Father Dearest,

The sarcasm runs deeper than the dislike. But so does the pain when I look back on life and realize all the times when I really needed your presence to be known, not just imagined. As women, we learn how not to "need" men. But as girls, you're life's best kept secret. Lucky me, the secret was a joke that I learned to heckle. 


There's a lot about me you do know because according to you, you made sure that you kept tabs on me as a child. You knew I was a wiz in school. That I enjoyed reading chapter books versus playing with the neighborhood kids. You knew I was well-mannered and polite. But all of these things were a given considering who my mother is. As you already know, Doreen plays no games.


But there's a lot that you don't know. And a lot that you unfortunately will not be privy to. This isn't about holding grudges or harboring ill feelings. It's about learning who to trust and who not to. And in this life, we're taught early not to trust those who we do not know. Trust like respect is earned. The fact of the matter is that you and I, we don't know each other.


As I push into 25 and as my brothers have said to me, "knocking on 30's door", I've been taking a lot of time re-evaluating relationships, including what little of one we have.


You remind me of the childhood crush who comes around every so often to see if we're still good. You come around every few years, maybe months to check-in. And not to my surprise or dismay, you always disappear. When you are around, things begin nicely. Reasonable conversations that aren't forced, but then, we delve into you being a shitty example of a father and your sob ass stories of the decisions you made as a child that continued into your adult life. And of course, how grateful and blessed you that the mother's of your children raised well-rounded, no shit taking, intelligent children who can hold their own. The little angel on my shoulder listens coyly and nods in understanding on behalf of humanity. But then, the little red devil bitch on the other shoulder could give a rats ass how you've spent millions on insurmountable amounts of drugs and coochie. Or about all of the great cities you've visited. And especially doesn't give a fuck about you wanting to get all of your children together under one roof and spend a day together as a family because you know that you can't make up for past times. Who-fucking-cares is what she thinks as she taps her pitchfork.


I respectfully get it. I know shit happens. It's a part of life. It's how we learn how to handle situations and people. But when that shit happens repeatedly, you are officially at fault. Case closed. And pity no longer lives here anymore. I was sympathetic at 15 when I knocked on my grandmother's door because someone told me you were there, and you had no fucking clue whose eyes you were staring into. Your eyes. Your eyebrows. The texture of your hair - all mine. How could you not recognize a face that resembles yours to the tee - just that of a pretty girl versus a battered man? I was sympathetic at 18 when you made promises of diamond earrings that instead of gifting, you either smoked or snorted because your arms have no signs of tract marks. I was even sympathetic when you apologized and was invited to be present to see me off for my senior prom and a guaranteed ticket to my high school graduation. No call. No show.


You consciously stayed out of my life as a child because of your severity of fucked up. I get that. And I respect that. I appreciate that more than what you may believe. I sincerely thank you for not bringing that bullshit into my childhood to further scar me. But, I remember seeing you at 2 in Adidas track pants as you gave me your half eaten bag of sunflower seeds; you'd came to the house to speak with my mother. I remember seeing you at 8 as I was riding with my cousin, on our way to a fair. You stopped the car because you recognized my cousin and saw that I was in the back seat. Your head was shaved bald. We talked a bit, I was shy, we said bye, and parted ways. The next time I saw you, I was 10, it was the summer time, I was on the steps with my Grandma and her best friend. You were walking by with your girlfriend at the time, who would become my sister's mother. You looked at me, and never uttered a sound. Never even slowed your pace to take a longer glimpse at me. I sat, and watched your every step. I remember you had on jean shorts and a baby blue short sleeved polo shirt. If I knew then what I know now, I would've wished for the ground below you to open up and swallow your simple ass. The next time I saw you, I was 15, when I knocked on your mother's door, but you didn't even recognize me.


At 24 and weeks away from 25, my focus is no longer on building a relationship with a man that I as the product of you, have tried to build and create some sort of closeness with for the past 10 years off-and-on. I still need to finish my bachelors. Travel a bit. Find a new apartment. Be a better sister, daughter, granddaughter, friend. Be a better me so I can be an excellent wife and mother. There really isn't much room for your bullshit anymore.


How can I expect you to be a "father-in-law" when you don't know the daughter and wouldn't be able to educate him on me? How can I expect you to be a "grandfather" when even now, with two growing grandsons from your eldest son, you're not even a constant presence in their lives? I've spent my life asking these questions. And now as a grown, adult woman, these are serious ass questions that require equally serious ass responses. Not excuses. Not stories of what you dream to become reality. No, just hard core truth. I'd fair better if you could say "I don't know if I could ever be these things" versus feeding my precious ears with bullshit of what you want and hope to happen.


I'm a big girl who's grown up in an even bigger city. Raised to be feisty and to shoot from the hip from an equally feisty and driven mother, I've faired off better than a lot of women my age.


I can't say I don't need a father, because all children need a father. But that figure may not necessarily be whose DNA you're made of. 


You've missed out on a lot and are missing out on even more. 


As human beings, we don't stop growing once we learn to stand and walk, talk, count, and recite our ABCs. Yes, those are momentous events, but, they don't stop there. We grow and obtain jobs that lead to careers and success that deserve to be celebrated. We grow and lead lives that may not necessarily be ideal, but, to conquer struggles and downfalls too deserve to be celebrated. We become parents and wedded partners. Because you were never around, my father figures have been replaced several times in my life. At 6, my favorite uncle was locked up on the same day my great-grandfather died. My grandfather, who is my favorite man dead or alive, died when I was 9. And the man I grew up calling Daddy, I learned to love and despise. Women have primarily been my comfort in this life. And men, have come a dime a dozen. Including you.


I am grateful for your existence because otherwise I wouldn't be here. But that's where it begins and ends. I have no hatred in my heart, but if I did, you'd have the top slot. Whether or not we've reached our breaking point, I don't know. But if we have, I know that both as child and woman, I've done more than my share. And I pray, should God grant me another go around in lifetimes to come, that I have learned all of the lessons to learn from you and this experience so that I may not experience this ever again. Same prayer for you as well because I couldn't imagine being a parent and knowing that my presence in the lives of my children is not deemed a present.

A Challenge Disguised In Self-Love

the easiest thing in this life is holding onto what we know. the hardest thing is letting that thing or person go. it takes nothing to revert to feelings felt before, stating words repeated 50 million times before, or even, crying old tears. but to do what's never been done before, and sticking to it, is our greatest individual challenges. it, is the greatest show of self-love that we can give ourselves.


there's nothing easier in this life than to go back. but equally, there's nothing more rewarding than giving yourself permission to let go and free yourself of whatever it is that has a hold of you.


give it a try. and see just how much your life changes - for the best and better.


***

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.

Happy New Year from GirllNexxDoor

speaking from first hand experience, 2011 was downright cruel. but i made it out alive, laughing, smiling, and happy. it ended in a way that juxtaposed perfectly against the trials i endured during and throughout the year. so at the end of the day, not much and nothing else mattered.


there are no new year resolutions, we're just continuing on the path to conquer and achieve, to successfully complete goals that have already been put into motion. but most importantly, we're not looking back. and i hope you aren't either. there's nothing there but memories, some good and some horrid. there are no repeats, you can't go back there and for some of us, me included, we don't want to go back. 


so while some of us are still in our 2011 closing outfits, some in pajamas, some in nothing at all, and some, quite possibly wearing the contents of your belly from indulging a tad bit much in the night's celebratory alcoholic beverages, lets make 2012 memorable. make it worth while. make it what we want and what we dream.


i wish you and yours nothing but wealth, success, peace, and insurmountable amounts of blessings. you deserve to be here, because otherwise, you wouldn't be.

***

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.

***

The Speechless Feeling

you know that feeling in the pit of your stomach you get when that person is in your presence? that feeling that makes you believe you can sit and just stare at their existence for eternity and not grow tired. that feeling that makes all around you disappear as nothing and no one else matters but them. that feeling of fluttering butterflies who'd rather tickle your insides than escape you and be free. that feeling, when you realize you're in the right place at the proper time with the correct person.


it's an indescribable feeling, but it feels wonderful when your heart and mind are synced. there aren't even enough words to paint the perfect picture of what this feeling feels like. the tightness of their arms around you as the two of you drift off to sleep and for those few hours, drift into forever. the feeling of you waking, realizing his arms aren't wrapped you as he realizes it too and embraces your existence once again.


that feeling. that indescribable feeling that even as i try to paint this perfect picture for you, i can't. tongue tied and tangled into knots so severely that only that smile and those thoughts adequately depict exactly what these hands are trying to explain to you. he, leave her speechless. and she, loves every bit of it.


and when it all ends, temporarily, they each countdown to next time.

All Mixed Up

I dream his voice
and feel his eyes.
I taste his smile
and sense his stroll.
I smell his presence
and write him into reality.

All mixed up
it's tough getting this thing right,
but with kisses so sweet
and a presence so endearing,
I,
don't necessarily mind.

Unrecognizable

i
searched
and waited
but you never came back.
i
traveled
to the end of time
and checked the beginning of it all
in hopes
to re-discover
you
and thus, us.
i
prayed for the ability
to re-dream dreams once dreamt
to get a glimpse of the you
and us
i remember-
the us that challenged the world
and re-designed
what young love
looked
and felt like;
gave the world
something to talk about,
something to study on
and dissect
in attempts to figure out
what was it
that made us
tick
and buzz
like bumbling busy bees buzzing
and screaming our names-
etching our existence
permanently
into the realm of time
so that lifetimes from now
we
would still exist.

but yet,
i
could not find us.
i
could not seek what i sought
nor re-dream dreams once dreamt about
i
could not re-create
re-design
re-conform or confirm
the love
that i know
we
created.

none of these things was
i
able to find.
yet,
i turn over
in our bed
and i see your face,
but i cannot
do-not
recognize
the lover
nor the love
that
i know
was built with
and by my maimed hands
river bed of tears
and my ear curling screams
begging
for survival
for the us
that shall last
for lifetimes to come,
for histories to study us
and for lovers to mimic the best of us.

i search
and i seek
the you
i once recognized.

jill scott

cross my mind

beautifully human part I

A Love That Is Mine and Mine Alone

The truth of the matter is it doesn't matter how much or how hard you try to push them out of your mind and subsequently out of your life, they're going to cross your mind. It's oftentimes, inevitable. And in my case, I'd run into them before the process could be completed.


The break-up and thereafter was far from amicable. We were like captives on a distant island that didn't know what it meant to cordially disagree. And was displayed for the world to see. When two adults display their raw emotions in states of anger and frustration, the pictures painted are never pretty ones. But we deal with the consequences as we normally do in life. Play the cards however they were dealt to you. Roll with it. Keep it moving. Look at the picture however you choose so long as you don't allow that picture to hinder your growth.


Love is what I write about. It's what I live for. Nikki Giovanni herself even said that we love because it's the only true adventure. I believe this. And I've lived this very belief and quote out on front street for the past 3.5+ years. The heart's desire does whatever it damn well pleases to. And all we can do is trek along with it. And this trekking along also means dealing with the outcomes to predicaments of that and those journeys; including having mutual friends and being adults about a nasty situation, handled in a cold, cold world.


I harbor no ill feelings. No hatred. No bitterness. No anger. No frustrations. None. And God knows I know there are millions of women who would perhaps brow beat me for not feeling this way. But I don't. It's not in my genetic makeup to feel such a way. I believe, everyone's deserving of forgiveness. But everyone is also deserving of a love that is going to love them to their core. A love jones.



He said to me that "... I wanted a love jones sort of love."  "And I do. I deserve it. I desire it. I await it with open arms. I use to believe that no love was worth it without a fight. But should my love for you be pure and true, unyielding, faithful, and forever, there should be no fight, so long as your love is equal and just as endearing as mine...."


I could and probably will write about love forever because it's so multifaceted that there's no one true picture of what it looks, sounds, and feels like. 


All I know is that the love I want and a love I seek, is forever and enduring. It's, the butterflies fluttering my the pit of stomach as we kiss or the sound of jingling keys or a hearty laugh. 


All I know, is that I want a love that is mine and mine alone.

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.


***