Girls Night In

Occasionally, my sister-friends and I get together and talk. We’ve been doing this for years – since high school at least. These “conversations” or “discussions” have grown from immature girlish cackles to full blown woman conversations about womanly things that now range and run the gamut from careers and money, sex and love, children, weddings, and our futures. These are random nights that we choose last minute, to get together, to chat and catch up; to be emotional and honest. Nights that we choose to sit in instead of painting the town.

This night, we claimed and called ours during an impromptu afternoon phone conversation: ‘Lets get together tonight. We need a girl’s night.’ And just like that, our previously empty evening was full. Prior to hanging up, we debated on dinner and what time we’ll get together. I wanted Papa Johns. She wanted Domino’s. I vouched for pan seared crab cakes with buttered rice and broccoli. She responded ‘absolutely not’. Crab cakes: out. Pizza: in. So I ordered enough food for at least two additional people: medium pizza, half cheese, the other half topped with chicken, mushrooms, onions, green peppers and pineapple (I knew she wouldn’t even touch this half, let alone look at it); also, medium hot wings, cheese sticks, and bread sticks. She was bringing a bottle of wine.

Five o’clock couldn’t get to me quick enough. But when it did arrive, a cognac colored bag slid up my arm and sat on my shoulder, parking garage ticket in hand, cell phone too, and I happily, left work, and anticipated an evening that I had no clue what to expect out of.

Before I knew it, it was 6:45 and she was knocking at my apartment door and ringing the bell. We hadn’t seen each in a week, but a fly on the wall would think we see each other daily. She came in, threw her bags on the couch and went into a full rant about how hot it was in the hallway, how she got locked in the house as she tried to leave, and why on earth did I order so much food. I just half way listened and quickly logged out of Facebook so I could eat – she’s nicknamed my hunger my 2^nd Person.

And over pizza, cheese sticks, wings, and fuzzy navel, we talked about life, relationships, love, our wants and needs, what was and what wasn’t going on, the heinous design on her feet to which she’s named ‘Mosaic’ and chuckled at the fact we had the same color pink on our toes. We caught each other up on what’s happened in the last few weeks, what we wanted to accomplish or do, to say or experience in the coming weeks – so that our next girls night would be just as exciting.

Unbeknownst her, she’s a great inspiration to me and a staple in my life, anything that goes horribly wrong or surprisingly correct, she’s first to know. If I can’t sleep, if I’m depressed, sad, happy, miserable, joyous – any emotion that I can’t deal with on my own, she knows all about it. She’s one of the few people to whom I cannot hide a tear-stricken voice from. And as my two year sister would yell, ‘That’s my boo’.

I shared with her my utter sadness that had taken place the week before. For a whole week. Seven days straight; how I barely ate, didn’t sleep, couldn’t concentrate, and for the life of me, could not get myself out of this emotionally drained rut I was in. Everyday without fail, with no reminder to do so – tears fell on their own accord, marching to their own tune. And within each day, I cried as if I knew my heart had been ripped out of my body and I was fighting to live. Then all of a sudden, I’d awakened one morning, energized and ready for something or some things though I had no clue to what or who they were. The tears stopped. The sadness ended. The unexpected, self-imposed depression was over. But I anticipated something; something good.

I’d also explained to her that this fellow, whom she was absolutely fond of for me, wasn’t for me. He was fun, a sweetheart, and a great listener. But, he held no benefit nor did he add to me or to my life. Just something to do, from time to time. That no matter how much I was remotely attracted to him, attraction dwindles, and, looks and handsomeness go away with time. That as I looked at my life then, now, and attempted to envision later, I began to notice how much overlooked and accepted just for fun. I needed something and someone who was timeless. And I was OK with the fact that he wasn’t.

Sharing this with her, she yelled and shouted about there’s no need for such madness, but, she understood. She understood that our bodies essentially do what they feel is necessary – we just have to comprehend and let the process take place. She understood that when in our lives, it’s midnight 24/7, there’s also work being done so that at daybreak, whenever it decides to arrive, we are better. She understood that this was something that had to take place in order for me to realize some things, as I was simultaneously letting them go. She understood that quite possibly, I knew what was best for me. This was a process that as daunting and sad as it was, I had to experience it. I had to let those tears fall, let those emotions that as old as they felt, they existed, and I had to deal with them head on and eventually, let them go.

It’s during this time of turmoil. This time of relinquishing things and individuals who hold no benefit to me and the spirit I nurture day-to-day, that I recalled months prior, a status I’d posted that was true to the second then and even truer months later as tears took over my lids and sobs shook my body In it, I stated:

"I know I made the best decision for me and my now; me and my later, my to be, my future because I feel comfort and reassurance in my spirit. In my thoughts. I see it in my smile. In my eyes and how they glimmer regardless of the time of day. I feel it in the curve of my back as I put on jeans and shirts, socks and shoes. No aches. No pains. No trauma. Just joy and the knowledge of knowing now was the perfect time."

Life is about a lot of things – but it revolves around love and growth. We live our lives for love. We spend our entire lives, for love, to be loved, to give love. To witness it in the 1^st degree, front row, in 3D, from 1^st and 3^rd person. Love is what we want, what we need, and we fight for it – sometimes to our death, and the death of others – just to prove how deep our love really is. And I wholeheartedly believe that all we want is for love to love us in return. To not be unrequited, but instead, to be faithful, honest, and fair. That’s all. That’s all we request out of life, whether man or woman, rich or poor, homeless or ridiculously successful – love is what we desire. Love, oftentimes holds more weight in this world than death – because even upon death, we love whomever or whatever it was that was previously a part of our lives as if they never departed. As if, their spirit and body are still attached as one.

Then, there are those times in life when death is not the culprit, but life itself. Circumstances that open eyes, ache hearts, and dampen brown, blue, gray, or green lids. Life too can and oftentimes does practice its own version of survival of the fittest in our lives – long before death does its rendition. We think we know who and what ought to be a part of our lives. We assume we know what’s really best for us. We, oftentimes, most of the time, take on the thoughts, opinions, and feelings of others, that we neglect our own. And in doing so, we cut and slash, delete and remove individuals who we think do not or should not be a part of our lives. Yet, we keep and nuture those who ideally, and honestly, have no place in our day-to-day existence.

It’s taken me 23 years to realize this. It took a night of pizza, wings, cheese sticks, and a half empty glass of fuzzy navel to comprehend all of this. It’s taken me 23 years of my life to be OK with what it means to let go. And even now, as I write this piece, and re-read aloud to an audience of one: just me, it surprises me more and more.

Ladies (and gents too!), should there be something or someone that is in your life to whom you question whether or not they’re beneficial to your wellbeing, your successes to come (downfalls too), whether they’re deserving of your worst and your best. Should you even have to question if they are worthy to coexist in a room, over a phone line, in a chat window, with you, they’re probably not. My mother shared with me as a young girl that if you have a feeling that your partner is unfaithful, they probably are. At a young age, she instilled into me that to know unfaithfulness, is to feel it. The same notion applies when it comes to an individual’s wellbeing and if another benefits them or not. No one knows just how much or how little someone benefits our lives but us. It’s OK to edit our circles like we edit essays and reports. It’s OK to remove people with the same guts we delete friends on Facebook. There’s nothing wrong with throwing away feelings that are outdated, feelings that we hold onto for the memories, because they were fun, like you’ve held onto that corner of smell good lotion or your once lucky jean jacket. Not everything that’s old, is meant to be new again.

So as our girls’ night ended, the love in the form of knowledge that I’ve received throughout my 23 years, came full circle as I closed a chapter and prepared to open a new one. Prepared to dive into a life that I know nothing about, but one that I anticipate. And one that I already endear and appreciate.

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.