One of the things I dislike the most about having a public journal/blog is the fact that I always hesitate before writing what's truly on my heart. In the back of my mind there is always the fear that someone, somewhere will judge me, take things out of context or criticize. That's part of the reason I stopped posting daily/weekly.

However, I feel that writing enhances my thought process and helps me deal with little issues here and there. So I've made a promise to myself to continue to write, to try and write daily because I miss it. And I miss its soothing effects on my person.

That said, I wish sometimes that I could simply stop emoting. It's one of those things I typically characterize as being distinctly feminine and I firmly believe that it's a weakness. I can't stand getting emotional about things that don't involve my children. That type of emotion, the maternal kind, is okay. I can deal with that. That overwhelming, all-consuming, powerful love, wistfulness and occasional sadness of parenthood. That, I can tolerate.

What I hate is the other emotions that come with day to day living and contact with other people. On this day, of all days, I hate being reminded of love. I hate feeling sorry for myself because, lo, I have no one to love me. The ultimate slap in the face was finding out my suspicions about my kids' father were true. He is seeing someone, it's serious and he's thinking about making her a permanent fixture in his life.

That is a good thing. I am happy for him. He's always been the type to need another person to feel complete. He's not entirely a bad guy so, yay for him. But... it bothered me. Not in the sense that I'm jealous of his girlfriend. God forbid. I don't love him, don't want him, thank God daily that I had the sense not to marry him. It's just... it's that he was the least likely person I thought would find a mate. It bothers me that everyone else can find a special someone, while I get other women's leftovers (i.e. married men).

That thought gave me serious pause. That pause caused considerable pain. Somewhere in that mid-chest region, around that foreign object I keep forgetting I have otherwise known as the heart. I did have to ask myself, why not me? What am I doing wrong that I cannot get a single decent man in my life? For a long time I've always thought I was single by choice... hm. Seems I'm not exactly choosing it anymore.

What's my problem?

Is it really me? Or is it them?

I was once told by a former friend that because of the way I carried myself and the way I spoke that I'd never be attractive to black men. I laughed her comments off at the time and called them ridiculous. Absurd. She claimed that I acted as if I didn't need a man and black men in particular need to feel needed. Plus I spoke "like a white girl" and that intimidated black men and intimated that I felt superior to them.

I still think that's a load of bullshit.

Fast forward to the early part of last year and I was just in casual conversation with a married lover and he commented that the type of man I sought would never be found (for the record I said I desired a man that was intelligent, stable and would love me for me. I think I may have put in a few minor particulars that I can't recall at the moment but those were the top things I sought...). I asked why; he responded that I intimidate men too much. Just by being me. He said the way I carried myself was with the attitude of "I don't need you". I said well, I don't need a man. And I still feel that way. I don't need a man to feel complete. But I'll come back to that statement in a minute. Mr. Married Friend stated that that was exactly the problem. He said a man needs to feel needed otherwise he figures why bother?

*cue chirping crickets*


So after that I went to another friend (another former lover but very close friend) and asked him the same questions... and I received the same fucking answers. What. The. Fuck. Seriously? I need to be practically desperate to pull a dude? A black man in particular? Getthafuckouttahere.

Look, I would love to have someone special in my life. I'd love to give every ounce of love I have in my cold, black little heart and have it reciprocated. In the relationships I've had in the past, all of which have been long standing, I was a great girlfriend. I was a great wife when I was married. This isn't just my opinion, all of my exes said the same thing. They really had no complaints and our relationships fizzled because of other reasons (like finding that one boyfriend was a psychotic, married, stalker or discovering that he wasn't man enough to handle responsibilities [that was baby daddy] or merely discovering that we were no longer suited for one another). So I really thought I was prime girlfriend material.

*cue the crickets again*

Evidently, I'm wrong.

As far as needing a man... please. I don't need a man. Yes, I'd like to have a good man but I won't be all miserable and on suicide watch (yeah, I've had some friends that were like that) just because I don't have someone with a three piece set at my side. Having a good man is like... It's like cooking a tried and true recipe and one day you add a different ingredient and it adds a whole new flavor to the dish. The dish was fine without the new ingredient, but better with the addition.

That's what I want. I don't feel incomplete. But I'd enjoy having an accompaniment.

Which brings me back to baby daddy and the new girlfriend. Again, I'm not jealous that she has him. Good Lawd she can take him (preferably far, far away from here... like Tanzania). I'm jealous that he gets the joys of the single life. That he can go out and date, whereas I'm either in the position of taking the kids with me or locating a sitter. He can go spend his money on himself. I spend my last dimes on the children. He can go out to places where singles congregate. I get the PTO and kiddie birthday parties. I think I'm more upset at the gross disparity in our lives than the actual outcome.

I wish... a lot more than I care to admit... I wish that I could devote more time on me. On cultivating my interests, maximizing my appearance, on being young and single. But I can't, or rather I can't seem to focus on that right now. Right now, as always, the focus is on the girls. And that's okay. That's my chosen lot in life and I enjoy it. But then natural feelings like the ones I'm experiencing now creep in and I start to resent things... people... my own children.

That's worrisome. I feel, as always, that I have the better part of the deal because I have the kids, I have all their experiences. But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't experiencing burnout. That frightens me terribly. I don't like resenting my girls and I don't like not being able to fully enjoy them.

And truthfully, I'm not really sure how to deal with it or change it. I'm open to suggestions though.


Jeff said...

I fully understand your feelings. Although, I am not in the same situation you are in...I truly understand how and why you feel the way you do. You are the true grown up and it is difficult even for grown ups to find time for themselves when they have all the responsibility and little help with that in the home. I wish that things could be different for you. I miss you.
Love always,