At the heart of the Matter

Dear Readers,

I want to love the world through the heart of a child. To experience unconditional warmth, acceptance, to embrace life with pure openness. To love with the heart of a child is to be brave, adventurous, and unassuming. To love with the heart of a child means to be fearless, playful, selfless, and bold. To love with the heart of a child means to forgive, hold no grudges, to be curious, and ask why? When children love they embrace you with hugs that melt your heart and chase away the boogeyman. Children love with deep loyalty, and their love is not conning or wonders what they will gain or lose by loving. 

Unlike the heart of adults that have lost its warmth, locking out hope and possibilities. The heart of adults is weak, selfish, cold, and holds grudges. It’s been traumatized by disappointment, neglect, abuse, broken promises, lost love, anger, and resentment. Adults love with a heart that questions loyalty, and loves with the mindset that questions, ” what’s in it for me”? Unlike adults when children love there is no plan B, or leaving options open. 

The heart is an organ that is the center of life,  yet we are careless and neglectful in the way we take care of our hearts. The majority of humanity is guilty and careless about expressing,  practicing and showing authentic love. We take love for granted like we do our hearts until there is a breakdown then and only then we perceive how important authentic love is, and how vital it is for our survival. Nothing grows ( Matures) without love, every creature and human needs to be nurtured. But, sometimes we wait until the very thing or person that we claim to love departs from our lives to understand that love is much more than a momentary feeling, and that love is healing just as much as it is destructive. 

Are we a society that has given up on understanding the sacred power of love? I loved once it was sweet, joyful, trusting, and as blissful as the rising sun after a spring rain. I shall love again because I believe in a child like love.

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Fed UP

Dear Readers,

Black men are accusing black women of being angry, having bad attiudes, and difficult to be in relationships. So, here is the voice of one black women speaking out. It’s not only black women who seem to be angry and have bad attitudes, Its women in general. Women are kicking back against years of mistreatment, degradation and the forceful eyes of the male gaze. Black men are oblivious to the shift of women collectively pushing back from accepting the statues quo of how women are supposed to submit to her man. Yeah, well maybe the submissive act work back in cave men day, we are living in a advanced and modern society; where women no longer have to sit down and shut up. We have risen from the days of sufferage transforming themselves into self sufficient, educated, capable women who have disconnected ourselves from the ideology that women are supposed to be bare foot and pregnant. Women have overcome the standard norm of just being somebody’s wife, housekeeper and sexual object. Women no longer choose to reside in homes where their opinions and voices are not respected because the man Is the sole financial supporter of the home. Women are told that running after children, washing tons of laundry, overseeing homework and other school projects, serving on the PTA, cooking, cleaning, organizing carpools, braiding hair, food shopping, and balancing a tight household budget is not equal to a man bringing home a paycheck. Black Women are done with being held down, keep back, control, abused, manipulated, underpaid, and underappreciated.

So, if black men perceive black women to be angry maybe its because black men have for years gotten away with running games on them, passing black women around like rent-a- chicks, over looking them for white women, dropping seeds and not staying around for financial, physical, and emotional support for their children. Instead, black men want to spend the bulk of their lives being a player, pusher, and pimp daddy drifting from one ignorant sister to the next because some young black women haven’t discovered their self worth. Most black men are afraid of black women who are strong, focused, critical thinkers, financially secure, and emotionally stable. Sistahs have risen above the slick talk and promises of a better day, we are no longer falling prey to the black man’s idea of ” lets just see where this takes us .” Black women have become wise to the game of giving brothers the best years of their lives. Black women are not angry they are fed up with irresponsible, emotional unstable, financial lacking, unfocused, non committing black men. So, we are no longer sitting and waiting for a black prince charming who may never arrive. Black women are buying homes, cars, raising children, earning college degrees, and pulling in six figure salaries. So, to all the black men in the world who accuse black women of being angry and hard to get along with, I say, from where I stand anger looks good on me. The voice of a black women.

What say you?

The Mission

Dear readers, This post is longer than my usual  250-300 words.  Let me refresh your memory.  If you’ve been following  my blog or watch my videos I’ve been taking about relationships and the ending of my 90 day engagement. Now, hold on before you get teary eye and start mourning  my lose. It was good that I got out when I did. I refused to remain in a relationship that does not value me. So, I decided to go on a 90 day journey to refocus my life, and get healthy mentally and physically.  when the journal is completed I will publish it. My mission is to help people understand that starting over, is not the end of having a good life, go through the process of learning how to not just move on, but to create a new life while working through their pain.  One suggest, please stay away from people who want to help you throw a pity party. This is not about being a victim. This new life is about thriving.

Day 1, August 27, 2018. I did not go into this 90-day plan thinking that the storm was over just because mt relationship ended, and the universe would cut me some slack. Ha! I arrived at work fresh and ready to get back into my groove. Not a chance I was met with this memo: short version the department has decided to cut my hours. I had an immediate melt down in front of everyone. Long story short after spending most of the workday going from one office to the next, another department was more than happy to restore my hours. Instead of me taking a step back and breath I ate a muffin. Oh well. Tomorrow is Gym Day…. 8:30 P.M. the day is done and all I want to do was make it home. Upon leaving I discovered that a long-time co-worker and friend had retired and soon after died.  Again, for the second time tears flowed. I knew this person for 15 years, he was kind, funny, had a great smile, and could tell funny jokes. I boarded the train and could not wait to get home and bury my face in my pillow and cry. 89 days to go.

Day 2, August 28, 8:15 A.M. I left the house early; I walked the 10 blocks to the train station I need to lose the extra flab. I looked at myself in the full-length mirror on my bathroom wall. I wish I could have ripped it off, not the fat the mirror. I felt disgusted I thought about all the time I wasted not going to the gym, so that I could spend time with HIM. Oops. This is what we do, after a break up; we look for every moment to revert to past memoirs. We want to blame the other person because of the pain, anger, rage; we want our feelings validated. The truth is that I could have found the time to go to the gym. I did not have  to eat the bread, muffins, and the delicious unhealthy fried foods. I lost my commitment to me; I lacked the discipline and drive to push myself. Being in a relationship does not give anyone permission to slack. So, each day until the weather turns cold.  I will walk the 10-12 blocks every time I have to ride the train.

Day 3, August 29, Day off, I slept late and wanted to stay in bed, it would be easy to stay in bed, closed up in my room. No, I will not allow the ghost of depression to take my soul hostage. I could use the weather as an excuse it is 94 degrees. I put on a skimpy dress, put my hair up, got a bottle of water, and took a slow walk to the train station. Dunkin Donuts was my savior, ice coffee never tasted so good. I set out to visit May, my former hair stylist. I found her book an appointment. Now, what do I do with the rest of my day. I took the bus to 125^th street, I hopped from store to store soaking up the air condition. Brought some much-needed hair products, two pairs of slacks and eat some healthy fast food, and headed home. On the walk back from the train station I give in two stops from home I took the bus. I had enough of punishing in the heat for being lazy and gaining weight.

P.S. I have not begun the search for a therapist.

Day 4, August 30, today was the best day of the week. I am slowly making peace with the distance I travel to work and church. Good news, I am moving to a bigger space within the house this means I can some of my personal belongings out of storage. I cannot wait to sit at my desk and get my groove back. I sent HIM the letter that I had prepared a month ago before the breakup. It does not matter whether he reads it, or if he reads the letter and ignores the content, what is important to me is that I addressed the elephant in the room. The truth is that I emotionally checked out the moment he told me that I had to choose between advancing my teaching career by wanting to teach overseas and being his wife. It was only a matter time.

So tell me how am I doing thus far?