Why I Stayed,

No one knows why I stayed but me. We reach a point in life and specifically in certain relationships where we've grown so comfortable with the bullshit that we wind up convincing ourselves that to start over defeats the purpose. So we stay. I did. I convinced myself, with his help of course, that I didn't have the patience or the time to meet and get to know another person and their habits, attitudes, likes, and dislikes. To learn someone new again. Who has that sort of time? So I stayed. "We not gettin' any younger T." So clearly, I was getting too old to seek and find and learn a new person too. I stayed through the cheating, lying, verbal abuse, and sheer laziness. I stayed through the excuses, schemes, and blaming everyone else for why you're where you are in life. I stayed. I stayed through the threats of if I can't have you nobody will, through the threats to knife up your wrists with our kitchen knives, stayed through blocking the door so I couldn't escape - to stay and wallow with him in his misery.


I stayed because I was the good girlfriend playing "good wife".


But eventually, that shit got old. Real old. And it started to stink and to wear me down. There's but so much encouragement that I could give when what I really wanted to say was "shut the fuck up and get up off your ass. no one owes you shit, not even a good fucking morning sunshine". I began to spend my days off at my mother's for a piece of peace of mind. I grew tired of my brain always working and working the majority of the time to keep him functioning.


A weary woman is not a happy woman no matter what she says. If she claims she's happy, she's fucking lying.


I was tired of redoing resumes and hearing the dreams of how to make these moves and build "our" legacy. Build a legacy when you don't have a leg to stand on. The irony was appalling. But my being so comfortable and being OK with it because it'll change, things'll get better was just as disgusting. As much as I was tired of working 16 hour long days at work to catch up on the late rent and past due bills, coming home to take the trash out, do the dishes, and straighten up the living room while he was stretched out in the bedroom, I'd convinced myself that this was as good as it gets. I stayed because I had already prepared myself that this was going to be my life.


Oh yes, I stayed.


I continued to make excuses and enable the behaviors. But, if I'd said or did what I really wanted to, my day and quite possibly, my week, or months to come would have been severely fucked up. My level of miserable would have been beyond 100.


I stayed so I wouldn't have to hear the bullshit. So I wouldn't have to be threatened with what I wasn't going to do and what he was going to do. The threats were just as empty as the promises but it took me a while to realize such.


I stayed, because while he didn't have a leg to stand on, I'd lost my original backbone and needed one rebuilt.


Don't get me wrong, there was love. Insurmountable amounts of love. But the shit was fucked up. I fell in love with who I thought he would grow into and he fell in love with who I was when we met. I fell in love with thinking I could mold him into who I wanted him to be versus who and what his reality was. It didn't take long for him to show me his real face, but I didn't believe what he showed me, so I stayed. And grew angry at him for my knowingly mistaking him to be someone he wasn't.


My mistake was taking my frustrations out on him for not being who I imagined him to be instead of admitting such and leaving well enough alone from the rip. Instead, I stayed thinking I could change this boy into the man I wanted.


And don't get me wrong, he put it down. On the regular. But I got it and other bitches got it too. Yet, my simple ass stayed thinking shit would change. And eventually it did. But, a cheetah doesn't change its spots like a zebra can't transpose its stripes. And change, well that bitch was a few days late and several dollars short.


Believe what you see when you see it. That, is the difference between now and later.


The love we shared was limitless. There was nothing we would not have done for one another - other than leave. We both knew we were both better apart than we were together, but we weren't strong enough for each other or ourselves to let it go.


But eventually, the weary woman wanted to be happy without the weary or the drama or the pain. She wanted to be with someone who she could genuinely love for them and not for her thoughts. She had to own up to the fact that lost trust and non-belief alone was more than enough of a reason of why she couldn't walk that well trodden road yet again.


I stayed because change was too scary. Because I misconstrued a lot of things for love when it wasn't about love, because sometimes, love just isn't enough of a reason to hang around. It's frightening to see the person you've shared your life with stand before you threatening to cut their wrists if they can't have you as if you're their property. There aren't enough words to explain the sheer fear of thinking you can't move on with your life because that person won't allow you to do so.


There are a lot of things that love is, but equally, there are many things that love is not.


I apologize for staying around longer than I know I should have. I apologize for not being the stronger one sooner to let it go so repair could have began earlier. But life is about learning and I pray that you've walked away with just as many lessons as I have without holding an embittered heart. Love is worth fighting for. But love is also worth letting go for individual repair versus combined destruction. We stayed thinking time really does and would heal all wounds, but not if you're not brave enough to stop patching up scars as if they don't exist.


To finally have let go is honestly one of the best decisions I've made to date. My individual happiness means the world to me and I honor it just as much as I honor the love we shared. But, the truth of the matter is that it was time. We'd taught all we could teach and bought to the table everything in our power, including the messiness. This was nothing more than a good ass chapter that had to come to an end.

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.

***

getting my peace of mind

Dear You.


Yes you. Especially if you think this is about you, then yes, it can be about you too. I know somewhere in your psyche, you think, well, you've convinced yourself that without you, I'd be nothing. Better yet, I would have been up shit's creek without a paddle to maintain the waves or a compass to know which way to go, if it all weren't for you. Claiming credit where it by far is not due.


But guess what? I'm fine. And like many urbanites like myself who weren't born with a silver spoon attached to their tongues, I'm good. And to be honest, I'm glad, no happy, shit, I'm proud of me for having walked away and not looking back. For having grown the balls you were incapable of maintaining to say enough was enough.


I claim myself and only the individual I am. Heart, mind, titties, ass, smile, happiness, everything - all included. And I must say, I am the grand prize. I am above 1st place status and especially beyond 2nd place "runner-up-coming-up". There's no one like me. And never will be. This though, you already know.


I am over what was and what use to be. And just because I'm spilling my sarcastic ass feelings into this piece of literature, it does not mean I want you. No sir.


I need nor do I want anything from you. I desire nor crave nothing that comes of your being. No conversations, apologies, puppy dog eyes of a man who's lost his battle. Nothing. No phone calls, text messages, e-mails; no forms of communication. No reason to connect. I harbor no ill feelings, hostility, nor anger. I wish nothing upon your life that could potentially do harm to you or that could alter your life in ways you cannot even imagine. 


My main and only concern in this current and present life of mine is myself. That is all. I've reached a point where I could care less about your words, thoughts, intentions, or desires. Because sir, you know, just like I know, Karma, is a bitch. Life knew just what she was doing when she made Karma, sexually speaking, a cold blooded fucking woman! And I already know, your name, is indeed on it.


To you, you walked away with nothing. To you, I forced you to begin all over again. To you, I have everything, and was inconvenienced by none. If you say so. But the last time I checked: that large, lavish apartment has been traded in for a twin sized bed while I solely am still paying for that large, lavish apartment that you too resided in. You remember that apartment right? The same one you laid your head at when the night sky took over. The same one where I scrounged and struggled for months to make all ends meet while your sad attempts to get on your feet didn't quite come through. Yet, I would have lost it all if it weren't you. Are you sure about this? Or is this just what you irresponsibly spill into the streets and atop of the ears of whomever will listen to make yourself look good? How about no comment? Or, I'd rather not speak on it. How about "I fucked up. But I have to move on". Any of these would work magically for me because then the hard work I did put in and the dedication I did exude would not be trampled on by your selfish, inconsiderate, lonely ass words on the simple fact that you've grown bitter.


You hold no power over me or my successes. Your presence has no place in my future regardless of how hard you attempt to ease your way in. You words mean nothing regardless of how hatefully you spew them all in the name of hatred and anger. You, are no longer a factor in anything I do.


But go ahead and carry on. Because while you harbor these ill-gotten feelings that really should be geared towards yourself, I pay you no mind. I fight daily to regain the peace of mind that rightfully belongs to me. But do understand, this peace, was never in your jurisdiction. This peace, is brand new and refreshing; it has no imprint of days spent with you. And yes, I fight daily to leave you further in the past than you were yesterday. I, will and can be everything you claim me to be because you, my former beau, are no longer a factor. I will be all the fat bitches I've ever been to you because you, have no stake to profit off of when it comes to me.


So Sir, enjoy the words you regurgitate today, for they may be the words you eat tomorrow.




Sincerely,
never looking back.

Chrisette Michele

Goodbye Game

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.

Shacking Up

For some, it works wonders. For others, it's a deal breaker. For me, never again.
We moved expecting that life would only get better. Yeah, we expected and anticipated hard times, but long as we had each other, life was headed for All-Graveyland.

At least that's what we thought.

Before I knew it, good times and laughter were soon out the window and nonstop hard times were waltzing through the door. From infidelity and lost of trust to reduced work hours and not so amicable break-ups, I tell you, this wasn't what I signed up for. But then again, when shacking up, this is exactly what I signed up for.

Three and a half years, three break-ups, hundreds of sleepless nights, screaming fits with wall shattering glasses later, I've finally come to make the decision not to ever, ever, ever, shack up again. Til' death do me part, if no ring, vows, and marriage certificate, Theresa'll be living alone.

And this is no laughing matter. This is the real deal.

A co-worker and I had this very same conversation while at work at the end of our shift as the boys were on their way to sleep. Granted it's totally understood that not all men and women are like me and him, and in some situations, it works. But in others, it can be a total diaster (hence my case). And because of this, I'd never suggest or push for a dating couple to move in and live together. There's too much messyness that comes along it. Yes, it would be grand to learn a partner's habits before marrying. And yes, it's nice to have someone to fall asleep and wake up next to at night and in the morning. And it's even sweeter to have someone to spend off-days cozied next to while watching reruns of your favorite shows and movies. Yes, these things are fabolous. And there's nothing like it...

But...

Of course there's the flip side to it too. There's also the emotional inability to realize that something's wrong in your relationship because you're spazing about the dishes piling up in the sink, his sticky socks clinging to your lace Victoria Secret hiphuggers, and lets not forget about the overflowing clothes hampers that need to be washed while the over-stuffer roaster's cooking. It's easier to spot shit from a distance than if it's already in your personal space. It's easier to forget about yourself when you're sharing corridors with your partner. And once we forget about ourselves, and become blind to the foolishness that may be happening, a relationship's approval rating plummets and home becomes hell, catching ablaze.

So while I my spend days and nights piecing a new life together, I reflect on such a decision that I'll go to lengths if need be to share my story with others in hope that they can prevent themselves from experiencing what I battled through and finally escaped. Often, after we've successfully taken 10 steps forward, we have to take double those steps back to check ourselves, our lives, and our circles. And one thing I've realized during my ongoing reality check, shacking up, is the one thing I promise myself that I'll never do again.

The love I can handle, the messyness I can't.