I don’t believe in Fairy-Tales and here’s why….

I want to walk down the isle like most women. At least I think I do. I am not sure if I wanted to get married at all to be frank with myself. It has never been something high on my priority list as a child or as an adult. I never remembered playing with my Barbie and Ken dolls and pretending that they were getting married. Cinderella and her lost slipper never excited me nor did Snow white and her poison red apple ring a bell of love in my mind. I never understood how the glass slipper never broke while she was running down the stairs to catch her pumpkin. It also baffled me why a women wanted to be saved and taking care of by a man in the first place. Why didn’t she want her own independence, her own job and a husband for a constellation prize. Nor did I understand how an enchanted kiss could wake one up from a sleeping death like in Snow white.

Death at an early age for me always seemed so permanent and final to me. Something that life didn’t allow any “do overs” for.  Fairy tales where never my thing as a child because my life was far from a fairy tale. Do you know what? I identified more with the terrible step mother and step sisters and how they treated Cinderella . I could relate to her in that aspect because I saw my sister in the step sisters and my father in the evil step mother. As for Snow white I understood how it felt to be ran off from home by the wick step mother and have to flee and live in the woods with strangers to get away from the dangers that resided back home. I too had a wicked mother that kicked me out of the house at the age of twelve and I had to go into the concrete jungles of Miami all alone. I had to get help from friends and strangers to help me when I was out there by myself. No matter how often those books where read to me with good intention from my father they fell on deaf ears secretly.

I know he wanted me to have child like wonder fueled with a budding imagination but he snatched that when he filled my reality with harsh truths and physically pain daily. I didn’t believe that good men like that existed outside of books. They where conjured up in a writers mind and brought to life as their ideas flowed on to blank pages. Their words neatly arranged in black and white giving the reader a visual glimpse of the perfect man that they envisioned in their own mind. My sister on the other hand lived in La La land in the bedroom across from my doom and gloom room. She collected all the Cabbage Patch Kid dolls in every color. She was so excited about the fake adoptions papers that she signed and took to heart. She really believed that she was a young mommy adopting a real baby. She loved all the fairy tales, the cheesy love stories that she read and all the love stories she watched. She was a great student. All American type kid in school and was the first born. She was the good child in respects. She saw life from a different set of eyes from mines and she was treated differently than me too.

I find it oddly funny that my sister ended up getting married. She was the first of my fathers three daughters to get married. I was so happy that he was able to walk one of his daughters down the isle before he died. He was so excited and happy to be apart of her big day. She however wasn’t able to conceive children naturally on her own. The Irony of it all is that; she was so excited when she signed her real adoption papers for her son in real life. She was so happy just like she was  younger signing her pretend adoption papers for her Cabbage Patch kid dolls. As I reflect upon her life with wonderment now instead of jealousy like I did before. I stand in awe of how successful her life turned out. How she made all the right life choices and the results of it is apparent in her life. If you google her name you will see the list of all her accomplishments, achievements, accolades, educational degrees and more. You will see where her practice is located and what company she is the CEO of. I am very proud of her because life wasn’t easy for her either.

At the age of 12 and 13 we both lived with a different parent. I lived with my dad and she lived with my mother. My mother was a very intelligent women and she had three Master degrees under her belt too. Where as my father dropped out of school and drove a cab for a living. My sister also lived in a two parent house with my mom and step dad and I lived with my father. I WONDER if that had anything to do with how differently turned out? There was a point as children that we grew up in the same household with my dad until she went to live with my mom in her teenage years. I am not sure what happened for her in between those years for her  but I do know what happen to me. My father was never a man that brought women in and out of the home we shared.(I am the same way to this day}

I can only recall one women that he dated. She use to take us out, take us shopping and do are hair. I was to young to know what to look for in a healthy relationship back then. I never witness them hugging, kissing or displaying any signs of affection towards each other. I never saw her stay over night after she cooked us dinner and help put us to bed. When we were out as a family he never held her hand or showed any type of endearment towards her. He did do one thing. He always gave he money for to purchase clothes, shoes and jewelry. Every month her drove her to have favorite Salon to get her hair done. I recalled it was more than $300.00 to get it done because he complained about how expensive it was in front of me while handing her the money. Who am to pass judgment on his relationship?

He treated her just like he treated me. Why would I expected him to treat her any differently? He wasn’t affectionate to me growing up either. He was not a person that showed his affection through touch or words. He would give you money when you did something well or made great grade in school. However, he missed the mark with hugs and forehead kisses. He would pat you on the head to reassure you that he was proud of you. He only held my hand to cross the street nothing more or not less. He tucked me at night and turned and walked out the door. He was emotionally unavailable. He was the type of man that showed his love through materialistic items like clothing, shoes, toys, amazing Christmas’s  and more. You get the point. If he wasn’t buying me things with a smile on his face he was physically and emotionally abusing me with a scowl on his face. There was nothing fairy tale about my childhood.

I entered into my teenage years and started dating at the age of fourteen. I had it set in my mind what I thought I wanted in a man and how I wanted the man to treat me or love me. I have never seen with my own two eyes what a healthy relationship looked like before.  I knew one thing fore sure and that was; I didn’t want to be loved the way that my father loved me. I set out looking for the kind of the love that resembled my favorite childhood T.V shows such as; The Brandy Bunch, Leave it to Beaver and The Cosby show. I wanted a man that loved me like Cliff loved Clair on the Cosby show. I didn’t realize at the time that I was going to attract the exact men into my my life that I detested and and wanted no parts of over the next two decades. Some people say that “ You attract what you want in life.” I believe differently. I believe “You attract what’s in your heart” and “ you attract what you are”. I am a hurt, abused and confused soul and that is just what I ATTRACTED.

I was so use to dysfunction that I could not tell that my first relationship I was in was a toxic and dysfunctional relationship. My first love was brought up in a home where domestic violence against mother was a normal and reoccurring theme in his home too. I was used to being the victim in my home and he was use to his mother being the victim in his home. By the time we met up we were both looking for something we where missing in are lives and we thought we could give whatever the missing piece was to each other. His home became my second home for years to come. It started out in the beginning as being my safety net; my home away from home. A place where I could relax, feel safe; feel loved and a place I could be happy. I was there every day after work and school. I went on all the family outings and trips with them and more. Then it began . It was a slow leak. So slow that I never paid attention to it until it was overflowing and out of control. He became controlling and possessive over time. Instead of warning signals going off in my head; I could hear wedding bells instead.

“Omg, He really loves me” I thought. He doesn’t want men looking at me. Oh how sweet that he is calling to check on me to make sure that I got home I said to myself. I thought him keeping tabs on my where about meant that he really cared not that he was controlling my movements.  Then when he start to hit me I was not afraid because all my life my father had physically abused me. At least I thought to myself I can fight him back. That will not make me a victim like his mom if I fought back. I wasn’t going to allow him to hit me and not fight back. I can’t begin to tell you how many times we both landed in the ER from injuries that we gave each other. It all came to a head when I was living on my own and we had a big blow out. He thought I was cheating. I remember the heated exchange of words.

His hands around my neck and me feeling light head. I reached for a knife on the kitchen counter and I stabbed him in the stomach. There was blood, 911 calls, cop cars and an ambulance. They took him to the hospital and me to jail. When I got out I went to see him in the hospital. As he is laying in the bed talking to the doctor he see me enter the room. He turns to me and said “ What are you looking at”? “ You want him too”? He asked me.He was referring to the doctor who was treating him. I couldn’t believe he was laying in a hospital bed and still acting controlling. Time elapsed and years went by. That relationship ended when I moved out of state. All the relationships after that mimicked the same scenarios. I was on a hamster wheel of toxicity. I was drawn over and over again to men like my father.

The one thing I can say is that my first love never cheated on me . At least not that I know of. In my twenty’s I experienced what infidelity  felt like. That was a crushing feeling to say the least. I promised myself that if any man did that to me I would leave. I told the man in my new relationship the same thing too. So when he told me that he did I was a new kind of broken.What I thought I would do is not what I did. I stayed and forgave him. So now I added on being cheated on into my bag of unhealthy, toxic and dysfunctional mixture. I was so angry with myself for accepting a new pile of acceptableness into my life. I know now that I was missing self respect and self love at the time. I was just search for what love looked like in my minds eyes. No matter how screwed up my thinking was on the subject of love I was going to chase it to high heaven until I tasted what it tasted like. I had no idea what I am searching for in reality but I was searching never the less. Years later I found myself alone with two kids. The relationship deteriorated as it should have after the birth of my last daughter.

The father of my children was just like my father as well. He become emotionally and physically abusive . I recall being 7 mouths pregnant and having a fist fight with him over another women. The fight ended with his boot in my belly and me being rushed to the Emergency room.On both occasions he left town when I was pregnant with both kids and came back after they were born. I had both kids alone. I was so messed up that I thought it was wrong to move on and be with another man after having his kids.He always said “ No one will want you now after you had kids”. I believed that for many years and it made me stay in that relationship longer than I need to be. That relationship took a toll on my self esteem big time. My once beautiful body now had stretch marks and extra weight on it and I felt ugly and fat. For years after me he talked to me in demeaning ways. He always called me Ugly, fat, stupid, a bitch and a bad mother and for years you couldn’t tell me any differently because the words he planted into the depths of my mind and it started bloom into my reality in how I viewed myself. It was best that relationship ended.

The relationship I had after was with a man ten years older. I thought if I got an older man it would be different. He was and still is a great human being. He loved me and my kids like no other man before. He never hit me but he overtime became emotionally  abusive. I thought that was better than nothing and at least he wasn’t hitting me. He was a great provider too. However, It ended because I thought it was unfair to be in a relationship with someone that I was not in love with. It was unfair to him because he loved me so much and I could not reciprocate his love back. Not long after we broke up I discovered he was cheating on me with the next door neighbor all along and that’s who he ended up falling in love with and falling in love with him in return. I was angry at first when I found out what he did but I was happy after when I found out that he was loved in fullness by this lady and that all that mattered.

By the time I got into my last relationship I was tired. I was tired of being cheated on, hurt, abused, used , mistreated and discharged.I told myself that I was going to try something new. I wanted to be in an open relationship because I would rather know up front who he’s sleeping with than to find out who he is sleeping with behind my back. I wanted to be in something that was out titles, rules or restrictions. I wanted to be in something to feel something without feeling anything at the same time if he decided to jump up and leave. I went into my last relationship in this way. In the beginning it was super fun to me. There was no conflict, fighting, abuse or pain. It was all fun until low and behold my feelings came into the picture unannounced and with out warning. All that I thought I wanted was not what I truly wanted. I thought that was trying something new and I thought it was a healthier out look on being in a relationship. All along It was just as unhealthy as all the rest but this time the toxicity was at a disastrous level. I didn’t see it until I was honest with myself and how truly unhappy I was.

I was settling. I was throwing in the towel and at 43 I was accepting something I told myself was what was best for me at the time. In reality I don’t know how I feel about being in an open relationship or marriage. I am unsure if is even possible for a human being to be truly faithful. I don’t believe that a man is truly capable of being with one women for the duration of his life. There is seven billion people on this planet. I will never be the only person that he will be attracted to in his life time. I know that ideology is a flawed way to think to some but it is my reality.  I have yet to not be cheated on somewhere in the relationship. No matter if I was the ideal women who cooked, cleaned and took great care of the home. It didn’t matter if I was a beast in the bed, a great faithful women and mother. It didn’t matter if I didn’t nag, argue or be annoying. I still got cheated on with a women who didn’t compare to the good women that I was. The thought of that broke me even more.

To feel like I was more than enough for a man and to only be rejected for a women that was less than me made me fell less than enough. At the same time while I was in an open relationship I found that I didn’t actually like knowing that he was sleeping with someone else either. It opened up a new can of worms that I wasn’t ready for. Wow, why would you still need more than me when I am a hand full as it is? What does the other women have that I am missing? All of a sudden I started looking for the missing pieces myself. I started feeling a different type of “ not Enough” . As a women how do I really feel that someone else is enjoying my man and sending him back home to me when she is done? At one time it was sexy to hear him say “ there is no one like you Kidada”  “I will always come home to you” he would say.

After while I found that line became disrespectful and hurtful. Now I feel like I was accepting something most women would wouldn’t. After my feelings came into play I noticed that I started to feel jealous inside. I thought it would be easier for a man to be truthful in an open relationship but I found out that is far from the truth, His started to feel like he could no longer tell me because he liked me and he didn’t want to hurt my feelings. I found out that he slept with someone and didn’t tell me and lied about it when he clearly didn’t have to. That hurt me more than him actually sleeping with her. I lost trust in him and it went to hell from there. I became the women that I dread. We started fighting more and eventually we got into are first physical altercation and it has never been the same since.

So Here I sit at 43 remembering why I hated fairy tales as a kid because they are made up feel good stories. Everyones is not going to end up like Snow white or Cinderella. Everyone is not going to find their prince in their life time. I understand that no relationship comes without challenges, problems and pain. I have the idea in the very back of my head that I still want to get married. The thing about that is I feel like I want the experience of the world wind romance. I want to share with the world my engagement story and engagement ring. I want to finally feel like I am worth a mans last name. That out of all the women he could have chosen that he chose me. I want to feel special, loved and adored by one special man.

I want to experience trying on wedding dresses and finally picking my favorite Vera Wang dress tailor made to fit my juicy curves. I want to plan the wedding and find the wedding venue of my dream. I want to find the best Jamaican Restaurant to cater my food from. I want to taste sample cakes after sample cakes until I discover my favorite combination and style of cake. I want to experience having an unbelievable time at my bachelorett party. I want to experience walking down the isle while he is looking at me with tears in his eyes because he can’t believe he is marrying me. I want to say our vows and kiss and say I do. I want to experience the unforgettable honeymoon of a life time with endless night of forbidden sex and unlimited nights of cuddling.

That’s what I am afraid of the most. I am afraid that is all I want to do is experience it just to say that I did it. There are so many things I have not experienced in life yet like attending a wedding, buying my first car, going to a funeral or attending a family reunion. So I wonder if that is the extent of it for me? I don’t want to place my life, heart and soul into another human beings hands at this point. I don’t want to be fully vulnerable and open to another human being that can turn around and crush my very soul with the information I entrusted him. I don’t want to place my undying trust and faith into another human being that can be lost the drop of a dime. Who knows what opportunity may arise that may tempt my husband to stray from his martial bed. Not because he loves her but because he is sexually attracted to another soul. He might not mean to hurt me but his actions defiantly will kill me and shatter my heart. I have been broken from men from day one starting my father. I am 43 now and I am tried of kissing a bunch of frogs and them turning into wart hogs instead of Prince’s. I am tired of my heart getting broken repeatedly time after time. I am tired of giving all and everything to people who are not willing to do the same to me.

I am tired of my loyalty keeping me in situations long after I should have left them. I am tired of being understanding, caring and loving only to not to be viewed worthy enough to receive it back in return. I am tired of not being cherished, protected and thought of like I do to others. The bottom line is I am scared at this point to fall in love. I am afraid to give away the only part of me that I have left to spare. The only part of me that is pure and has the best interest of others. The part of me that with stood the test of time and who has weather all the storms that life has brought my way.I don’t know why my heart still chases after love and still beat with intensity with the thought of being in love and loving someone else. I know that there is not another heart break left in me. The next time it is broken I believe that it will shatter into a thousand unfix-able pieces. I don’t think I am willing to place my heart in that position again. I am 43 and the years are accumulating at a rapid speed. I don’t want to grow old alone but at the same time I don’t want to be with someone because of that reason too. I want to be with someone because my heart sings a melody only they can hear. So there you have it. I was doomed from the start. I never saw any one love my father or watch him love another soul in front of me. All I have ever experience was dysfunctional and toxic relationships all my life.I thought that was what love looked like.

I have never been in love before and I am afraid  that I never will either. Either it’s not in my life cards or I am not worthy enough to be loved unconditionally by anyone but my kids.I don’t want to believe that to be true but at this point I have tried and failed at this thing called love. No matter how you slice it I secretly want it but the realist in me doesn’t believe that love is forever. I believe that love last as long as it id destined to until it no longer lives there any more. I don’t believe human beings have the capability to be loyal or faithful. I don’t believe that love hurts. I believe people hurt people that they love. So where do I go from here is unknown to me. I am open to love but I am always going to be mistrusting of what people will do to me in the guise of love. I wish that my formative years would have been better but that is water under the bridge now. All I can do is wait until true love finds me and hopefully when it does I will be ready with open arms willing to accept it and not sabotage it out of fear of being hurt all over again.


What is the definition of a Mother?

Definition of mother 

What is a mother? According to Websters dictionary a mother is a (transitive verb) 1 a: to give birth to b: to give raise to PRODUCE 2: to care for or protect like a mother. Welp; at least one out of three is something I guess. I am so conflicted about this day as a daughter but not as a mother. While my mother gave birth to me; she didn’t raise or protect me growing up and are relationship was strain up until the year before she die. As I sit here relishing and basking in the glory of being a mom and not the day. I can’t help but wonder why my mom didn’t have the same sentiment as I do. There is always something so special when I hear my children call me ” Mom, mommy or mama”. I am always filled with joy and endearment instantly . They are not a burden but a joy to raise; no matter how hard it is as a single parent.

This is the first year that my son was able to buy me my first Mothers day present and oh how he did it big ! lol. He was so excited to spend all his hard on money on me. He couldn’t wait until Mother’s day to give it to me so I opened it up two days before. I open the bag to only reveal a laptop meant for my writing. Microsoft word, a dozen beautiful yellow roses and 4 bottles of my favorite favorite perfume too.My birthday is on the 20th so he combined the gifts. I sat there feeling so appreciated and well loved. Not by the gift he purchased but by the mere thought. The fact that he thought highly enough of me to spend his hard earned money all on me at eighteen.

I have been a single mother for the past eighteen years and this was the very first mothers day gift I received from anyone. When they were younger I got the school hand print poems and pictures but not an actually gift of appreciation from their father or my parents. I remember crying every year. This is the first year that I cried tears of joy. I finally felt acknowledged for all the hard work, effort, sacrifice and more by someone or someones. What is so conflicting to me is on the heel of the day I didn’t even think about the fact that my mom was dead. I didn’t cry that I had no mother to appreciate and adorn with beautiful gifts like my son did for me. I felt bad that not once did I reflect on the relationship we had because we didn’t have one in all honesty.

I recall thinking to myself four days before to make sure that I would remember her on her day. After all I was birth through her womb and not mine. I also told myself that it is okay to cry if I needed to but nope that was a no go!! I virtually forgot to think about her unless I forced myself too. See my mother left my abusive father and took us with her to California. Without going in to great detail ( because I never get the true version of the story) She sent myself and my sister back to my abusive father while she moved on with a new man , a new life and with my step brother. Along the way she gave him up to the state as well. I don’t know the details to that back story either but nevertheless she was a free women without the burden of children tied to her hips.

What is crazy as I think back now is; I never questioned my father where she was or did I even have a mom. My mind has been protecting me since I can remember ( At least I think it does) . However; one fine day My father decided that it was high time I meet the women that birthed me. Before that I thought I was fine without knowing her but my body was growing at the speed of lighting and mature body for the age of ten was to much for my father to bare. He said that it was time I meet my mother and that little girls needed their moms at this tender age. As a mother of a beautiful daughter I can understand why he felt that way but the way that he introduced her to me was vile and unacceptable if you ask me.

One day he passed me the rotatory phone receiver and gently said ” Here speak to your mother ” Crystal” . I was like; ” Who is that”? When I reached for the receiver I heard a clear strong voice on the other end and she said ” Hi My name is Crystal King; I am your mother. I can’t recall all of the conversation or how I felt exactly but I do remember how she hyped up California , going to Wild adventures and Disney World instead of explaining who she was, where she had been all my life, why is she here now and what was the plan for us. As the call ended I was more excited by the aspect of traveling, seeing Wild Adventures and Disney World but not her. She had my sold on the fun but not sold me on how she was. I was still left unsure of the strong voice behind the phone but I was excited nevertheless.

I guess as parents they discussed the the ends and out of my sister and I meeting her for the first time. I was made aware on labor day school break we would fly alone and land at LAX airport in California for a weekend. Now; mind you; I never met this women in my life. I never thought about how much clothes he sent us with until I landed there and I found out the reason why. All I could think about was the last words my father said to me before we got on the plane. ” Punch that bitch in the face and oh yeah; she looks just like you” he said and I never understood the anger or bass behind his voice until now. He was mad at my mother for leaving us and for him struggling raising two kids on his own. Just like I am doing now. As I got off the plane I started to look for the women that looked just like me but that was hard because I never really looked at myself in that way.

She found me and my sister and greeted us with a strange man named Richard King .Which was her current Husband. She smiled and and the first thing she said to me was ” Hi Kidada; I am your mom “Crystal” and this is my husband Richard King”. She went on to say ” I’ve known him longer than you and if I have to choose between him and you ; you will be the first to leave”. Oh punching her in the face never sounded so good after she said that. As we exited the airport She lighten up and started talking causally about the Palm trees and the beauty of California. As we got closer to our destination she dropped the real bomb on us. You are living here now she said as she turned and looked me in the eyes in the back seat. Then she said You can no longer call your father unless I tell you you can. Oh my God I cried instantly.

She ordered me to call her ” mommy dearest” . Not until I saw that movie did I get the reference. To make a long story short I didn’t live with her more than three years max. In between her kicking me out on the street, placing me in a foster home or two and finally in the end i became the ward of the state of Florida Just like my step Bother. We never got a chance to learn each other, bond or establish a good mother and daughter relationship before I headed back to Boston with my dad . My sister wound up staying with her after I left. The next time I had contact with her I was a twenty – six year old pregnant adult. I was carrying my first child. I remember constipating calling her to tell her the news. Plus I wanted and need her during this big event in my life. However I was not met with a warm reception on the other in of the phone. She told me I should have an abortion and that ” Now you are another black statistic” she said. Another black women without a father. I hung up the phone and started crying.

I felt so betrayed and belittled. Just because that is what she choose to do ; didn’t mean I would follow suit. The next time I talked to her again I was in my thirties so she could meet the child she told me to abort. The crazy shit is I cried my ass off when I got off the bus when I saw her. I cried like a baby. I just needed her in my life so bad.That trip was amazing . I didn’t see her for ten more years after that until my son was eleven years old and she came here to my home town on my turf. The moment she got disrespectful, I left her in the motel and never looked back. In between the next few years we corresponded via Email. I was happy with loving her from a distant at this point because that is how she made it. Towards the end of her life three years ago we were starting to talk more. The crazy thing is one year she brought me a gift on my Birthday and a beautiful bracelet before that. She was not one to do that. I remember saying ” She may be dying or something is horribly wrong because I was not use to her kindness and two months later she was dead.

I remember something she always said. ” Some women are meant to be mothers and others are not; and I am not one of them” she said. Wow, just wow I remember thinking. What a thing to say to your baby daughter. Out of all four of her kids she took care of the last child she had from Richard King her Husband. I believe that she was older now and she really loved his dad; so raising him was a wanted and a delightful experience for both of them. I can’t say that I ever was jealous but I felt slighted for sure. However, I was glad someone got a chance to get know the beautiful soul that she truly was. The first two years after she died; Mothers day brought tears to my eyes. not for the reason that you think but because I never got a chance to know and love the women that carried me in her womb for 9 month . I cried for all the hugs and forehead kisses I never received. I cried about not having established a relationship with her. I cried because she never touched me in an endearing manner, told me she loved me growing up or made me feel loved either.

I cried over all the moments we missed, all the conversations we never had and I miss that fact that I never laid on her lap and felt her hands in my hair . I cried over everything I missed and never will get a chance to try again because of her present death status. As a mom I promised that I would never be a mom like her. She did the best she could with what she had and I was and still am no longer upset with her. I am now a new improved version of my mother. I tell my kids I loved them every chance I get. I stroke their hair and tell them I am proud of them. I am very connected with my kids emotionally, physically and mentally. I talk to my children like little people from day one and I still do. I make sure to be a very involved parent with not one but two of my beautiful souls. I created an amazing bond with both kids. I love passing down my knowledge in a certain area down to my daughter like skin care, hair care , make up tips , tips on boys, school, self esteem issue and more. I love doing her hair, listening to her stories, music and more . I love her like no other and I love him like no other too!

Why was I not in a position to be loved by my mother in the way that I love my two beloveds. Why was I so miss treated, ill treated and discarded like trash by my mother? All I wanted was to be love, protected, cared for, given forehead kisses and told how blessed SHE is to be MY mommy like I tell my kids daily! I missed out on something that should have been as natural as breathing but that was not the hand that life deal me. So on this mothers day I acknowledge that I have a very beautiful mother who was a kind and loving to many including my brother. She touched many lives even if she didn’t make a dent in mine. I know that she loved me in her own way. I know that she was not a bad person . She just didn’t want to be a mother at the point that she had me. Such is life. So when other people are all choked up and full of tears about losing their mother; I am not. When this day rolls around I find another new reason to love the women I called ” Mother dearest” in private; that never loved me openly or at least expressed it openly to me . I have no hate in my heart for her. I just wish I was a priority in her life and not merely an option.

I Wonder What my Neighbors Think When They Look at My House at Night.

Yup; I am up again and all of my lights are on in the house. The kitchen lights, hall lights and my bedroom lights are all on. The lights are illuminating my house like an angels halo around her beautiful head. They have been on since two am. There is Pop music playing, clothes washing, cats roaming around and as for myself I am sitting at the computer writing again. I wonder what the neighbors must think when they look at my house? I wonder if I am a topic of discussion when they are out there exchanging pleasantries with each other. They must wonder what is going on in there or if I sleep at all. It might pass their minds that I must be scared of the dark or some other logical reason; why my lights are on all night long and off all day long. If they only knew that what they were looking at was actually a real representation of my Bipolar mind at work. I am not scare of the dark just very weary of it. ( I have a love hate relationship with the dark too so don’t get it wrong) but at the same time I tend to come alive in the wee hours of the morning. That’s when my soul seems to catch on fire🔥 and my creative juices start to flow at this hour of the night too. This is the time I love to cook, clean and write too. I wish they knew that the lights they are looking at with curious wonder is how my mind feels and looks like to me on the inside. Monday was a dark day for me. Everything that could go wrong went wrong. It was the day that they buried my cousin. The day the landlord gave me grief about a mistake they made with my money. The day that my favorite cat in the world got hit by a car and got seriously wounded. It was a tough day for my beast boy (my son) who came home from work after a sixteen hour shift feeling down trotted and low. The look on his face when he said “There is always something going on or going wrong.” as he turned around seeing doubles. Which in turns worried me of course. He is right as a single parent there is something always going on or wrong in this house or with us. We just want to have a sense of normality and peace for a while . We would love to have just one problem free week; sprinkled with”a little happiness and some peace on top. Do you know how grateful we would be? You have no idea at all!

My son’s girlfriend text me last night with a snap shot of a conversation that she just had with my son.. My son told her that it wasn’t a good time to talk to him. (He is Bipolar too; mind you and he is an a rapid cycling mode right now.) So he is flowing between being happy, depressed and angry all at once and all his triggers are being hit at the same time too. He goes on to tell her ” I hates that everyone else has an easier life than me” and how others would not understand how hard his life really is. He just wanted to be ” left the fuck alone” he said. Now I know that was not a great way to express himself but my kid is brutally honest and he has always been that way since he was a toddler. I was never the type of parent to force feed him niceties and lies like ” Santa, Tooth fairies or anything else that was a false tale that we parents like to systematically stuff down our kids throats. As a single parent he needed to understand it was my hard work that kept the lights on, food in the refrigerator, clothes on his back and toys under the Christmas tree. So when she showed me the exchange that they had; I told her not to take it personal. She replied ” Yes I will take it personally” She has every right to feel that way. After all she felt disrespected and I get it. However, she is able to say all that while she is away enjoying her spring break and having fun while my son is here at home working his spring break away. She is New Orleans on vacation having a blast with her mothers while my son is here on his spring break working two job every day. I don’t see my son most days. I see him before he leave and again at one in the morning when he get’s off of work. Spring break is just that . A Break for the kids to relax and unwind from school. This is not a choice for my son. He is usually up by three am to eat breakfast, shower and to prepare for the gym. ( he does this on school days as well) My car is still down so he starts walking at five in the morning to get there by six thirty. As a black male in this violate climate it makes me scared for him to walk that early in the morning alone because it is so dark outside at this time of the morning This is the cool part of. Having Bipolar. I am already up so I talk to him on the phone until he gets there safe. After working out he continues his journey and starts the trek to work. He walk another hour and a half or better to get to work and then my baby is lost in work until almost twelve am . Not to mention on the day’s that he gets of at seven he walks back to the gym, works out and walks back home in the dark arriving at home after eleven pm.

She has no clue how my child feels because her life is fluffy , cushy and supplied with two parent to help her with anything she needs times two. He has so much on his mind besides work. He worries about himself growing into a man. He worries about myself and my daughter. He worries about finishing high school and all that in tales. She was gifted a car at sixteen but he will never experience that kind of kindness from me because I can’t even afford to pay for the repairs on my car let alone buy a new one. How can people begin to understand how he feels if they are not walking his shoes. If you couple that in with my Bipolar daughter going through her depression, her worrying about finishing up eighth grade strong, her failing math and her inability to sleep it feels like a house flashing it’s lights on and off with raw emotions. My son and I have Bipolar one and my daughter has Bipolar two disorder. This house is either alive like a live wire with laughter, loud music and fun when we all are experiencing mania or it’s all doom and gloom and full of tears when we all are down or one of us are down. We all feed off of each others energy. If either one of us is sad we all feel it and process it in different ways. However as a parent I don’t feel like I can place my mental health in the forefront when both of my kids are raging with emotions. I place my emotions to the side and only pick them back up when I have a chance to be alone or when they are off to school or work. It makes it easier for me when one kid is home at a time to be honest. I can breathe easier help one child at a time.

On any given day I am running in between two room consoling, talking, motivating holding , listen and give my advice to each child. I want you to imagine going into the room of one child who is experiencing mania. The music is playing loudly, he is playing his game and all the lights are on in his room. He is dancing, talking rapidly and without pause. He is excited, loud and full of zest at 3 am. If I am on the same wave length it is so fun to me but if I am depressed it to much for me and I am in sensory overload. After talking to him I go into her dark room with the melancholy music softly floating out of her head phones. You can hear faint sounds of crying in the air. As I go to turn on the light she squeaks “leave it off” My son is an Extrovert and he is one to talk to me freely about his problems unless he feels like I am dealing with to much at the time; he will then keep it to himself. My daughter is an introvert and keeps all her problems hidden from me like a pirate who hides his booty or treasure chest from others. She is difficult when she is like this. She’s doesn’t respond well to touch, sound or advice. Yet; she is also the child I have to lay in the bed with and hold until she goes to sleep ( if she lets me or ask me to) or I stay in the her room and read or write until she falls asleep. Just having me next to her works wonders for her too. When she get’s that depressed I seek out her therapist and she comes and does house calls for her. I have resigned the feeling of feeling bad that she can’t be open with me and I honor the fact that she can at least be honest with her feeling with her at this point. As long as she is getting it out. She is the child I worry differently about because her depression has made her attempt to commit suicide at the age of twelve. Between you and me this reaks havoc on my mental state of mind; always having to go in between two extremes so often. Not to mention that I have my own set of mental issues going on with myself as well.

No one knows what it takes to be a single parent unless they are one themselves. You can know someone who is one too but that doesn’t mean shit to me because knowing and doing are two different entities in themselves . If you ask me that is. There is always something going on, going wrong or something to do. There is never a dull moment. So; for his girlfriend who has a cushy life to try to understand what he is going through is futile to me. Let me try to give you a little visual if you would. Last week while I was cooking I smelled the weirdest smell coming from my stove. I thought it was something burning like my food. I checked inside the stove to see if it was my food or if something fell to the bottom of the stove. When I checked nothing was there. So I turned it down and walked away. Within an hour my whole house was covered in thick black smoke and smoke was bellowing from the stove like smoke rising up and out of my chimney. I opened all of the windows and aired out the house. The next day the stove stopped working all together. When I called my landlord on that Friday she told me she couldn’t send anyone out to fix it until Monday. ” Just use your microwave to feed your kids” she said in a sarcastic tone. Now; everything in my house needed to be cooked. We had no choice but to spent the whole weekend eating cold canned beans and corn. She didn’t fix it until that following Tuesday evening. When they fixed it they noticed the cord to the stove completely melted into a ball of plastic. It shorted the stove and broke the element inside the stove too. Thank heavens it didn’t start a wall fire ( I heard the maintenance man say) . See; we had food to cook but nothing to cook the food on. Consequently are car has been down for four months now because I am unable to pay for the repairs. There is no extra money for that at the moment. So either we walk every where or we have to ask for a ride. My daughter has an acute eye condition which involves her using Steroids for her eyes. Her eyes where swollen shut because she didn’t have her medication. I could not get to the pharmacy in the pass two weeks because I did not have away and no one would take us. When I finally secured a ride; I had to give the person my last ten dollars to take me there to go get her much needed medication.

On Monday, My landlord calls me and she has a list of issues with me. One of the issues was that my rent was behind. I could not understand why. She then precedes to tell me that she sent my last months check back to me in mail because I was one dollar short and she she wasn’t going to apply that to my rent. ( What the hell)? I was confused better yet I never received my check in the mail either. So where is it and why don’t I have it and why was it not applied to my rent? How come you are threatening to evicted me over not paying my rent? Yet; I did it; but it was not applied to my rent balance because it was a dollar short. Where does that happen at? Next my son does his taxes and claims my daughter for earned child income credit. They are withholding $5000 dollars of his money because he has to prove to the state that his sister truly is his sister. Now we have to send in mega paper work to authenticate that she really is his sister. Next , I get a call from The Child support office inquiring the where about of the kids father. I have already told them he moved out of the state of Florida. I don’t know where he works and I have no information regarding him. This man owe me $35, 456.00 in back child support and we have not received any money since last year. Why are you asking me anything about him in the first place and why am I doing your job to locate him when that is your job. I open the mail to see that my car insurance is going to be cut off on a car that is not running. Why do I have to pay insurance on a car that is not operable is besides me but if I do not they can suspend my licence. Just like they did five months ago and I had to pay $200.00 dollars to get it back. Now if it gets suspended this time around it will suspended for five years. Last but not least I am all out of my Asthma medication and my blood clot medications too. I am have the hardest time breathing as I write this and my blood clot medication is essential to my well being.I have a factor five condition which means that blood clots form on their own without prompting and without warning. So I have to take this medication for the rest of my life in order to stop that from happening. At this point;I am not able to afford any of my medication for the last three month now.

I am in the middle of my own battle field of sorts. This is my own personal hell for me. No one will understand how it is for myself and my kids daily. I know that other people may have it worst than us but this is in my backyard and this is all that I can see for miles around. If we are not trying to make sure that we have food to eat, we are trying make sure the lights are on. It we are not worried about the light we are worried about transportation issues. If not that; then we are challenged with this landlord and their nasty treatment. Not to mention how I am treated, looked down upon, treated unfairly and disrespectfully too because of my race, educational level and my economic status as well. Omg, I hate how people talk down to me with no respect because they think I am a crazy, financially challenged women with no college level education. If I was in a higher tax bracket, secured a couple of degrees under my belt and was married I am sure they would talk to me differently . I absolutely hate being financially challenged. I hate feeling misunderstood, mistreated and looked down upon by people who are more affluent than me or people that have my well being or stability in the palm of their hands. There is so much going on inside my home that other people are unaware of. As a family we do not complain if the food is low, If the light are off or if we all have to walk three hours to and from Walmart to go grocery shopping. ( we have made this trip in 90 degree weather, pouring rain and cold weather on many occasions) As a family we deal with are problems together and not outside in front of others. There is no one to call on either side of the family so we manage the best way we can. We are grateful when we can eat, sleep in cool air,have a roof over are heads, have heat when needed and to be able to drive our car when it’s working. We have learned to love the little things in life and respect every penny that we earn in this house. We do not complain about what we don’t have and we cherish and respect the things that we do have. We are grateful for every single thing we have as a whole.

So when the neighbors see the lights on it doesn’t matter to me what they think. They are free to think anything they wish. Only if they knew that I wish that I could turn of the light in my head at night. I wish that I could easily and effortlessly go to sleep like them. I wish that my mind at times was like theirs and I was able to wind down by ten pm and shut off all the light in the house like them. If they only knew; half the time I am up worrying about bills, food, money, my kids mental health issue and more. I wish I could be like normal people in normal households doing normal things but that’s not what life had in store for myself or my kids. Only if his girlfriend knew how hard it really was for my son she would let up on him . She couldn’t understand how we manage on the days we have no toilet paper, I have no tampons or we have no food for days on end because I had to pay the bills first. I wish that I had it easier but I don’t so I make the best out of what I have while I have it. My life has toughen me up and made me a very humble and grateful person. It has made me fight for everything I have even if it’s not much to others. It has made me stronger, resilient and wise. It has made me have to stand up to bullies that are stronger than me. For every ” No” that life or people have said me I’ve had to find a “Yes’. So the next time you see a neighbors light on don’t assume the worst. Actually don’t assume anything at all. You never know what is going on behind closed doors of anyone house. So to my dear neighbors; now you know the reason why my lights are always on. So when you see them on this morning again at the same time; don’t ask why just turn off your lights and try to get some shut eye for me and you both. I probably will need your energy tomorrow to get me through my day.

What Death Has Taught Me.

Yesterday my beloved cousin was laid to rest. He died to early before he could make a major impact on the world. A beautiful gentle soul that towered over everyone at six foot seven inches. He was a gentle giant of sorts. Waging war on the world with a kind spirit and a compassionate sword. He was handsome, educated, well loved, charismatic,caring and far to kind. He had a great basketball career in college. My cousin Kendrick was a star basketball player who earned a scholarship to the University of Michigan then returned home to Boston to help other youth like himself in Dorchester where I grew up. He was widely known for the nonprofit organization he founded and ran, Big Business Network, which taught inner-city youngsters the basics of basketball and business. He graduated from Buckingham Browne & Nichols School in Cambridge and played basketball on a Big Ten scholarship while managing to also earn his bachelor’s degree in just three years. He went on to become a financial analyst. his year, Price started a job at Cristo Rey Boston High School where he was an account manager in the school’s corporate work study program, which gives students work experience. He started that job fewer than two weeks before he was killed.He was also a basketball coach at Brooke High School charter school.

My cousin wasn’t a saint . No one clearly is. He was so perfectly imperfect just like all of us are. It is not my position to talk ill about the dead nor is it cool to me to talk about the demons he carried. I will stick to speaking about the beautiful soul he was while he was here for the short time that he was. My cousin got shot and murdered last weekend on the very street we grew up on together. A couple of house down from were he called home. I can’t imagine what my auntie is going through right now but I imagine is is unconscionable and unfathomable. Not only is her stellar baby boy dead. He died on the same street he grew up on. Every time she walks outside she will have a constant reminder of his death, She will forever have nightmares of seeing his motionless body lying there dead in the snow as the white snow turned crimson red from the blood that was seeping out of his head. I too have a stellar young man. who works two jobs, goes to school, helps his community and who is brave, kind caring and compassionate to his fellow man. My heart breaks every time he walks out my door. I dare not to imagine how it would feel to never see him walk back in my door again. This is were it get hairy for me as a human being. I was told another one of my cousins was there at the time of the shooting. This cousin is not what you call a stand up kind of guy. He has an extensive criminal history. He is much like a street kind of person that was frown down upon by my family secretly because of his actions. No, he never completed High school or entered into college. He never got a athletic scholarship to go to a great college like my cousin did. He never started up a business, helped the community or did anything remotely positive as my cousin did. He was simply known for his temper, criminal back ground, narcotic selling and having a lot of kids.

These are to different human beings that choose two different life paths but they alone merged as one. They loved each other. They didn’t see anything different in between them but love and blood. They were thick as thieves and everyone knew they were inseparable. Two peas in a pod the like untouchable. They didn’t see the difference between them like the world saw. That is where I think true love lies. They loved each other heart and soul and not for what degrees they had, what their economic status was or who had a criminal history or lack there of. After the death of my cousin the pressure cooker exploded and the shrapnel sent daggers of ice picks through the heart of my family members. They all of a sudden became divided at a time when they should have came together in unison .The blame game began fast and furious resembling a high speed train. I tried to call and give my condolence and the only person that spoke to me was my grandmother. So I left my number so other family members could call me but one week later and a day after he was laid to rest; I still have yet to receive a call. The funky thing about that was I was the last to hear that he past away. I learned of his passing on Facebook from my cousin Tina who said : you clearly must not know what’s gong on”. Man, that hurt my heart something terrible. Once again The black sheep is not included in something as important as a death in the family. Moving on; as I read the news, watched the videos and kept up with everything online( Because no one was keeping me abreast of anything) the wind begins to swirl and the movement in my family began drastically change. They beyond livid that he past away more and more as it settled in. I could read it on my Facebook. The lines on my feed read: “He was such a good person” ” He was a gentle Giant” ” He was going to make a difference and change the world” Then came the whammy of questions. “Why did it have to happen to him”? Became the question on everyone’s lips. Then the swirl of wind became a hurricane of sorts. My Auntie and other family members I believe were speaking out of grief ( I hope) When They told my cousin who was there that night that it should have been him and his wife that should have took the bullets. In Layamon’s terms ; They told him they wished he had died instead of my cousin Omg, beloveds, When the news got back to me in Florida that this was said. I was baffled, bewildered, heart broken and frankly appalled .

Who in there right mind would say that to another human being. Grief should not be an excuse to me but I don’t really know. They were inseparable. They loved each other. They were like best friends. What would he have thought if he heard his mother say such a thing? My cousin that lived is forever torn up and tore apart from witnessing the act first hand. He was there. He saw the blood . He watched him died in front of his eyes. He already felt remorseful, anger and like it’s his fault for being there at the party with him. It is him who will wake up from cold sweats from a reoccurring never ending nightmare. He will have PTSD and flash backs of that eventful and tragic night because before that they were having a great time until that happen. Damn, wasn’t that a lasting pain enough for him to carry the rest of is life? I guess not. As he walked into the Funeral home looking for a seat My Auntie went full throttle ballistic. As her words of anger and hate began to spew like venom from her once sweet and innocent mouth everything change. She saw my cousin and rage filled her eyes and she called the cops to escort him out of there. She made a big spectacle. Maybe she had the right to after all that was her only baby son. Maybe she had the right to because the pain was too much to bear. Maybe she started to believe her own words that she heard in her head over and over again. It’s should not have been my son! It should have been you! He left hurt, embarrassed, ashamed and left unable to say his final good byes . While at the same time she placed a nail in the coffin of another family member who is essential dead in her eyes now. Not only is one of my cousins physically dead another cousin who loved him too in life is mentally dead to her and the other family member who feel the same way as she does.

Death to me has been such an interesting teacher to me. I never got my first brush with death until I was in my forties when my mother passed away suddenly and then again eighteen month later when my father died. Both of those were experiences that left me breathless and bewildered. I remember vividly when I got the call that my mother was in the hospital. I was at home with my children. I was preparing for my son’s championship football game. My estranged sister to whom I do not talk to at all called me and told me what was going on. When she called she said ” mom is not doing good” ” Would you like to speak to her”? When I replied yes she said ” Oh she is in a coma ” What the hell? Then why ask me if I wanted to speak to her” I was lost. She said she would call me with any News. The day of the game while my son is running down the field trying to tackle the opposing team player. My phone starts to ring. I answer it nervously and I got the call I knew was coming ” She’s dead” .Omg. I was still. I couldn’t move,breath or cry. I was screaming inside but screaming outside at my kid as he made the tackles of all tackles. I had to keep a brave face. Show no sadness. Act like I never received that call. I stayed that way until I got home. That’s when all the calls started flooding my phone. Call after call from people I never met before, from my siblings who have never met my kids or talk to me in decades. From aunties and uncles, cousins, nieces and nephews. They all came out of the wood work. I took these calls As I took the similar calls I received when my dad died eighteen months later. The thing that got me in both situations was that They both died at a time that I was unable to move quickly . As single parent I need time to make arrangements for both of my kids. When my dad died. He died on the kids first day of school so I was unable leave just like that. When I asked the father and his family to watched them so I could leave they denied my request. So;to make along story short I was not able to be present to lay my parents to rest.

I missed the opportunity to say my final good byes. No asked to help me get there or offer me away to get there knowing me situation. I am the underdog, the sheep and the out cast in my family just like my cousin I was talking about. I am the one that had babies out of wed locking . The sister that didn’t finish college like my older sister. I am the one that made poor life choices when I was younger and the same one who will be made to relive them time and time again. I will never live down my youthful mistakes in their eyes. So when my parents died the well to do sibling took over every aspect of their funeral details. I was not included. They made all of the arrangements, invited all the guest and secured all the churches and banquet hall without me in mind. They held the Viewing, funerals and repasses without me. I was not mailed an obituary or anything that regarded my parents. I do not know where they scattered half of my mothers ashes nor was I special enough to get a locket with some of her ashes like the rest of my sibling. I do not know where my dad is laid to rest or what cemetery or plot number he is in because I was the bad sister. That felt so horrible to know that the two people who brought me into this world were dead now and I never had a chance to say good bye. They were not the best parent to me by along shot but that is for another blog time. The craziest part of it all was after they died.

All of a sudden people wanted to start telling me personal information about my parents. Things that clearly wasn’t my business. Who did what, when they did what and with who. Who did illegal drugs, who slept around and the real reason why my mom left me behind as a toddler. The man my mom left my dad for, who he was and how much younger her was then her. ( I mean who really cares)? Not me!! They where talking so bad about them that I had to say” Hold up not my fight, not my business” they continued to poke an prod. Ask me what I knew and If I new this or that? Then came the money issues. Who had life insurance and how much. Who get’s it and who doesn’t. My mother didn’t raise me my father did. I met my mother when I was ten or eleven. Out of all four kids she had;she only raised one and that was my baby brother. Who mind you I’ve only met three times in my life. He was emotionally zoned out. He was all she knew and all he had. She did everything for him up until she passed. When she passed away she left him behind like a little stray puppy. He didn’t know how to cook, clean, drive pay bills nothing. It was really sad to me. All I could do was reach out to him. In the mist of all the craziness there he sat like a lost puppy. This one want to sue the hospital for this. This one was fighting over that. It was a free for all party of pure Bull shit. In the end The calls slowly started to recede. The stories started to dissipate and the calls stopped all together. No longer did I here from my two older sisters again. No longer did I hear from my older brother again. There went the calls from all the people I never met in my life. It went back to normal. Are dysfunctional normal. All that was left was all the damn stories about my parent that I sure they never wanted me to hear. I was once again back where I belong in the ” no lane ” zone. I was not fit to call or check on. There was no more interest in my children’ well being. I was back where I started before they died. In Tallahassee, Florida living alone with my two kids with no outside help, family support from my side or the fathers side. Left hanging like the last ornament on the Christmas tree that they forgot was there and tossed out with the Christmas tree on the side of the curb.

For a brief moment. Yes I felt connected and loved. Just for a second I thought that someone actually cared about me and my family. Just for a second I anticipated the calls from unfamiliar voices. Just for a flash I felt like I finally belonged. That I was finally acceptable to them. Acceptable enough to get a call at least and a ” I Love” you at the end of the call. I hung on to my sister’s voice because I knew once he was in the ground I would no longer hear from her. I wanted to believe in magic, in miracles and rainbows. Then I stood up and shook that shit off as soon as it came is as soon as I let it go. I have a great gift of shifting my pain and hurt in to file cabinets inside my mind and I don’t return to them unless I need to. Thank god for that. I am sad that I was not there to lay them to rest.I am sad I do not know where my fathers body rest. I am sad to even think that not one person has even told me but such is the life is the life I lead as the outsider that can never fit in or get in. This whole thing with my cousin struck a nerve because we are so much alike but different. We choose different paths in life that was frown upon by are family members. While he choose a life of drug dealing and crime. I choose to be an unwed mother at 26 with no degree under my belt. Yes I was the whimsical child. The hard headed child, the rebellious child but I was also the molested child. Physically, emotionally and verbally abused child too. I acted out for reasons. I was a child and that is what children do when they are faced with adversity so young that they don’t know how to process it or how to handle. In the end I clearly made some bad choices in my life as a young adult that had nothing to do with my family.

Nevertheless me and my cousin are both human beings. we deserved to be loved and feel love. We deserve to feel like we are apart of are family. We deserved to feel like we belong. There was no need to keep my cousin from saying his final good byes to my dearly beloved cousin . Damn he loved him just as much as I did. Maybe even more. It’s not fair to say who’s life is more valuable than the other. No one should ever say to someone” It should have been you that died instead of my son.” or ” His life has more meaning then yours because you choose the street life and he didn’t” That is insensitive to say and even more horrible to say out loud to another soul. I am sorry that I am the wayward sibling to my family members but I deserved to lay my parents to rest . I deserved to say my good byes even if you didn’t think I was not worthy or educated enough to say it. We are all human beings, Doing the best that we can on this road called life. No one is perfect and no one is going ever be! Life doesn’t come with a set of instructions. It is a learn as we go type venture. No matter how someone feels about a person in their family it should never override Death when he knocks on your door. I wish that family members acted more like family members instead of like a Mob family. Where they off each other once they are no longer useful or deemed important to the families dynamics anymore. My poor cousin will forever remember the night he lost my cousin. He will forever have those images in his head. He will forever hear those hateful word rambling in his subconscious ” It should have been you that died that night instead of my son”. He will forever remember walking into the church to say his good byes and the cops stopped him short and escorted him out. What will become of him now that he is essential mentally dead to certain family member? Who will he become now ? How will he view his worth and will he too wish it was him that died that night?

My love Hate Relationship with the Dark.

Why is it that I am so drawn to the the dark, the unknown the early morning hours? There is something so secretive, seductive, alluring and calming to me as the day nears an end and all the normal people are preparing to going to bed. Nope, Not me. Like clock work my body rises from the dead at eight pm every night. The night time is my morning. The moon is my sun. I thrive in the dark. I go Unseen, unheard and not bothered by every day daily pressures of my life. There is something that turns on a switch of some sort; that clicks on automatically and with out warning. As I gather all my goodies to make a large cup of coffee my mind starts buzzing. The colors in my mind become radiant and vibrant. It’s as if it is six am, the sun is rising and the blue jays are singing a melody in my mind. At night the melody is welcoming but in the morning I dread to hear them singing outside my window because I am dead tired by then. Lol. It so crazy to say that out loud or to admit to other people. The dark and I have a love hate relationship. While, I feel more alive, sexy, alert, creative, happy and full of zest in the cloak of darkness; I still can’t help but feel a sense of dread, despair, loneliness, pain , uneasiness, unsafe and foreboding too.

As a child I hated the dark because behind it’s black veil of secrecy; lurked predators, touchy hands, monsters under the bed and uncertainty. I remember once my mother kicked me out of the house at the age of twelve years old. At the time she had her fill of me emotionally. She just couldn’t take my behavior anymore and she allowed the streets to have me. I recall the fear and dread I had the first time night fell and I had no where to safe to sleep. So that night I didn’t sleep. I walked and walked and walked until I got tired. I only stopped to rest my feet . I never ventured to far from North Miami for varies reasons. The most important reason was I wanted to make sure I stayed close to my middle school. No matter what was going on in my life I knew I needed to be in school. If I think back. I can still feel the warm Miami air on my face embracing my body like a warm hug from my mother. I remember walking and looking for secure places to sleep. I slept on the forth floor in stairwell of an apartment building for many nights. I knew when It was safe for me to sleep there and instinctively knew when to get up and get out of there before the first person got up for work. I had friends at school that helped me too. Whenever their parents went to bed they would sneak me in from the cold streets and allowed me to get a couple hours of uninterrupted sleep. I remember stumbling upon a dusty old van parked in a gas station/repair shop and getting so exited. I opened the back door and climbed in there. The smell of the van was so weird and unfamiliar to me. It was dirty, messy and smelled like mold and mildew. The smell was so overwhelming and overpowering that I recall getting violently sick to my stomach but the warmth and security of the van is what allured me and held me captive. That became my go to place to sleep most of the nights when I was in and around the North Miami area.

On certain nights when I could not manage to walk to the van or if I wanted to sleep in a bed; I sometime hung out with some older kids I knew. They would rented a rooms whenever they had money. You would think that would’ve been advantageous to me personally because I had a place to shower and a bed to sleep in . Nope, my dear lovelies that wasn’t the case. As I slept in the bed I could feel hands on my body that did not have permission to be there. I could feel their eyes boring holes into my body in the pitch dark. All I wanted was to be twelve years old, at home, warm and in my bed again. I didn’t want to be on the defensive all night but I had too and I learned quick! Let me tell you about the people in my life back then; they took advantage of my age, my situation and my circumstances and they used my pain and homelessness to their advantage. It got so bad that Every time the sun started to fall I no longer felt safe in the van, with friends or over anyone else house. I started going to the rooftop of a specific hotel in Miami and that is were I stayed until the sun came up. The hotel roof top was on the 25th floor. It became my safe haven, protector and sense of peace after while. I was so scared in the beginning to fall asleep up there; that I would sit on the very edge of the roof and dangle my legs over the edge to keep me up and alert. The view was so beautiful from way up there. I felt at peace and away from prying eyes and roaming hands. I don’t remember being afraid of how high I was nor was I afraid of falling. I woke up many days on my tummy sleeping on the edge of the roof. I was at a point that I would rather fall to my death than be touched by someone that I didn’t want on my body. This is one of the times that I know the universe protected me from harm. Kept me safe and kept me alive.

You know what lovelies? I still attended school everyday for the two months that I was on the streets. Not once did I go to school and tell any authorities figures what was going on with me because I didn’t want to get my mom in trouble. I tough it out and made it to school on time for breakfast every morning. Every morning depending on where I slept that night, I would go to a nursing home to clean up, do my hair and prepare for school. I would then go to Walgreen’s and steal two King sizes candy bars to eat through out the day. That is how I managed to stay clean. How I manage to keep my clothes clean was a whole different ball game. I would take my clothes in the dead of night to a random apartment complexes laundry area and take out the clothes in the washer and replace them with mine and do the same with the clothes in the dyer. I would wash a weeks worth of clothes. Fold them up and hide them where ever I slept that night. I went to school every day and pretended like everything was okay. I know that I was not walking alone during this time. There was a higher being that protected me from other situation like being a victim of human trafficking, prostitution or getting kidnapped and never being seen alive again. I made it through that moment of my life without getting my mother in trouble and without me dying. She took me back in after while but that experience has never left my mind. I believe that impacted me greatly as a young child. I was too young to be out there homeless and alone. I was to young to be tossed out like trash by my mother and treat like trash by others because I needed them and their help. To this day this is one of the reason I have abandonment issues. If my own mom could kick me out on to the street and not think twice; why would I think anyone else in my life would stay? This is an area that is very tough for me . It’s the hardest thing for me to process, understand and let go of.

I really try hard to try and understand myself and why I do the things I do. When I got older I always worked the third and second shift of every job I had. I worked nights up until I had my first child. After he was born I needed to be home with him at night. So between my childhood and always working over night. I believe that is the reason why my body get’s up at 8 pm every single night. I know there are many days I don’t go to sleep for days too because of my Bipolar. Now that I am older it has slightly changed. As a single mom. I am up; listening for the slightest noise or movement outside of my home. Especially after someone tried to break in my home when myself and my kids were home. I am not worried about people touching me or hurting me anymore. That is now the worry I have for my kids. I can’t see the bad people that I see in my mind outside my house at night and that makes me scared. I wish that I had a husband at times. I don’t know what a restful sleep really feels like unless I take a sleeping aids or when My friend Mrs. Sun comes up. I only like like the Sun because It feels like It’s my protector and my Friend who looks out for my best interest. She is a warm, light and snugly blanket that keeps me safe from harm. I can see who is coming and who is going in broad daylight because of her. When she is out I sleep with my guard down, clothes off and free.

There is no rhyme or reason for this blog. I just started typing about my love hate relationship with the dark and my mind tripped and went down memory lane. I have had some really shitty things happen to me in my life but I have had some amazing things happen in my life too like the birth of my kids. I am not all doom and gloom. I am just here trying to make sense of my pain in order for me to help other people make sense of theirs too. You are not alone wounded souls . I am here with you and for you. We can walk through this thing called life together. I have walked through darkness all my life sadly enough. Now It is my calling and plight in life to help others find the way out of their darkness too.

Wow, damn, this is the first time I ever wrote about me being homeless at 12. I have kept it somewhere safe and sound to protect me from the pain it brought me whenever I’d remember it. Breathe Kidada.. Time for bed!

The Thoughts From a Bipolar Mind.

How do I begin to describe what’s going on in my head? I am working off of an hour sleep. My eyes are closing, my body is in pain and all it wants to do is lie down but of course, my mind is like ” shut the hell up” I feel so frigging angry inside right now for no apparent reason at all. I mean if anyone looks at me wrong, raises their voice at me or bothers me at this very moment I feel like I will snap. I feel like I will explode like a wine cork in a tight space and leave a massive amount devastation in my wake if I open my mouth. I don’t have a clue why I feel this way today but I will acknowledge this emotion and also make sure that I do not say anything mean to anyone I love today. I don’t feel like being regretful and remorseful too.

Damn; I am so hungry too but I can’t eat a bite of food. I am so tired but I feel the need to go walking or workout. I am rapid cycling in between happy, mad and Sad. Stopping at sad every time as I think about my cousins and his death or when I see him in my mind’s eye. Anxiety is riding the hell out of my ass something fierce too. It keeps telling me “sleep is for the weary”. The sun is out. You need to be productive. It’s telling me to go workout, start dinner, go walking and wash them clothes now too! It keeps reminding that I didn’t write last night and it keeps making me feel bad about doing that? Better yet it says to me ” Go do all of them at the same time”. This is the thought I was waiting for and it is showing up right on time. Can you hear it telling me that I am a bad mom if I go to sleep right now? I know I should have rested before the kids came home from school but my mind killed those plans. It keeps chanting to me over and over again ” your a bad mom” . How about you go to sleep later and I mean much later like after 4 am? . Just get started somewhere anywhere but get there now. Let’s go Kidada. Mush mush!!!

I can hear my thoughts so loud and clear. I have front row tickets to this beautiful and loud dysfunctional shit show. My thoughts resemble a Rock and roll band playing at a packed concerts during the noon day . My thoughts are rapidly flashing like hotel signs on every corner of the strip in Las Vegas. They are illuminating and vibrant; using both neon and florescent colors to blend a beautiful picture of chaos. They are so loud and intense that they hurt my head and give a headache. The crazy thing is that; the soothing melody coming from the Blue jays chirping outside my window are driving me mas too. They are zoom by at lighting speeding. All I can see are the tail ends of my thoughts as they zip by rear-ending each other. My thoughts are colliding, crashing and causing mass confusion with my brain waves and causing mayhem on the highway of my nervous system. All my thoughts are l competing to be seen, heard and felt by me the owner. It is only one in the afternoon and I am already mentally exhausted. I am so glad that I am a stay at home mom at the moment. I would be a fucking shit storm of a mess if I was at work today.

I am going to take charge of my mind and go take a sleeping pill and set my alarm clock. I will wake up in three hours. I can deal with three hours . Right now I can’t function properly to complete my chores, workout or do my laundry because my body is running on fumes now. My body is literally aching in pain everywhere but it is that frigging mind of mines. It’s still trying to convince me otherwise as we speak.. Real talk! So I am going to try to power down for 3 hours. Wish me luck beloved. I hope that I drift off to sleep before Anxiety pop back in with all the “what if thoughts”, “why come” thoughts and” here let me make you cry” thoughts. I love my mind too because it is so creative, inspiring, artistic and more but I hate how there is no kill switch in my head to turn it down a notch, turn off completely or at least let me be able to press the pause button.

“Lets not Play the Victim role”

The Court of the Second Judicial Circuit, Criminal acts against your Soul Division, is now in session, the Honorable Judge Mrs.Be honest with your self presiding. Judge: Everyone but the jury may be seated. Mr. Come clean, please swear in the jury. Bailiff: Please raise your right hand. As the juries raise their right hands I hear them repeat the words that the bailiff is reciting :I swear that the evidence that I shall give, shall be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God. Affirmation: I solemnly affirm that the evidence that I shall give, shall be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

I hear my Name being called so I stand up. I am the first one and only one called up to the stand tonight. As I start to walk up to the stand I feel my knees getting weak under me. The walk from my chair to the stand looks miles away. My hands begin to sweat and my mind begins to race. I am truly scared to confess my truth to the 12 juries of my peers. What will they think of me? How will I look to them. Will they pass judgement on me and my actions? “Of course they will” I can hear myself saying to myself. Damn how did I get here again? I thought I learned from my past mistakes. Damn, I am a repeat offender. This will not look good on my track record of love. The closer I get to the bench everything in me want to bolt out the door but I can’t back out now. I have to face the fire and suffer the consequences of my actions. I sit down like a lady full of pose and grace. I sure as hell look the part I am trying to portray on the outside but I wouldn’t be here if I was the same person inside.

I place my hand on the bible as I am sworn in . I can hear myself saying;
“I swear that the evidence that I shall give, shall be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God. Affirmation: I solemnly affirm that the evidence that I shall give, shall be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.” I can feel the acid churning in my belly trying hard to creep up in to my esophagus. It’s ready to spew all over my beautiful dress but I swallow the bitterness back down my throat. The judge looks at me and says ” Mrs. Kendrick you know why you are here? I reply ” Yes you honor” and she proceeds to start listing of the following charges: (1) Criminal treason against your soul. ( Felony) (2)Lying to yourself ( misdemeanor) (3) Not observing all the red flags and warns that the universe sent you ( Felony) and finally (4) accepting the unacceptable from a person that was not in alignment with your soul. ( Felony) “How do plead Mrs. Kendrick”? I heard all the charges and I grimaced and turned away. I looked back with a pitifully look of shame and wanted to Scream ” Not guilty” ” I am the Victim” ” I was bamboozled and hoodwinked” but who the hell am I fooling? Me? One of my charges against me was lying to myself. I looked over at the judgmental juries and I said in an low inaudible voice ” I plead Guilty your Honor”.

Just hearing myself say those words instantly made me feel like shitty person. I can’t believe that I am here once again repeating the same crimes against myself. The only difference is that the universe sent the same type of man I had prior but this time in a different earthly shell. Just to see if I had learned my lesson the last go round. I was sure that I did. You could not have convinced me other wise. I just knew I acknowledged all my flaws, faults, self- esteem and self doubt issues by now. I just knew that I examined myself with a magnifying glass from head to toe. I started recalling all the days in the therapist office working out my issues and even doing homework for the week until I seen her again. I even stopped have sex for seven years in order to heal my emotional wounds. I just knew that I was in a good head space. I was ready to meet someone new. I was confident; at least I appeared to be on the outside but actually I don’t really think I was. The Judge looked at me with a disappointed look. I didn’t have a lawyer but the Universe had a defense lawyer named ” Mrs. Karma. As Mrs Karma approached the bench I noticed her piercing blue eyes Staring through my soul. “Mrs. Kendrick Please state your Whole name for the juries”. I said Kidada Kendrick and then the cross examination began.

Tell me about your last relationship if it was even called that. Was it a relationship? I replied “no” I don’t believe in titles. First lie I convinced myself of. I was to afraid to place a name or a title on it in fear that it wouldn’t work if it did . I also didn’t want to run him away so soon asking about our relationship status. Remember now I was celibate for 7 years prior. At that time I was a working single mother attending school . I never went out or did anything fun. I attended church, went to the library, hiking, to the gym and home. It took a while to even invite him to my home. After nine months on the phone I finally felt comfortable meeting him in my personal space. ( outside my home) .. That is where my story began. The first test I failed was I was in awe of his earthly shell. I was taken back by his beauty. I was awestruck over his chiseled body and his deep Jamaican accent. ( The father of my children was aesthetically pleasing on the outside too but he was a horrible person on the inside. I promised myself that I would not be swayed by a persons looks any more. That I would evolve and start looking for great inner qualities, great characteristics, pose, manners and an all around gentleman. Well I was so eye struck that I let that thought evade my mind. I was impressed by his appearance and that was my first fall. At this time of my life I was practicing something new for me. I wanted to see if I allowed a person to be exactly who they were and loved them exactly as they are; how would it fair out. So I allowed him to be himself and in return I was for the first time allowed to be myself unabashedly and that felt great.

I was able to talk about any and every thing to him and so was he . So I thought. I was so busy hyping up the fantasy and fairy tail in my mind that I started to disregard little shit. I kept looking at the bigger picture in stead of looking at the small intrinsic details. As months turned into years I started to noticing little patterns, inconsistencies and other things that didn’t sit well with my soul. At that time I must admit that I was passive aggressive. I took note and never said anything to avoid conflict between us. I started to notice that he was an emotionally distant and unavailable person. Another lesson I failed. I am a very emotionally charged and emotionally invested soul. I love hard , wide and long. I promised myself that I wouldn’t date a person who was emotionally detached because my father was that way. I promised myself that I would not be involved with anyone of that nature and here I stood making excuses for him and trying to find an understanding. I was so understanding to a fault for him but I neglected myself and my emotionally needs for him. During this time loyalty had the best of me and he was the one guy that I was sleeping with. However, Mr. man hand a roaming eye. He loved all types of women and I was well aware of his appetite for them. I always told him that I understood how hard it was for a young man to be faithful in this day in age. I was accepting of him sleeping with other women. Crazy as that sounds I did. As long as every three month he had an AIDS and STD test I was cool and he did that without hesitation. This is the third lie that I told myself. I really do feel like no one should lock a person down until they are ready emotionally, physically or mentally but I was not used to that personally. I am used to being in a committed relationship. However how committed I was in those relationships they cheated anyways. So I wanted to try something new. I lied to myself and tried to convince myself I was okay with it.

Where you really okay with it ? Mrs. Karma asked. “No I wasn’t” I said sheepishly and sadly. That’s when the feelings of not being enough crept in. That is when my insecurities began to show up unannounced and without warning. That’s when I started to compare and judge myself and my appearance to other women. That’s when I started feeling like I was never going to be what he wanted; if he himself didn’t know what he wanted. Instead of leaving I stayed. I became more invested over time. I became more involved with his daily interactions. I started playing house like a fool and taking on the wife role without the ring. I started cooking , cleaning and bring lunch to his job. We started spending more time together and I thought that was good enough. While in the back of my head I knew he was spending time some where else, with someone else and yes; that began to eat me to the core. In the mist of it all I kept sleeping with him alone. I got more and more attached to him and his presence in my life. Then I started to notice that he was not a very given person. He was not a person that like to share either. He was all about himself, his needs, his wants and his desires. ( how the hell did I miss all that ? ) He was not a person that was there for me when I needed him the most because he didn’t know how to handle emotional situations. I should have walked away then too but I thought that my love, kindness and compassion would rub off on him. He was not a person that you could go to in your time of need without him making you feel like you were a burden. He wanted , wanted, wanted and wanted yet he had no ability to give if his life depended on it. He was used to something I couldn’t offer. All the women before me didn’t make him work for anything. He was spoiled with money, trips, clothes and all matters of materialist things from them. When He met this single mom I couldn’t and wouldn’t take care of a man. I should have left again when he said ” I didn’t bring anything to the table” like all the other women.

So ” Mrs. Kendrick why did you stay after that?” Mrs. Karma asked. Well by then fours years had come and gone and truthfully that was the only man I was seeing and the only man that my kids saw me with. I tried to help him see that I was more than what he gave me credit for. I was starting to have the dreaded conversations about my worthiness. How he does see my worth or how he doesn’t appreciate the women that I was. I started trying to convince him that I was a great women with substance and who was a priceless masterpiece. I started trying to get him to notice the good in me. To see that I was worth his time.. Ugh ( read that again) that I was worth his time, energy and money. No matter what I did to try to convince him of the great women he had in his mist. He dismissed it, down played it or made me feel like I was talking to much. Saying the same thing over and over again and actually I was. I read somewhere if you have to tell a person what you need, like or want over and over again and they don’t make an effort to change they don’t respect you. I feel that. I noticed that I was allowing this person to treat me in a manner that was unacceptable repeatedly . I started to slowly show him how to disrespect me by not respecting myself. I was showing him how to put me last by always putting him before myself. I know that; what I was experiencing was so damn toxic and damn unhealthy but I didn’t care. Can you believe what I just said? “I said I didn’t care”. The harsh reality was that I wanted a person that didn’t want me wholly. I wanted a man that was emotionally unavailable and I knew that. I wanted a man that didn’t speak to the Queen in me but who spoke to the Concubine in me. I can’t believe that wanted a man that was not mature enough to know and or wise enough to comprehend how to appreciate the rare gem he held in his hands. I allowed him to hold my rare soul in his hands with reckless abandonment. He didn’t caring if he dropped me and shatter my soul along the way.I can’t believe that I wanted a man that spoke down to me on some days, didn’t speak to me on other days or didn’t listen to me with intention on the rest of the days. I have never felt the stinging feeling of not being wanted, or the crushing feeling of being unloved like this before. It was almost a game to make him want me. In the end Mrs. Karma I was not enough for him and I never will be.

I used to listen to him tell me that “no one will want you with all your mental illness issues”. He said it so much that I started believing that. That became the sick reason why I hung on in the end . I was scared that the beautiful flawed human being I was would never be liked by another man besides him. He would always say ” It’s a trade off messing with you” You are fucking crazy and I still accept you for all of you.” The good and the bad parts of you too he would say. He said that if people new I had Bipolar disorder they would run and I believed him when he said that. I found myself acting differently. I found myself obsessing over him. I found myself believing his words as if they were written in stone. I remember the first time we had a fight . It was hand to hand combat and at that moment I reacted out of survival mode and did what I have always done all my life. I fought back. I started the fight. I hit him first but when I saw his fist swinging towards my face I knew that we would never be the same again. Now the toxicity was at a new level and what did we do? We had the most amazing sex the day after. So damn fucked up. I know; but that is how abusive relationships begin. I have been in them all my life so I can recognize the signs. I knew right there that we needed to end it . I knew that nothing good would become of us. I saw Mrs. Karma shake her head and as I looked at the juries I could see the repulsive looks on their faces. I heard one women say That couldn’t have been me”.. Oh yeah, that is what I sad too. I thought that I was so much better than that and so much better than what I was receiving from him. I thought that I would have walked by now. I thought a women like me would not put up with a mans bull shit ever again. I thought that I learned from my last relationship. Yet here I sit in this court room sharing details of my private hell to perfect strangers.

“What was the last straw for you Mrs. Kendrick”? Mrs. Karma asked. There are to many straws to count but the one that I will share with you is when he left to go to Jamaica for the holidays and he slept with a random women there. That change the score card. “Why did that change the score card; if you allowed him to do that in the beginning”? she asked . Well; I began, I started viewing myself differently by then. I started talking and voicing my concerns instead of hiding them from him in order to avoid conflict. I also started a journey with accepting myself; and my mental challenges. I was no longer afraid to share with others about my mental illness. I spoke to him in depths about how that made me feel and he promised me that he wouldn’t do that again to me.. ( but of course he did and of course he lied) You know; there is certain type of connection a person shares with someone they care about and sleep with. When he came home I knew something was off and the vibe was wrong. I just knew he did something. After a lot of poking and prodding the truth came out. I lost every bit of trust I had left for him. I remember crying and screaming on the phone to empty ears. He was so unemotionally unavailable that it was scary. He was so cold and ice like as if my existence and pain didn’t matter to him. He spoke to me in a harsh and demeaning tone as if I did something wrong to him personally. Like I was the one who slept with another person. How dear he turn that shit around on me like that and why hell did I feel like I was in the wrong when I knew I wasn’t?

Ever since that moment it was never the same. “Did” you call him again? Mrs. Karma asked? ” But of course I did” I said. I was pleading with him to not treat me unkind. Asking him”why are you treating me this way”? What did I do wrong to deserve this to be done to me? I remember asking him to come over the day after. Repeatedly. I resorted back to the deck of sex cards in hopes that would work and I could see he. ( Thankfully he said NO) I wanted him to just talk to me. I pleaded “don’t leave me”and a whole bunch of other bullshit. In the end we decided that this was getting out of hand and to toxic for the both of us. He apologized for what he did and that was that. The day after I felt nasty, stupid, used up and discarded like waste. I felt like he used and abused me. I was ashamed that he knew all my private secrets and personally traumas. I felt like he got a chance to experience all the goodness in me and he still was able to just walk away so easily as if I meant nothing to him in the first place. I felt like a Nobody, a person that was a gluten for punishment and a fool. I must say before I move on Your honor that there were good days and great days shared between us too. There were long passionate steamy nights and conversations that kept us awake until the crack of dawn full of laughter and cheer. There were amazing moments watching sports together, cuddling together and enjoying good food together. I have learned an awful lot from him along the way that has helped shaped me in better ways. I will not sit here and claim it was all for not and it was horrible from beginning to end because that would be a lie. He did try to make little changes for me. I noticed when he tried. Let me give him credit where credit it due.

“Where do you stand today Mrs. Kendrick” I heard her say over my tears.. I wiped my face and I said. You know your Honor: I just really wanted to be loved so bad. In the course of that; I accepted and tolerated things that I didn’t deserve . The day that he told me ” Loyalty wasn’t a big deal to him I should have done more than think about what he said. I should have walked away when he said it. I am here to tell the court that I am not a victim. I was a willing participant in my own misery. I was well aware that I was not being treat like the Queen that I know that I am and I accepted that. I was well aware that he showed me on numerous occasions that he was not a good human being, partner or Friend but yet in still; I kept searching for the good in him all the way down in the bottom of the barrel. He never lie to me about who he was from the beginning. I accepted who he was at face value without trying to change him willfully. I accepted his roaming eyes and his lust for other women. I accepted and knew that he was a Narcissistic person too and I did try to change him by my deeds and actions and that clearly didn’t work neither. I was so swept up in the sexual aspect of it all, the fun of it all and the handsomeness of it all; so much so; that I lost myself loving him along the way. I was being so superficial that I disregarded his horrendous internal nature and his cold demeanor . I was engulfed with the idea of having a warm body in my bed instead of going to bed alone like usual . Many nights as I laid beside his warm body I have never felt more alone. isolated and sadder than I did with him.I saw all the read flags being thrown onto the field of life and I ran straight up to them, look at them, read them and kept going. I felt my gut intuition going off on red alert so many times and all I did was place a plastic bag over the light and push the feeling down in order to be with him again. There is no one else to blame but me for being so desperate for wanting to feel loved. The funny thing is I never felt loved not once the whole time I was with him. I lived in my mind most of the time with him making him into my Knight and Shinning Armor. It’s not his fault that I offered him the star role in my drama series. He was playing a role that was not meant for him to play, prepared for him to play or wanted to play. I did my soul a total disservice by allowing the wrong soul to make a connection with my beautiful soul. I should have listen to my gut from the start and not from my lonely heart.

Your Honor. If I may… I don’t think that he honestly deserved me. I think he took full advantage of my giving and caring nature. He knew that his intentions where not pure or in my best interest but he proceeded anyways. He was well aware of all my past hurts, pain and struggles and he promised me that he would not be a source of pain to me too. He did what he knew what to do. He came into this with different motives than mine. I am not the one that lost a rare and beautiful human being. I am not the one that lost a real friend that would have had his back to the end. I am not the one who lost out on a great , loyal, honest, creative , loving and amazing soul. He will miss what he had after I am long gone, The reality of what he lost will sting him in the end like a stingray. You know what? I actually won here not him. I won myself back, my self esteem back, my pride, my happiness, my self respect, my dignity, my pride, my peace of mind and so much more. In return I lost a narcissistic, unemotional, unkind, selfish and uncaring soul. I am not here to teach boys how to become men. I am not here to rehabilitate sick and wounded men. I am not here to raise any one else son’s. ( I have my own son to raise.)That was their mothers job. I just wanted to acknowledge that out loud to you and every one in court today. I really am not missing out on anything that will serve my soul. Help with my elevation as a person or to help with my healing process. I am on the right road of becoming a better version of myself daily. I don’t hate him. Instead I respect the Universe for sending him to me. It showed me that I still have a lot of word to be done with myself.

So your honor I am guilty as charged and I am ready to accept my punishment. Court room was silent. So silent that you could hear a pin drop. She looked at me and said ” Kidada Kendrick I appreciate that you’re taking full accountability for the part you played in all this” , ” I know that was emotionally hard for you to admit your truth in front of all these complete strangers” She went on to say ” I applaud you for your bravery , honesty and candor” . With that being said I sentence you back in to Therapy for another year. You must do and complete community service with yourself.” I believe there is still a lot of hidden pain, old wounds and other emotional issues that you need to take care of “. “You are not to get into a committed relationship for a year or better”. You are not allowed to see, call or have sex with him anymore”. That is off the table. She said. She continued and said “I will allow you to call him for important reasons only; if there is such a need. There will be no over night stays at his house, he is not allowed in your home or in your panties”.”You have a year or two to complete my order” she declared. You are not to have any interaction with any males until you gain more self love and self respect for yourself” Mrs. Karma came close to me and whispered in my ear “Good job beautiful soul. I believe in you” and she walked off and disappear into the air just like magic. Leaving a trail of hope, love and gold pix dust behind her. The judge excused me . I slowly rose off of the bench feeling, light, free and ready . The juries rose from their seats as well and started to file out of the court room. Before they left I saw the tears in their eyes as they all gave me a smile and thumbs up. I walked out into the noon day sun feeling revitalized, inspired and full of hope again. Gone was the feeling of shame, regret, pain and sorrow. It left my body the moment I started speaking my truth, I am no ones Victim and I will not play the victim card neither! I was a willing participant in my pain. I knew better and yet I chose to look away. I am proud of myself for acknowledging my truth. No matter what; today I have learned that the one person you should never lie to is yourself and if anything ever insults your soul you need to release it.