time may not be what we envisioned it to be. it may not contain the people we thought it would. but it's the life we've been given, so honestly, why not make the absolute best of it? why not give yourself permission to smile at yourself because you've been given the opportunity, the chance, the right to live life better than yesterday? yes, things can get worst. things can as we say in my hometown, shit just got real. it's true. but things can and do get better. life is not stagnant nor is it bad forever.

love your life because it's yours for the length of time you're on this Earth. don't let the past, what use to be, have that much power over you that you're not able to see the beauty, the glory in right now and what's to come.

Artwork

Tickled with Anticipation

I spent some time not long ago looking at engagement rings, wedding gowns, honeymoon spots, and floral arrangements. Trying to put a face to the man I'll spend forever with and the kids we'll make and raise and love. Delving into careers that I would love to wake up to partake in daily. Imagining the home I'll help create. Spent some time attempting to look into the future and tried to figure out life now and how it'll affect life later. Consciously attempting to coordinate steps so that they only positively affect what's to come. Of course, the end result left me empty handed, but, the attempt was made.

I've always said that we get from life what we put into it. And that's the honest to God truth. Should you contribute nothing to this one life of yours, your harvest will return to you ill fruits and parch land. But, should you sow your land with grace and dedication, your harvest then will return to you the best things of this life. But not necessarily in a fashion or span of time that you may see fit.

I can tell you with the straightest face possible, I have no clue what life has in store. I don't know what to expect come next week or six months from now, let alone a year or more from now. Regardless of how much I "plan", life does it's own thing; I'm just a participant in its show, a pawn in its game, a squirrel trying to get a nut - to say the least.


I just want the best out of this life and I hope the same applies to you and those in your immediate circle. But in wanting the best out of this life, we have to make some pretty tough decisions, burn some bridges, tear out some chapters, cry plenty tears, and do some back turning. And we have to do all of this hoping on a wish and a prayer that the end result is a life that when we sit back and reflect, we can confidently and proudly say that we are happy and satisfied with the decisions made.


Though this may sound like some internal battle of good versus evil quipped with the past fighting the future, it's not. It's a woman playing with her own thoughts and hoping, wishing, and praying that her life from here on out is full of nothing but joyous surprises because after all, she is truly tickled with anticipation and can't wait to see what is on its way to her.

Drop of Possibility

with a corner of sweet red wine left in her wine glass on the end table, she sat in a slightly oversized racerback tank, leopard print bra, hot pink lace hipsters, and fuzzy leopard slipper socks. the only thing put together on her was her hair: pulled back and neatly gathered into a glittered gold rectangle hair clip - very Chistmasy.


she sat indian styled on her plush California king bed with feet intertwined like a pretzel and tucked underneath her, all while pounding against the keys of her laptop. thinking aloud through her fingers, she couldn't for the life of her, even years later, figure out what was it about her and about them that made him venture off.


by all means, he had it all; at least all of what the average man she thought desired. she was the refreshing image of what a woman was to look and sound like: well put together even on her bad days in fitted jeans, collegiate tees and hoodies with clean furry boots or designer clogs. she handled business sometimes better than a man without negating the "womanly duties" bestowed upon her when her father's sperm decided she'd be born with a split versus a pole.


she'd given him everything: hot, home cooked meals where she'd slave over hot pots and pans served with ice cold drinks and napkins folded cleanly under his plate - served to him. she never called him into the kitchen to retrieve his meals. she always waltz her smooth brown flesh into whatever room he was in and served him. she washed clothes, sheets, carpets, and backs if need be. she was the listening ear he'd said he never had, the friend he needed and the lover he prayed for. she did it all. and not to mention, she was a whole theatrical act in the bedroom, shower, living room, and kitchen (when not cooking of course). whatever he wanted or needed, he had.


but all wasn't enough. as if more could be sought and found. different, yes. more, absolutely not.


and here she was, years down the line, trying to decipher what was it that made him do that to them, and to her.


she questioned her own thoughts on the fact that such questions were even being posed. it didn't matter, but, it did matter. no one likes or wants or desires to be wronged. even more so, no one wants to be hurt and to live to speak on it and relive the pain when the hurt has been instilled upon them by one who was their lover. their partner. and in some cases, the key to their future - or so they thought.


her love was and still is ingenious. craved and desired by the minions who crossed her path. damn near perfect, yet, she had not been able to wrap her head around the sheer selfishness and stupidity in the decisions that were made on his behalf that affected and tainted her view of love and relationships.  and she knew it was all out of stupidity and self-centeredness, but her being a woman, it made no sense to her. she knew it wasn't her. couldn't have been. especially not when you get the whole shebang. she knew she wasn't the average woman with average wants and needs or even an average attitude or personality.


she just could never wrap her head around any of it. she knew she probably would never be able to come to grips with the situation. and yet, she'd provided chance upon chance being hopeful and convincing herself that there was enough faith to try. she was glad she'd finally left well enough alone as she realized that even glasses half full of hope grow to be half empty. and eventually, the half empty can barely spare a drop of possibility. 


closing her laptop just as she heard his keys jingling in the door, she looked towards the door of their bedroom as he and his deep dark brown eyes met with hers. they smiled as he made his way over to her and placed several sets of soft kisses upon her lips. she realized then that there was a reason for all of the past shenanigans: so she could see what was sitting and waiting in front of her. so she could walk away from what use to be and what could have been. so she could be loved by who wanted to love her all along. the faith she'd given then to one who didn't deserve it, was the same faith she used to walk out on and grab hold of the love she needed all along.

***

Just For Me

There's no part of this life that is guaranteed to us. Not our next breathe, next smile, or next day. And if we're lucky enough to be given tomorrow, or enough hours in today, they ought to chronicle the best of us - and nothing short of it. We spend so much time planning for the days, weeks, months, years - lifetimes - to come, we fail to realize that none of these things are promised. Either that, or we knowingly attempt to fight time hoping to come out on top.


The plans are easy to make. It's putting them into action that sometimes we get stuck. It's the second nature second thoughts that overtake us. It's the wondering what others will think, snicker, or say. It's the issue of giving others whether consciously or not, power over our lives to determine what we will or will not do.


I'm guilty of these things. Daydreaming days away wishing and hoping for something to change. But change is a mind-frame, a way of life. It's not something that just happens, it's created and formed. It's birthed through our actions and raised via our practices. It's homegrown and a reflection of the best, or the worst of us. It's ingrained so deeply into us, that often, we have to dive into ourselves to seek it and bring it's glory to the forefront.


I, am guilty of everything in this. I, deep sea self dive all the time all because I spend so much time and dedicate so much energy attempting to please those who ensure they please themselves. I, cheat myself out of my own happiness that when the time comes, and they have come dozens of times before, I look back, and see no part of me. I don't see the me that I think I'm grooming day-by-day. I don't and haven't seen the me that I envisioned years ago. I see instead, a self that I don't quite recognize.


I've been spending the last few weeks in my mind organizing and prioritizing. I spend more time than a little bit in my head attempting to make peace with myself and the foreseen issues that others may or may not - assumed fears. Spending time giving myself permission to be who I am and permission to live my life as it is: my life. Ensuring not to vilify myself for being who I am and who I am growing into. These, are the steps to power moves; these are the steps to a life that is plentiful and full. These, are the steps to self-empowerment and constant self-improvement. 


These processes of change and alterations are necessary in this life regardless of how often or how much or how hard we fight them. These changes force us to stare at ourselves as we are in the mirror and accept the reflection. Accept the us that everyone else wants to change. Accept our growth and our change. Accept us as we were made. Accept us as we are to become. And accept those who will join along with us in the journey.


Why not make this the best while we're here? Why not allow our lives to be the best reflection of who we are, where we come from, and how we've gotten here? All I know is that for me when it's all said and done, it'll all be worth it. And I pray the same to be the case for you.


***

Growing Into Me without Losing Me

I am a social networking junkie! I'm attached to my Twitter and Facebook nearly 24/7 though I may not be "socially networking" myself. I update statuses because, well, that's just what I do. Oddly enough, these days, more than ever before, I seek a mirror that offers me the chance to see myself in the manner that others see me. What sort of woman do you see when you look at me, speak to me, see my name? When the name Theresa Clark is presented to you as a representation of myself, what comes to mind? I remember years ago, friends and myself would post stats asking "give me one word that describes me", and your friends would comment with descriptions and you would return the favor if they were too participating. Surprisingly, the words then were nice, sweet words: kind, caring, sweet, honest, funny.

But today, I wonder, what would come to mind to those who have known me and those who do know me? Especially since becoming a woman fighting adulthood with the same ferocity she did with childhood growth.

Life grants us chances to see who we've grown into after experiencing life from a first person point of view. Chances like having lunch or dinner with a dear friend and running into someone you'd never expected to see again. Or, on your way to work, and running into a representation of your past, and this running into, isn't exactly how you'd envisioned it in your mind. But it happens.

Yet, life doesn't give us the chance to see in real time how people see us now. It forces us to grow into, with, and because of these transitions and judge ourselves, for ourselves, and by ourselves accordingly. Daunting feat right?

We seek and define ourselves through the things that life makes available to us. We define ourselves thru our fear, our desires, our dreams and the nightmares that ride our backs at night stifling our breathe as it attempts to suck whatever air is left out of our bodies, for fear of what we're to become. We live these lives, for the bulk of these lives staring through a two-way piece of glass that only offers us our reflection. What we see of ourselves at that moment.

It's hard to make alterations when you're not able to see a picture for what it really is; when you're forced to alterate based off of feelings and emotions, off of personal wants and desires.

It didn't take me long to discover that life is about change. And honestly, it's not about much else. We change in life over everything. Life engrains into us early, that at any given moment in our lives, we can change without the requirement of anyone's permission or say-so. Not even our own.


I fight daily to be a better me. To be and grow into the individual, the woman, the creation in the image of my God, I am supposed to be one of these days. And yes, the journey is treacherous and quite tough, but on my good days, the journey is well worth the climb. Yet, I still desire an accurate picture of what I portray and what I give and offer to the world. I seek this out just as much as I may seek personal forgiveness or individual gratitude. I search for it like I sought for faithful love when I wanted and needed it most. Yet, life is not willing to give me the picture of what others see. And I have no clue as to why, only assumptions, gestures, and ideas. All of these though, still do not give the answer to the question I seek: what does the world see when Theresa Antoinette Clark is presented to them? But just as quickly as the question is presented, it is quickly withdrawn because who the world sees and what the world thinks, by far is not as accurate as who it is that resides within ourselves. And that just may be the reason that we're given that two-way mirror that only provides a reflection of who we are at the very moment we decide to stare into that mirror, and figure out who we are then and who we are becoming.


I am not who I am destined to become. I am not the woman I desire to be. I am not leading a life that is in my eyes, admirable. But my growth and resilience, takes the cake in all categories. I grow and am growing. And that, is a feeling, an experience that no two-way self-reflecting mirror can give us, nor one that the world can convey equally as well. We've been put here to change lives and grow. But one of the first lives we're scheduled to change is our own. And how we do so, determines our whole life's worth and outcome as life returns to us only what we have placed into it.




Chrisette Michele
I'm A Star





"I really don't think life is about the I-could-have-beens. Life is only about the I-tried-to-do. I don't mind the failure but I can't imagine that I'd forgive myself if I didn't try." 

Nikki Giovanni

Untitled Freewrite (problem with power & relationships)

Clearly, I, have given you too much power. More power than you could or can even handle. And now, because I’ve relinquished your hands, thoughts, and spirit of that very thing that you had no clue what to do with, and that very thing that you abused, you have no a clue what to do without it – or me. But baby, that’s ok. We were not born in power nor raised in it or taught exactly what it was. But, by the time we realized just what it is or was, our psyches had already been confused and brainwashed us that power meant harm. And because of that warped education that we received, you, took it all overboard. And you, did me worst than a woman carrying buckets on her clothed wrapped head in attempt to feed her starving children. You, took me and my love for granted. You, left us lonely in between flannel sheets and cold cotton comforters. And you, expected me to falter without you. Oh trust me, I’m just fine baby. I was bred to survive. I, was created and reared, raised and taught to make it in this cold, cold world.

Clearly, our love was just as genuine and true as Florida oranges with no insecticides or chocolate covered strawberries hand-dipped and made from scratch and with love. We, and everybody else just knew, we, would be it. That we, would make it. That we, by all intents and purposes, would run this town and just maybe, just maybe this world too. We, were the shit. But, little did they know, our love was rocky and rough, it was petite and stretched thin.

Honey, we lasted for reasons different from each other. To you, we lasted and survived because we were meant to be. Because there was something about you that kept me coming back. That there was something about me that you just couldn’t shake from out of those limbs of yours. But to me, it was out of mere stupidity that I continuously returned; wishful thinking and hoping wishfully that something would click and change. That something would be different this time around. But this time around never came around for me to rejoice in change and accomplishment. Instead, I, waited for you, to make a decision that was never made. And a heart like mine, couldn't bare the anguish, nor the pain any longer.

And before I knew it, I was deep in it and digging foot holes to crawl out and reclaim me, so I could escape you, and what I thought, and hoped, we had. To re-discover me, and the parts of me that had been long relinquished and placed into shadows, forgetting who I was so that we, you, could exist.

But baby, all is well. As I've taken back my power so that I could once again live and breathe again. So that I could wake in the morning and fall asleep under the moon's glow, happily cause I tell you, there's nothing like, awaking somewhere you wish not to be. There's nothing like feeling a knotting in the pit of your stomach that immobilizes your senses and abilities. There is nothing like losing, your power to the one you loved; and fighting to get it back.

re-discovering me

I feel like I'm always "rediscovering me". Like I'm always lost or something goes awry and I'm left clueless and confused. Left to pick up the pieces just to realize that the pieces don't paint the picture I last remember. Not a good look, and an even worst feeling. But life goes on right? 

Of course, it has to.

Life is the one and only thing that allows us to transform ourselves more times than we can keep count. Transformations and changes that exceed the number of fingers that we're born with. Who we are now, will not be who we are in six months, let alone one or 20 years from now. And that, is a tad bit frightening, but equally exciting. 

In the past year, I've been broke without a complete dollar to my name, gotten out of, back in, and back out of a relationship, changed jobs and fields, I've given up my apartment for a new beginning, stopped relaxing hair and exchanged my long flowing tresses for a tight curly puff while seesawing back and forth on whether I should return to relaxed hair. I've been lied to, cheated on, threatened, and have felt angrier at myself than I ever have in this life of mine.

One of the worst feelings in this world, is to know you're lied to, or done wrong, because another didn't feel as though you were worthy of the truth. Or worth the honesty you duly deserve. You're left to morph into Inspector Gadget to seek answers to questions you've verbally asked. And you're left to pick up the pieces of such ill-fated decisions. There aren't enough words I don't believe that can really pinpoint just how I feel, as there are times when I don't have a clue just what I feel.

One day at a time. As simple as this statement sounds and looks, it's probably one of the hardest set of words to put into action. To put into motion and practice. I'm used to constantly moving and making life happen. But how do you get un-used to such a thing? How do you get accustomed to things, life, being different from what you remember?

So as a dedication and promise to myself and my mother, this upcoming 4th of July weekend, I'm going to live life like it should be lived. And as much as I look forward to the most poppin'est weekend I've had in some time, there is a bit of apprehension because it's been so long since I've done something for me or put me first to take care of me. This upcoming weekend, I plan to be a floater and a wearer of many hats, pumps, flip-flops, dresses, capris, tanks, and swimsuits. Living life bar, yacht, restaurant, beach, museum, movie, mall hopping. Living life like it ought to be. All while laying my many loads down for a few days to allow myself to smile and breathe freely and comfortably.

I take now to shed what's left of my old self, so that the new me can emerge and immerse herself into a new life that she's waited oh so patiently for.

The Itch that Don't Need Scratching

There's nothing cuter in this world than holding a baby and watching them coo, giggle, and smile. Nothing sweeter than kissing their petite feet, fingers, and toes, or blowing onto bellies protruding over diapers to hear them laugh hysterically. And even more so, there's nothing like watching them grow into fast-talking toddlers with vocabularies that can now form opinions, wants, and full fledge statements. I remember watching my brother as a toddler, though we're only three years apart, I remember his growth and habits. He's now a well-adjusted, fun loving 21 year old man. Our sister, who's three, seems to have grown up overnight. She knows her colors, ABCs, and 123s. She has to help pick out her clothes and voices her opinion on what "blip-blops" she wants to wear today.


Children, no matter how small or large, how sweet or otherwise, truly are the best things made of this world. They show us who we are as they are our best mirrors. And yet, I've found myself from time-to-time, wanting a child of my own for these very same reasons. Odd right? Shoot, scary too!


 At first I thought it was just me. But then I realized on Twitter timelines, Facebook statuses, and everyday conversations, a lot of women my age, were beginning to feel the itch of wanting a baby. A whole entire child. Some because of the cuteness, some to have someone to love more than we love ourselves and more than the man we've created this child with (in some cases at least). For whatever reason, children sometimes have become an active thought subject for those of us in our mid-twenties.


And again, scary thought.


One of my best friends and I always joke about how miserable and mean I'd be as a pregnant woman. And she tells just as quickly "Yup me and the kids are going to have move in for the first 4 months". We've been besties since we were little girls growing up in the projects and she now is a wonderful wife and even more fabulous mother of three gorgeous little girls. I've watched her in action as the oldest practices her ballet, the middle baby is screaming for more  dry cereal, and the baby is cooing and laughing on her hip. She quiets them all without raising her voice or showing an ounce of frustration. I tell her all the time, you're the type of mother I want to be with patience of steel.


I don't know where this itch comes from. But I know how to rid it and do so quickly. Remember that three year little girl I mentioned in the beginning? Her. My brother and I call her the perfect example of birth control. She can be the sweetest child on Earth when she wants to be. But more times than not, it's a screamfest at our mother's as she's constant, non-stop noise. Full of screams and laughter, you're more likely to trip over a dolls head and bang your knee against one of her three bikes - whichever one she chooses to cruise through the house on because "Sasha tryna get me". Sasha's the cat by the way. This child who I love soooo dearly, is the antihistamine that hasn't been tapped into for the "baby itch".


See, babies grow up and babies eventually talk and grow in themselves. And at 24, I seriously, just cannot imagine chasing after a toddler who's nonstop, all day. I tip my hat and offer many accolades to those who are doing the things I can't picture right now. It's not about selfishness, or me being full of myself. There are things in life that we know whether we're ready for or not. And when it comes to children, regardless of how great I am with them, they're the one thing I'd probably gag and cry at the news of "Ms. Clark, you're pregnant" right now.


So 'til the time is right and all of my stars and moons have aligned for the children who will eventually come from me to be bought into this world, I'll take my daily dose of the three year old who wears my shoes, dabs into my nail polish, and attaches herself to me more than I can keep count.


Kids are cute. But I'll stick with the kid who isn't mine and the cat I wake up to daily.

Regina Belle

If I Could

Zora & the Lesson of Time

"Bitterness is the coward's revenge on the world for having been hurt."

— Zora Neale Hurston

I know that this linguistically, aesthetically, socially, culturally and morally is incorrect: but, I fucks with Zora Neale Hurston. And that is the most sincere, to-the-point way that I can describe just how much I not only admire but do respect her and her work; everything she stood for and stood against. The time she came of age in, is vastly different from that of my own, but our stories, the words we choose to use - or the words that choose to use us, remind me of who I would have been if I too came of age in her lifetime. And though my choice of words may not garner the most or best respect that she is justly due - to say I admire, adore, respect, look up to this woman and her literary work, would undermine just how much I really do admire, adore, respect, and look up to this woman. So to say I fucks with Zora Neale Hurston, linguistically, is  a terminology that I'm sure will pull in and grasp a 14 year old city girl who's preparing to walk into high school having not a clue what life has in store for her. And maybe, she'll read this and want to too fucks with Zora Neale Hurston.

Make no question nor qualms, this is not about  ones or my vocabulary in the least bit, but about the simplest and most human way to get a point across. And sometimes, to get that point across is to approach a situation, person, or idea, differently than most individuals would, or previously have. Just like in courting and in love, we nab hearts because our approach was different, or our kiss was sweeter and more sensual, passionate than our predecessor.

I fell upon Zora Neale Hurston as a  sophomore, maybe a junior in high school.   Her legendary book There Eyes Were Watching God, I found in a classroom, flipped the green book on its face, read the back, and had to have it. It wasn't stealing either because when you steal something, usually, you really don't need it. I needed this book.  And sure enough, I read it in I want to say two days, and since, if you will, I've been obsessed with learning about this woman in particular and that time period. She came of age around the time of the Harlem Renaissance, which I had already been deftly obsessed with since I learned who Langston Hughes was as a little girl being snatched up and held onto by the world of poetry and words. I had always been amazed since a child that this movement was successful because of  folk who looked just like me. But when my eyes crossed paths with Ms. Hurston and her fiery swagger that was unmatched for her time, I realized a few things - one in particular being the type of woman I was then growing into.

As I would grow older and experience more in life, I would seek her words by way of quotes because even in simple words and phrases, her sass is always evidently apparent. And its her sass I've tried to take pieces of over the years.

Aside from the obvious timing of life's hardships and time itself, her words in a large sense have taught me that time is not to be transcended, but to be marveled in. Not escaped, but only to be anticipated and pray that it be on our side. It's the years we've succeeded

 that come along with it leave their marks on our faces and bodies - lets it be known with a quick glimpse how sincere or harsh our years have been. Whether thru wrinkles, scars, or dimly shimmering eyes, those around us get a quick picture of what sorts of lives we've led just with a quick glimpse.

At the end of every spring and entrance of every summer, I pray for summer to be gentle to me. I ask for it to allow me to live a life I've never lived before, but one that is understanding and conducive to me and those that share my space. I pray for it to be joyful and glad, for it to be full of proud memories and collective photos to tell the stories without me ever having to purse lips to began to tell what that summer was all about. 

One thing I've learned, is that time and life doesn't keep in your life what or who doesn't belong; who doesn't add to us beneficially.  And regardless of how much we disagree with such an idea or thought, the best is done for us for be better. And often, it's done before we understand the magnitude of the situation. Whether its a friendship, relationship, residence or career move - everything in life has a motive and we're simply accomplices.

Life lets us be cocky. It warrants us to challenge ideas of what is and what isn't acceptable. It allows us to change ourselves and who we think we are time after time; to be more than one person in the lifetime we spend here. And if we're lucky enough, we cross paths with those who teach us and show us who we don't want to be: the horrid step-parents, the creepy teacher with a mole on her face, the boyfriend from hell, or the self-centered "friend". And if we're really lucky, we learn about people like Zora Neale Hurston, who teach us that there's nothing in this life that's off limits to us - and it's our responsibility to seize every moment and opportunity that we want and thus deserve.  

It's taken me a long time to learn a lot of lessons; some lessons have taken more trials  than they really should have, but the lesson was learned. Some, have drained me of nearly every piece of probable or possible energy I had in me, but yet I mustered the strength to keep going, and eventually relinquish all rights and responsibilities.

"Sometimes, I feel discriminated against, but it does not make me angry. It merely astonishes me. How can any deny themselves the pleasure of my company? It's beyond me."

Zora Neale Hurston, 1891-1960

____________________________

Beyoncé

BEST THING I NEVER HAD

Better & More

"Being at a place where you no longer care is never a good place to be, but, it's often the best place because that's where we put ourselves first."

These words I posted on Twitter when it finally hit me that the situation I'd once again found myself in, I was in, but no longer cared about it or anything but me. And I was and am ok with such feelings. It doesn't bother me.


I always talk about self-worth, self-love, and how we, especially us women, deserve better, more - the best. But we also know that to get such things, a demand is created. Just like closed mouths don't get fed, a heart's desire is never satisfied if we don't pursue its wants and sometimes, its needs.


The steps to a better life, to the lives we want for ourselves always began with us. Point blank. There's no other place, no better place than there to began.


For four years, we tried endlessly to make us work. Call it forcing, contrived, or imaginary, we fought in our own ways, for our own reasons or motives, to make that thing work. One may have felt or thought they did more, experienced more or less pain, gave more of themselves for something that they wished and prayed for some sort of positive return. But oftentimes, God doesn't give us what we want or what we think we should have because it's not meant for us to have. This is a realization that never quite hit me until I decided I was finally done. After countless attempts to work, I caved, and gave into myself. Decided that I was and am too good of a woman to allow someone to use me as target practice. To brandish my heart with actions that left it heaving for air on those nights when the "I'm sorry" and "It was a mistake" weren't enough. Granted, I know he would beg to differ - these are my thoughts and feelings. I'd reached a point when thinking and whispering to myself that I deserve better and more, needed to be known all across the board. Subtle voice undertones and text rants about what I thought I deserved, no longer worked; I knew I deserved better and more, and was going to go to whatever lengths necessary to make sure I received them. And it didn't matter how anyone perceived it - as long as it was known.


Because of then and those moments that I spent alone with myself and with my heart and its contents spilled out ahead of me, I've found myself beginning again.  And as difficult of a decision this has been, I realize it's the best one for me. A chapter has been closed in my life, for new ones to have the opportunity to begin and the option to end. And I welcome them and their many facets with open arms. I welcome my life's forthcoming chapters with an endearing, understanding type of love that only I can comprehend. No amount of love or life songs can adequately describe just how I feel or what exactly lies in my heart. But I know I deserve better and more. And I commend myself on giving me to opportunity to live and the option to experience myself, by myself, and alone in my own skin.

Jill Scott, Hear My Call

I know I've posted this video on a past blog piece, but this is poignant and important :)

Works in Progress

She came in, initially cheerful and jolly, her usual buoyant self. But as soon as she sat her food on the counter, slid her feet from her boots, and dropped her bag onto the floor, it were as if she was dropping a load she’d been carrying for too long. At the thump of her bag, the tears fell and her spirit seemingly began to speak for her. In control? Not this time.

From her lips came the explanations, experiences, and words that I’d been too fearful to share myself. All there was to do was to nod in agreement. This wasn’t one of those moments that demanded that I hold her and allow her tears to soak my shoulder and her cries to be muffled by chiffon shirts and pearl necklaces. No, it wasn’t one of those moments. This was a grown up moment: let her tears fall and her breasts catch them and let her be frustrated. Let her realize she’s worthy of more and of better things, better experiences and better moments. But in order to get better we have to suffer a bit. Learn, a bit. Be upset and scared, a bit. To be frustrated and angry, lost and dazed, a bit. To wonder and question self worth when self worth has been shattered to bits and pieces like broken glass on concrete floors. Yet, life begs of us, challenges us, to pick up the pieces and create a new canvas. It was one of those moments. It was a time to let her be her. To let her see who she’s grown and evolved into. Let the little girl, naïve and boisterous, clueless and inexperienced, be laid to rest.

I stopped me so he could be. So that he could find his niche in the world as it exists. So I cradled his dreams in my bosom like an expecting mother cradles her belly to let her creation knew she is here, to protect its existence. To ensure that it’s grand entrance is loud and clear, safe and protected, nurtured and loved unconditionally.

This here is the solo that most women have sang at some point in their lives. And we, now full and grown women, now realize how much had been postponed so that we too could sing this song.

It’s a surprise that I still have my sanity. Life took left turns when it should have yielded to oncoming traffic, forthcoming problems, and preconceived notions. Yet, I stayed. And so did she. We felt that the cause was worthy of an ongoing fight. But what to do when the battle is not worth guns then roses, not worth tears then sweat dripping and pore opening make-up sex therapy? What to do then? What to do when he breathing makes your skin crawl and your eyes flutter in frustration, when to hear his keys jingle at the door and you instantly become a full blown pragmatist, expecting the worst when you know you deserve the best? What is a woman to do then?

We stayed. But because we stayed and fought and battled out relationships that had ended months and sometimes years before we’d caught up to the heart of the matter, when the end finally drew near, we shielded our hearts, our eyes, our very existence, yet, we still didn’t know what was coming to us.

So now, we face each day, as works in progress.

We wake each morning feeling better than its predecessor. We allow our laughter to travel from the pit of our bellies to the nape of our necks so that the world may hear us, so that our presence here is known and forever etched into what used to be. We fight now and we fight daily and constantly and notwithstanding help, to decide what is best for us; trying our damnest to figure out the matters of our hearts and not that of others.

We once again are blank canvases waiting to be splurged on, to have tales written onto and into us so that the draft may be torn to shreds and required to begin anew. We go into each day, alone and bare, naked and new, ready and waiting and wanting new experiences. New ideas and thoughts that allow us to say “I have” instead of wanting, dreaming, or thinking of things we want to do. We do now – for us and therefore, for our futures, for what’s to become, for what is to be excluded so that better may be included. 

The journey for sure has not been the most adventurous; nor has it been the best, what we wished and anticipated. But it’s been a journey that has warranted us to give thanks and to mature, to understand and comprehend, to work beyond and towards – to be grateful for who and what we have become. And for these adventures, we understand that with each day we are given another chance to live and to do better, to become women we weren’t the previous day, the more we understand we are nothing more than works in progress. Anxious and awaiting canvases, drafts – waiting for new experiences to rip us open so that life may sew us up again and place it all on repeat.

Nothing New

My story I’d like to think is unique and different. Philadelphia born and raised. Thus, an all around city girl. I pamper myself every two weeks with a visit to the nail salon. I love poetry and music, love and life, laughter and absolute quiet. I sleep in total darkness and work endlessly. I’ve had one long-termed relationship in my 23 years. And many heartbreaks. I’m a cry baby. A Pisces at heart. An artist. I love the way words slip and drip and drop from my tongue and lips to settle on your earlobes. But all-in-all, I am a woman who basks in her femininity.

When I say I, I speak and write and live a life that is not just my own. I tell not just a story that only belongs to me. I see people, places, and things, not limited to only my sight, or my own existence, or from my perspective or stance or opinion. Some years ago, my grandmother shared an adage with me, explaining that “There’s nothing new under the sun honey”. These words have stuck and they stick; they live and they breathe; they exist and co-exist in a world, in societies, and in communities, in the bodies and hearts, the spirits and souls of those who believe and understand the simplicity of existence.

So when I speak of me, I too, speak of you – of us. Of women who are taught and reared early, to be a lady at all times: cross your legs, iron your clothes, clean the crust out of your eyes, and brush that scalp of yours. At all times, present an individual who cares about her individual.

But when and how do we learn, and from whom or what teaches us to be women? Beyond morale and responsibility, beyond the idea and practice, when do we learn that now is the time to put the theory of womanhood into practice?

I identify myself as a full fledge woman. I pay my rent, my bills, clean my home, go grocery shopping, cook meals, counsel family and friends if need be. I respect my elders even though I myself am an adult. I put the existence and life of others oftentimes in front of my own so that their existence never wavers. I push forward, even when what use to be continues to beckon me to visit. But this is nothing new and this life I live does not only belong to me. These chores are not just Theresa’s. They belong to Barbara, NaTasha, Tina, Jalissa, Michelle, Erin too. As easy as it is and would be to say my experiences as a woman are mine alone, and vice versa, the fact of the matter is that this is not entirely true. There are emotions and feelings, moments and times, when what we go thru, at some point in our lives, the sentiments that run thru our veins rapidly, the way we respond to what happens in life, are all the same. Ever sat up late, sad for no reason? Or shared an Ah-Ha moment with your best friend? How about those butterflies because he kissed you the right way, at the right time, and made you feel like it were only the two of you in the world? Or that day, your heart broke after you know you fought endlessly for nothing short of survival? This is why these experiences and feelings, our gender and genetic make-up, makes us so distinctively different from our male counterparts.

But womanhood is far more complex than what the outer layers portray. What about the those nights when I shower in lavender, lotion in peony, slip into silk, dim lights, and sit atop of cotton, alone? To think. And ponder. And wonder about life and where I stand in the midst of it all. What about the anticipations that fall short or the unyielding doors that open in succession, unexpectedly? What about those bad days when every emotion takes over my body, floods my face, and pours rapidly through my eyes? What about those days, nights, weekends, weeks, months, and sometimes years, when I’ve exhausted myself? When I need a break, but can’t catch one? Or that day, when I’ve realized I’ve had enough, and now is the time to let go?

This life ladies, (and gentleman), I tell you, is not new. Its occurrences, its tragedies and triumphs, are not new. Someone else and others have done this too. They too have cried alone when a lover walked away or when one just wouldn’t leave so she, so I, so you, could grow and appreciate their and our existence. They too have had to draw strength from their surroundings and from their individual selves, and that of others. They too have spent long days hustling and bustling to make ends meet or to satisfy their own self indulgences. They’ve sacrificed and struggled too. But the responsibility had to be passed on to us. And as overwhelming as this task appears to be, it leaves us standing, still, wherever we may be - whether in our Philadelphia high-rise condominium, New York loft, Miami beach, Baltimore public school, Las Vegas nightclub, to ask the question: “but how do we do what they’ve done and make it still look so easy?”

I don’t know if there’s an answer. There’s surely no guide or handbook or instructions on “How to Make Your Womanhood EASY…in 10 steps!” This, I guess, is a day-to-day thing. A take life by the horns and run with it, type of thing.

So, with no manual or instructions, no one to explain to us thoroughly, how to, what and whom for are we doing this, when and where do we start being women, the end question is why? Why is our womanhood and being women and ladies and mothers and daughters and sisters, friends, confidants, partners, lovers, who are women, so important that it needs to be maintained, successfully, from generation to generation? The easy answer is that the world vehemently, depends on us. For strength and love, compassion and understanding, for our ability to look at both ends of the spectrum – whether one end begins in Russia and the other ends in Hawaii. We are able to carry the weight of the world on our shoulders, along with a baby strapped to our breasts AND carry groceries, quietly. We are the struggle and its behind the scenes producer; no revolution or movement was or could have been done without us somewhere near, whispering softly to our men, baby, you got this!

The torch we now carry will too be past on to our daughters and nieces and granddaughters, and while we won’t have a manual or guide to give them, we at least can show them a life full of feminine and womanly experiences to be proud of. Pass to them habits worth carrying and nurturing for a lifetime. Instill into them the things we wanted the women of our lives to pass on to us.

This life as a woman is fragile. She’s gentle and to many of us, she’s new. And she deserves to be taken care of because while we won’t be here in the physical forever, she will. So when you bathe tonight, appreciate your gender. The next time you look into the mirror, smile at yourself – because being a woman is more than enough to be appreciative for. Don’t be afraid to nurture and love yourself from time to time – or all the time.

So while this life is not new, nor is the idea of womanhood and being a woman, what we make of it and what we do to it is all new and different and exciting and to be enjoyed. Our task is tough and our order is tall, but it’ll be done, because it’s not just me, and it’s not just you. So whether you’re in jeans and flip flops, a business suit and stilettos, a ball gown and glass slippers, or your pajamas, this life, this experience and the experiences that are headed our way, do not belong to only one person.

So, on your mark, get set, go!

Letter to a 2 Year Old Me

Little Girl, Little Brown Girl-

What to say to you, I have not a clue as I'm still figuring this thing called life out myself. What are the facts of life and how will they benefit or hinder you? Wish I could tell you. But, your life will be one that when you look back on it, you'll be satisfied with the strides you've made.

There's much for you to discover and anticipate in this life. The journey though, is and will be rough and rugged; it's parched and dry. But you will learn that nothing is given to anyone who doesn't want to earn it. Who doesn't want to work hard and effortlessly. Not to spill the beans, but you'll grow into a hard-working woman who's tone and demeanor is endearing and passionate. People will gravitate to you because your smile is soft and gentle, it glides across your face with ease, and comforts the troubled spirits of many.

You've been born into a situation that you have no control over, but you, being the little girl you are, and the woman you'll  grow into will make the best and better of it. You will use it not as a crutch, but as a stepping stone. Your current situation, are the bootstraps that you'll pull up tightly and hold onto as a woman.

You're mother, to many right now, is a little girl herself. But to you, she's the world. And she'll always be that to you. Like the relationships of most mothers and their daughters, the two of you will go through rough patches, but only because a mother's love has no limits and because a child has to figure out who they are. Your love for her, limitless. You'll inherit many of her traits and take on her personality. Her laugh will become your own. Her sarcasm, willingness to lend a hand to those in need, and "pull no punches" attitude, will all wrap themselves around you to become yours.

Your favorite color will be purple. Your truest and best friends will be girls named Ashley, Brittany, and Deahna. It's from these women you'll learn the meaning of friendship. With them, you'll go through life knowing you're not going through it alone. The four of you together, will learn to love and nurture what it means to be women.

You're an artist. A writer to be more specific. You're a Pisces too, so the arts is something that's ingrained in your identity.  This, will be one of your greatest accomplishments. This, is the outlet that you carve and make for yourself. It is the place you go to in order to escape. It is a trait, a practice that will allow for you to understand the complexities of life.

I don't have all of the answers for you. I can't tell you what things you should and shouldn't do, but, do what makes you happy. I know this is I'm sure years too late, but it's best to do what makes your heart content - I've watched you spend years trying, attempting to make others happy before taking yourself into consideration first. But, that's life: it's about nothing else but learning how to make it and yourself better.

I speak to you candidly now because I've been where you're going. But there are places that we'll visit and things we'll experience together.  Life you will learn, is full of roller coasters and when they come, my best advice to you is to buckle down and face them head on with eyes wide open because there's nothing in life that you ever want to say you've missed out on. Have fun, because you only have one time to do this. Life is no dress rehearsal, no do-overs, or repeats.

I feel like this is nothing but a collection of cliches and quotes from famous and unfamous people. But it's not. It's all original. And new. This, is for you and for all of the little girls who will come after you. This is to tell you that though you'll worry yourself crazy because life is going to stress you, there's nothing to stress about. As you get older, you'll garner a relationship with God and strengthen your faith that will allow for you to weather any storm. You'll learn and come to understand the power of prayer. The importance in patience. You'll learn that it is OK to put yourself first.

I apologize to you now for putting others before you. And for holding grudges that weren't worth holding onto. I apologize for learning what it means to forgive later than I probably should. I tell you these things now because things may have turn out differently for you, for me, had you been given these facts of life earlier. But you'll learn that life is about learning. Every waking moment is a chance to learn more and be better.

I'll tell you though, there's a little girl you'll meet in about 20 years who will teach you just how beautiful life is. And she, is the inspiration for this. She is the little girl who's made it easier for me to not only to look back to then, but to look forward to and anticipate what's to come.

Live your life because God gave it to you for a reason.

Love always,
You.

Pursuit of Happiness

happiness: [hap-ee-nis]
–noun
1. the quality or state of being happy.
2. good fortune; pleasure; contentment; joy.

The Declaration of Independence (1776) states and makes it clear "...that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness."

I by far am not a history buff. But the "founding fathers" made it clear as day, that to be happy, to be content and satisfied with our lives, we have to seek it. We have to chase, find and discover, and eventually, grasp what happiness is to us (or what we think it is), and hold onto it for dear life. It, like love, has to be sought and found; has to fit us snug and perfect.

Happiness, is a lifelong effort full of trial and error. Happiness, much like love, is one of the few words in the human language that can be and is an emotion and an action, that has a lifelong impact on our lives - whether good or bad.

I have the right to live. The right to liberty, to be independent, to be my own self as she exists. But, I have to fight for my happiness? Fight for the happiness of my unborn children? Fight for a future that I have no clue what it holds?

As a child, my mother fought for me not to be labeled or ostrasized as the "Learning Disabled" student simply because I couldn't enunciate words clearly, because I stuttered worst than a scratched CD skips in the stereo, and the "regular" first grade teacher and principal didn't have the patience necessary to educate me on my level - the way I learned at that time. My pursuit of happiness then was pursued and sought by my endearing mother whose fervent energy I've gladly inheirited. Because she sought and chased after my happiness then for now and later, none of the above apply to me any longer. I've daydreamed a countless number of times about what if any of the women who labeled and limited my possibilties had the oppurtunity or the chance to see me now, what would they think? How would they react? Or feel, knowing that the little girl they said couldn't, did?

Happiness, is not all about self-indulgence or self-satisfaction. It's not entirely about that blush pink on your nails and toes that makes you smile, or the series of sweet kisses he left on your lips before leaving home. It, at times is about achievement and taking that extra step so that somewhere down the line, what's to come is far better than now because of that extra step. This, my mother taught me at ages when no one understood a word coming out of my mouth but her. These things she taught me when she made it known to put a pretty cover page on my monthly book reports though it wasn't required. Extra steps make a difference later.

The pursuit of happiness is nothing but a culmination of a series of steps that have been previously taken and the big picture isn't seen until later. The pursuit of happiness is arduous and hard. It's sad and sometimes depressing. It, causes us to often question life like a journalist approaches a lead story: who? what? when? where? how? and most importantly, why?

It's made clear in the history books we study as children and later as adults. It's printed in the fancy ink of The Declaration of Independence the clear explaination that no one is responsible for our happiness, whatever it is or meant to be, but us. When we're in love, we like to think that our partner is responsible for making and keeping us happy. But what if they croak today or tomorrow? What if 6 months from now that love no longer exists? What if, that person doesn't know how to make us happy? Then what? Who then is responsible and is to be held accountable for making us smile? For making us appreciate and recognize the beauty in the ugliness of life's struggle?

The pursuit of happiness explains itself in a simple phrase and a few syllables. It makes itself clear that the action is to be sought. Chased. Found. Held onto. For dear life. It makes itself clear that the journey is our responsibility and no one elses. It makes itself clear that this journey will be nothing but a collection, a series of actions that should result in us knowing what satisfies and makes us happy. Children know and recognize happiness. It's, what makes them smile and giggle, chuckle and run carelessly through dirt and grass, in and out of doorways, and chase after what to adults is nothingness. Children are able to play with each other and alone, and be satisfied. They, know happiness because they know not the difficulties of this complex world to which they themselves dwell. Children at young ages know what makes them happy. Whether it's the bald-headed doll with no clothes on or their singing, dancing, joking, Elmo, or even, their favorite blanket that makes them secure and safe. They know what makes them happy more than the adults who raise them.

Our happiness should be childlike. It ought to be simple and sacred. Our happiness, should belong only to us. It should not be held at the mercy of others or another. Happiness is the age old trick question when a friend or an educator asks us randomly, what makes you happy? The trick is to already know the answer to the question.