Let me touch on something. Let me smash a few toes and anger a lot of already bruised egos. ( Grow the Hell up.. or close your legs and stop sleeping around and breeding broken human beings!) This includes me as well.
Children are a product of two strangers engaging in a sexual act that coincidentally produced a beautiful soul or in my case two beautiful souls. It doesn’t matter whether it was a planned or unplanned pregnancy there was a soul born. I have been reading and responding to many different post recently regarding Child support, lack there of, visitation rights and who is keeping the kids from whom.
I am so fed the up with all these adults going back and forth with their bullshit ass excuses about the issues I listed above. We need to get are shit together for the sake of are kids. You can go back and damn forth on social media all you want about having to pay child support and how the mother of your child or children ( not your Baby mamma) I hate that ghetto sounding terminology; but how she keeps you away from your kids or how she spend your child support.
We can keep having this same damn discussion on social media about how the Father of our child or children doesn’t pay child support, doesn’t help financially, physically or mentally with raising your beloveds. For whatever damn reason me included likes to hop on these types of post divide areselves in groups and ready to fight the good fight with are words. We all want to appear like the saint and never the villain and in reality we are all a villain in someones story-line or plot twist including me.
It’s friggin crazy how we defend are opinion but not are kids. Pay close attention to every word plastered on a post yet refuse to pay child support. How both parties blast each other about what they do or don’t do but in reality you are doing something but still not doing enough for your children offline.
Do you know what happens to the children on the sideline watching this shit show like uninvited sectors on the bench. They are the ones taking in are adult madness and blaming their existence for us adults fighting. They are on the sidelines taking it all in and coming up with conclusions on their own about how a man should treat a women and how a women should treat a man and most importantly how they are going to treat their children in the future.
If you are only damsging your children by not paying your child support because you are angry with her, still wanting to sleep with her, mad at her for having a new man or you simply have contempt in your heart for her. Let me tell you Brother you are only up your kids!! If the mother of you kids are struggling dummy so are your damn Kids. They are the ones going without food, shelter, lights, warm clothes, school needs, extra curricular activities and more because of your selfIsh ass ego and your need to hurt the mother of you kids. The best thing you can do for your kids is love and respect them and their mother. Being in love with her at this point is pointless but loving the mother of your kids is important. They are two different things!
Kill your horrid ego and learn how to co – parent together for the sake of their stability, sanity and happiness of your children. Damn it is not about us selfish ass egotistical adults!! Its’s about the beautiful souls who didn’t ask to be here.
For the mothers that selfishly keep their children from their fathers you are a very nasty creature and you are making good moms like myself who begging the father to see their kids look bad. People generalize and lump us all together and I hate that! However; if you’re keeping them away from an abusive father, a father that is mentally incapable of caring for your children or other justified reasons why is one thing. However if you are doing it out of spite to hurt him is an inhuman and treasonous thing to do to him and the child or children!!
They deserve the right to know both sides of the tree. You are not here to be their all. You were called to be their mom and he is called to be their father. Do not set up your children for future failure because of your pettiness, your jealousy of him moving on with another women, your divorce or bitterness. It feel so good to you to hurt him like he hurt you but do you truly love your children if you are willingly hurting them to get back at him?
Let me tell you the outcome of what adult madness does to are beloveds. They will end up feeling , unloved, unwanted, abandoned and feel like their very existence is a burden. They will be the ones struggling along side the single parent or left sadden by not being able to see the parent who is willing to put in the time. They will cry themselves to sleep, develop depression, anxiety, suicidal tendencies and more. They will have low self esteem issues and issues with trusting people.
How do I know? Whelp; my two broken children are a product of two immature adults.. and now they are in therapy because of us! They feel hurt, abandoned, unwanted and unloved by their dad and they feel the effects and struggles of living in a one parent home with me. Thank God we all go to therapy and we are all as a family working through are shit together. Everyone is not that lucky
They will end up in therapy fighting for the right words to explain their feelings to the therapist ; ( a feelings they should never have in the first place) They will have a screwed up view of the world and relationships as a whole because of us dumb ass adults who couldn’t get it together for sake of are kids ..
Why are we intentionally breaking are own children? We may have been broken as kids too and we know how that feels. Then why the fuck are we not dying trying to make sure that are children are not wounded and broken too? Get the hell off of social media with your debating asses and learn to shut your mouth. Go home and learn how to co parent your children AND LEARN HOW TO BECOME MATURE ADULTS for the sake of those innocent souls caught in the cross fire!. If you need proof address my daughter Maxi Naysa or Selah Craft if you need a kids prospective!
On this love day I sit here with mixed emotions.I sit here once again snuggled tightly and wrapped in my alone time. I am searching for the right words to depict how I am truly feeling while filling up my timeline with memes to distract the negative thoughts that are knocking on my mind. They are so relentless and loud. They a begging to get inside my head to break me down mentally and to succeed in emotionally breaking my soul too. I can tell those thoughts wanted me to feel shame, sadness, and all around not enough. It wanted to make me feel small, unloved and not wanted. It want to make me cry again and feel the warm victory of my emotional defeat.
Instead I am going to write and get these unexpressed emotions out.This is a pagan holiday true enough but it’s a day that.is observed for love. If anyone truly knows me; they would know that I am love embodied and encased in human flesh. I love to love, give love, be loved and I love the idea of love. However, here I sit again alone on a day that is dedicated to the very emotion that drives my soul. Here I sit wondering about; why is the very emotion I share with ease to the world and to the people I love; is so elusive to my very being. It’s as if I am here to show the world how it feels to be unconditionally loved but the oxymoron of it all is that; I am not allowed to feel the very emotion in return. ( Except from my two beloveds)
I have been chasing Love ever since I was a child. I was always fighting for my emotionally unavailable father to become available and to say those three words to me. Yes materialistically he showed me he loved me but he lacked the ability to show me with a kiss, hug, pat on the back or just saying ” I love you ” I begin to think in some strange and twisted way when he physically abused me that; that was love and at least I was getting some kind of attention and emotion from him. As life would have it; the very people that said they loved me as a child was motivate with bad intentions. Their love wasn’t pure it was dark and twisted. It snatched my innocence and replaced it with shame.
It changed the meaning of the word “love” forever. As I got older I was faced with other #Metoo situations and after while it became my normality. When I hit my adult years and started to date and get into relationships and they began to mimic my childhood situations. I have been a wanted women since the age of 10. I have been lusted after all my life but never loved in my fullness and unconditionally. I am so use to men seeing me as a sexual object of their lustful desires; but I was never seen as a women that they wanted to love, cherish and protect. I accepted that as my fate and gave up the pursue of love ever being beautiful, pure and reciprocated.
That is where my pleasing nature was formed. I started to be the only one in the relationship doing everything. I started accepting their emotional unavailability and becoming emotional for both parties I did all the cooking, cleaning and more and never asking for help. I became the ultimate pleaser in the bedroom all the while knowing that they would not be the same way for me. I had no idea how I wanted or need to be loved properly because I was never shown that type of love in the past. So; I had no good examples of love to refer back to.In the end. At the same time; I had learned to accepted the unacceptable in the pursuit of feeling what I thought love was.
It took years and years of deprogramming my mind and falling back in love with myself to understand what true love feels like. It took for me to have kids to experience unconditional love. It took me to watch how It felt loving my children to understand how love felt. I am no where; where I would like to be but I am no where I use to be either. I find myself digressing at times in the pursue of love still. The difference is I know better now… I understand why I am doing what I am doing. I understand the thought process behind my actions.
Yet and still I will endure painful situations to have the imaginary feeling of love. I have settled. Knowing all along that I was settling but my mind started to convinced myself again that I didn’t deserve better. That I am always meant to be misunderstood and devoid of love by default. It is an unexplained feeling; wanting something so bad all your life; yet you are never able to obtain in reality . I am such a simple women, I am such a great women, loving women with great qualities and character I am so loyal and dedicated . I have a pure heart and pure intentions too. I have many wifey qualities but life is always saying ” nope, not this year Kidada”
So recently; I noticed I begin to start feeling not enough again. I started feeling like I am not meant to be loved in this life time. The negative voices were loud again but this year I am going to do something different. I am going to start manifesting with intention what I want in a man and in a relationship. I am going to stop settling and wait for my magical King to manifest into my reality . I am not going to chase after love anymore. I am not going to accept the unacceptable all in the name of love.
I am going to keep falling in love with myself over and over again until I understand my value and my worth unequivocally. Then and only then will I now what true love looks like and I will no longer settle for runner up love anymore. I am worthy of the love I give out to others. I am more than enough. I am a gem. A queen and a beautiful soul that will be loved properly in my life time.
Happy love day to all of you amazing Beautiful souls. I love you.
My thoughts for the evening!💻
(Be more than a pretty face beloveds)
I am not just beautiful. I am not just sexy. I am not just a fine women . I am not just my body.( In reality all of my life men have made me feel that way and that breaks and always has broken my heart …)
I am not a visual goddess of perfection. I am not a great angled selfie. I am not just merely a pretty face. I am so much more than people give me credit for!😭😪
I didn’t choose the earthly shell that I embody. I am a combination of my parents, God and the universe. (Hell, most of my life I hated how I looked. )
What I am is a beautiful soul. I am love and light. I seek peace, understanding and overstanding. I am a collection of love and pain. I am here to make a difference by first making a difference with myself and my family. I am a lover of love, pure joy and internal bliss. A person that believes in Justice.
I am a soul that feels everyone’s emotions that are in ear shot of me and that means I feel, carry and understand others pain without words. I am here to service and help others on this lifes journey as openly and honestly as I can. I don’t care if you pass judgement on me for anything I say or write. That is merely a refelection of your judemental soul and not mine.
Stop merely looking at my earthly shell that is in fade mode as we speak. Stop addressing me by my appearance and start address me by that which lives within me just as I address you by your beautiful soul. I have bad hair days, morning breath, unkept toes at times and my shit stinks like yours. Lmaoooooooooooo😝😝😝😝😝!!!! Oh yeah I have to smell it not you so I know!
I am perfectly flawed just like you! I am not alway selfie or photo ready. I am a mess most days mentally, physically and spiritually. Don’t look at me like I am God’s gift to man.. Hell God doesn’t even want to claim me on most days and that speaks volumes!
I have problems and struggles just like you. No ones perfect. No selfie is perfect. Stop judging people by how fine they are and start judging them by the depths of their soul. The compassion in their hearts. The kindness in their bones. The empathy that pours from their heart from learned life lessons.
I wish in my heart that people would learn to use things and not people.. Love people and not things. Find the real meaning in life. Find your passion and calling and work towards them daily. I wish people would care more about humanity and less about material things. Life is not about a collection of things that you can’t take with you when pass. That goes to the next of kin who never worked hard for it like you did. Life is about LIFE! Life is about living and not merely existing.
Your meaning on earth is not measured by the clothes you wear, car you drive, house you live in or the degrees you have rightfully earned. While all that is great.. What is even greater is to me is how well you treat yourselves, family and other human being in private, online and off line. No matter what their race, political affiliations, gender, sexual orientation, job title and social class..
Leave good memories for others when you pass! Leave something stronger than being a bad bitch with a fly ass body who had an emtpy mind and a harden heart! I want to die knowing I helped save a life or two. That I was the reason why someone didn’t give up or take their life. I was an inspiration to just one soul. That my life mattered because I respected and loved life and the lives of others😘😘😘😘😘😘
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 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.
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.