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3.28.2010

Disrespectfully...

At what point do you just stop caring, throw up your hands and walk away from a situation in disgust?

Jesus H. Christ... honestly, I am sick to death of bitching and complaining about life. Probably as sick of saying it as you all are of reading about it.

But, DAMN. Can not one fucking person on this planet respect my decisions? What the hell do I have to do to maintain peace and control in my life? I thought I was doing good. I got rid of my antagonists. I thought I was rid of the people that stressed me. I cut my mom from my life. I shipped my dad back to his own home. I moved nearly an hour away from my children's father.

It is not enough.

My mom visited me at work and we got into a lovely screaming match in the parking lot.

Today she dropped by unannounced, when I've pointedly asked her not to. I hate the fact that people will do that to me. Uninvited guests are my worst peeve and oddly enough I got that shit from my parents. They also hate uninvited guests. I wouldn't have opened the fucking door had my kids not been all up in the damned windows looking back at her. It didn't matter that I had shit to do. Doesn't matter that I have my final today, that I needed to briefly go out and get a few necessities. That the house wasn't straight. That I specifically asked her NOT TO COME.

The children's father... I... I just can't go there.

Jaalyn called my dad and asked him to come back at least for the week that she and her sister are out on spring break. So although he's gone, he'll still be back.

I just can't win.

No one respects my decisions. No one respects me as a person. No one respects me as a parent.

I would do anything in the world for some peace of mind. Peace in my heart. I'd love for people to actually respect what I say and do. I'd love to be permanently separated from those that seek to dismantle my esteem and want nothing more than to see me fail.

Maybe one day I'll do it. Maybe one day I'll achieve the respect I want.

Goddamn it. I'm so tired of being miserable.

3.24.2010

Seasons of Change...

I love where I live. Not the neighborhood necessarily, but I love living in Virginia. I’ve rarely been out of the state but for me, nothing is as beautiful as my home state, regardless of the season.


I’m not one of those people that has a preference for the seasons. I don’t particularly favor one season over another. Rather, I embrace each season as it comes and consider them all to be favorites. I love the summer, mainly because I was born in August but also because I love the sweltering, humid heat and the deafening late evening/late night thunderstorms. I love those drenching rainstorms that appear out of nowhere and just as soon as they appear, they are gone, leaving the earth drenched and steam rising from pavements and asphalt covered streets.

I love the coolness of fall and the Indian summers that sneak in there every year. The changing leaves enthrall me and leave me wondering at the outstanding beauty of so many tree lined streets. I love the crunching leaves beneath my feet and kicking the dry sticker balls that fall from the sweet gum trees. The scent of wood fires drifts in the rural air and the anticipation of the upcoming holidays trills through children and adults alike. Will it be too cold for princess costumes on Halloween? How many layers to wear for my alma mater homecoming football game? Thanksgiving’s coming, will it rain just like it always seems to do?

Winter brings its own special joy. The myriads of annoying-as-fuck insects are dead or dying. Temperatures drop to bitterly cold numbers. Just inhaling the air slices your lungs into ribbons, yet is still so intoxicating. There’s the fun of watching the old folk predict how harsh a winter we’ll get and whether or not snow will come. Usually we get no snow but this past winter we were surprised… often… eventually too often. And for some odd reason we always manage to get temperature spikes as high the mid-80s right in the middle of winter. It’s the weirdest thing I swear. There’s nothing more unusual to be taking a hike in the dead of winter and come across the odd snake or two because the heat has them (and you) confused as hell.

Spring is here now. The air is perfect for long evening walks and outdoor fun. Soon my worst nightmare will come true, just as it does every spring: the fucking caterpillars will appear. *shiver* I LOVE butterflies but I hate the stages that create them. Birds are singing singing everywhere… and shitting shitting everywhere… Fun fact: I have exactly one tree in my front yard, beside the driveway. I am beginning to think the birds either hate me or there’s a target painted on top of my van because whether I park directly beneath the tree or no where fucking near that bitch the birds drop bombs like no tomorrow.

Anyway, gnats are flying about getting into noses and eyes and buzzing around ears. Mosquitoes are breeding in the damp soil leftover from way too much unexpected snow during winter. Trees are just beginning to bud and blossom. The few that have flowered are outstandingly beautiful. Rivers, creeks and swamps are swollen from one of the wettest calendar years on record. Everything seems to be thriving. The kids are looking forward to the warmer weather and more outings on weekends to local farms, zoos and shelters. To them there’s nothing better than nuzzling your nose into a small furry kitten or being kissed by warm puppy breath. Nothing makes you feel better than to swing as high as you can, so high, but not too high, leaning back and feeling the sinking and swaying deep down in the pit of your stomach. Nothing compares to wrestling in the grass, picking flowers and studying countless pieces of gravel for mineral deposits. Dipping toes into still cold water in the creekbed and examining rocks for smoothness in the wet sands therein.

There’s something to love in every season. I look forward to the changes and surprises. As spring blossoms, so does my life and expectations. I hit a real low point the other week. So low that I wasn’t sure I could go on… wasn’t really even sure if I wanted to go on. But I fought my way through it and I won. I got words of advice from a priest, prayers and blessings, burned some sage and smudged.

I can’t get that low again. I have to be able to change with the tide, with the seasons. It’s time for a rebirth and spring cleaning.

I’m cleaning house y’all…

I’m taking control of my life and making serious changes.

And the first thing I did… was cut off my mom…

The second thing I did was boot out my dad…

I had to recognize my limitations. Simply put, I was doing too much, for too many, too frequently. That shit had to stop. I lost focus. I lost ME. I nearly lost my mind and with it, my life.

I repeat, that shit had to stop.

Time for change and refocusing on what’s most important: me and my girls.

I won’t be distracted or deterred.

I, quite simply, can’t afford it.

3.22.2010

Xavier...

Xavier and I met on the job. He was an armed guard at the gate. His presence, his physique, his voice… all mesmerized me. He was a very intimidating guy. He wowed me with his charm, his intellect, his humor. Every single thing about him was sexual. I don’t mean that he talked sex to me. I mean everything he said, did, walked, talked… it just reeked of sexuality. He could’ve been standing still in a blizzard with sixteen overcoats, four hats and mittens with smileys on the backs of the hands and it still would’ve oozed sensuality.


He talked of his life. Told me of his wife and daughter that was killed in an auto wreck. Talked of his family and roots in Lousiana. Spoke fluent Creole and was delighted that I could not only understand him but answer him back almost as fluently. He spoke of his previous careers, Navy reserve life, his goals and dreams. He met my daughter, something I’d never permitted any other man to do and he sang to her as she slept and read book after book to her before bedtime. He’d bring her treats and would hoist her onto his shoulders so he could take her to the neighborhood ice cream truck and buy her the biggest and best treat she laid her eyes on. Once she was tucked into bed and fast asleep he’d turn his attentions to me. He’d tell me how he lusted and craved my body and would ravish me with rough kisses and the passion I’d only dreamt of. There was no part of my body that was off limits to him and he’d take me, hard, fast, teasingly and roughly. Then he’d switch and be so tender that it would make me cry. Often, he never came, never finished; me, I’d almost faint from the heat and having so many orgasms I’d be hoarse from screaming. He was hands down the best lover I’d ever had. He was everything I wanted.

We’d do everything together. Talk all night, meet up before work the next morning, dinner in the evenings. He taught me a few Creole recipes and loved to help me cook in the kitchen, sneaking kisses when Jaalyn wasn’t looking. When he proposed, I thought life couldn’t get any better. I was ready to love again, ready for more kids, ready to be a stepmom to his adopted son.

Then cracks began to appear… Xavier was a loving man towards me but terribly possessive. If I stepped outside of what he deemed proper for me there’d be hell to pay. He never raised a hand to me but would eviscerate me with his tongue and I’d be in tears for hours afterwards. He was a mental mind wizard, always playing games and evaluating and testing me. He’d spy on me and accuse me of infidelity. Still, I’d brush it aside and take the love he gave me. Or the love I thought he gave me. Sex, though still fulfilling, was rougher and harder than anything I’d ever experienced outside of rape. He loved to pretend to choke me as he came, to put his full weight upon me and restrict any movement, any escape on my part. Stories he told me about his past became more embellished. His jealousy became worse, turned to rage in most cases. Eventually I got the guts to call it off with him, because he scared me, because it just wasn’t worth all the tears I cried. He stalked me for a while. Showing up at 2am banging on the door, calling nonstop, hanging up when I answered or vowing to kill any man I dared to let into my life aside from him. After 3 months of that, I moved. He terrified me and had long since gotten fired from our mutual place of employment.

A year later I saw him again… on the local news. Arrested in one county for felony threats, grand larceny, impersonating a police officer. Arrested in the city on similar charges, only misdemeanors this time. I was stunned and followed every word in the news and in the papers. More information followed. There was no dead wife and child. But there was a very real wife now. There was no wealthy family, no military career, no honor. He’d been captured when he attempted to take money from various women. This baffled me. Xavier was nothing short of generous with me. He never took money from me, always gave. More details followed. More lies exposed. Man, did I feel the fool. Yet, I still couldn’t shake the love for the man I knew he’d been. The man he was around me.

Jail. That’s where he ended up. After I was sure he was locked away, I delved a little deeper into his records and discovered the violence, the marriages, the other charges and the eventual petition for divorce from the wife. After he was released I saw him again. Repeatedly, around my apartment.

I moved again. And again.

And then I moved out here to the sticks. A place I don’t think he can find me.

And yes, despite it all…

I miss the sex.

3.21.2010

Rashad...

We met when he was almost 16 and I nearly 20. For him it was love at first sight, for me it took me a while to get over the age difference. But after a couple of dates and meeting his mom and sister I let go of my fears and plunged into a semi-serious relationship with him. His mom encouraged me to visit often, loving the fact that I was a nice, quiet girl that was in college and hard working. She taught me a lot about parenting, now that I think of it. My mom wanted me to abstain from sex until marriage. Shad’s mom felt that sex was inevitable. If you’re going to do it better to do it safely, privately, with the proper precautions. She inquired about my condom preference and as much as it embarrassed the hell out of me to admit it, I told her. She provided exactly what we needed and her son provided me hours of pleasure.


Rashad taught me boldness both in and out of the bedroom. He taught me not to be afraid of voicing my thoughts. He introduced me to a variety of music and was the first to expose me to Erykah Badu. He was so funny and bold and brash. But of course he was immature too. And jealous. But my God he was a great lover. The things that boy did to me makes me blush now. But, many of those things he did, I taught him.

Eventually though the immaturity issue drove us apart. I lacked the patience to deal with someone I now deemed to be a child. I hated to part from him. I cried and if memory serves me correct so did he. Four years later we had a chance meeting at a hospital. I had just finished visiting my grandfather and he was there for… I don’t recall. I was pregnant, but not showing and desperately unhappy with my relationship. He saw me at a distance, called to me and when I drew near to say hi he immediately kissed me, smothering my hello. He’d always done that to me, no matter where we were or who was around. It was one of the things I loved about him and missed. As guilty as I felt, I followed him home and sat talking to him about his relationship, about mine, about my pregnancy. He asked if I was happy with my life and I admitted I was not but I was committed to making it work. He asked if I loved him and I said yes. He asked if we could try our relationship again and I said no. One of the hardest decisions I ever made at the time. He pleaded and I just couldn’t… and I left.

I haven’t seen him since that night.

Until last week… in our local Gotcha! paper. The paper that is printed with photos of most wanted criminals.

Damn, Shad…

3.13.2010

The Long & Short of It..



So… life sucks donkey balls right about now.
Changes must be made but before I make them… can I get one last major Piss and Moan session? I feel the need to do it because, frankly, I have no one to talk to, no one to vent my frustrations on…

1. I hate, absolutely DETEST, my childrens’ father. I hate him because he has time, money, and lives the single life while I get homework, role modeling, PTO, tantrums and vomit. Conversely, I realize I have the better deal because I get the homework, role modeling, PTO, tantrums and vomit. Well, maybe not the vomit part. I hate him because he exists, because he refuses to allow my daughters to add my last name to theirs, because he doesn’t financially support them the way he should, because he misses every school play, every achievement, every report, every science fair project. Because he sees them when it’s convenient for him. because he badmouths me to them while drumming up support for himself and his girlfriend. Because he likes to show them off to his family and pretend he’s superdaddy. Because he only gets them on the Saturday after his payday so that he can try to outdo what I do on a regular basis. Because, because, because…

2. I’m fucking sick of school. I hate it. I don’t want to go on but I have to because I need to prove to my kids, Jaalyn in particular that it’s possible and good things will follow if you have your college degree. Why in God’s name I am double majoring, I have no clue. I’m a dumbass that’s also a glutton for punishment I suppose.

3. I have two pairs of jeans that fit me; I have one pair of shoes; an assortment of tshirts and a few sweaters. All came from thrift stores. I don’t know what it’s like to shop in the mall for myself. I don’t know what it’s like to buy anything new for myself.

4. I do not have my own room. I do not have my own bed. Last year Jaalyn began this thing where she wouldn’t sleep in her room, would sob and get me and my dad up a million times a night. Trinity was refusing to sleep in her toddler bed that was cousin close to my bed. One night I got frustrated and dragged my mattress upstairs to stop Jaalyn’s nocturnal wanderings long enough for us all to get some sleep. Yeah… like I said it was over a year ago. The room that was mine is now cluttered with junk and bullshit.

5. There isn’t a single room in the house where I can just go for some peace of mind or privacy. There’s no door the children won’t open. I never get peace. When it’s their bedtime, we all go to bed. I know I shouldn’t give in…

6. I’m so out of touch with myself. I get no joy from anything. I don’t indulge my old hobbies. Can’t concentrate long enough to read. Kids and dad monopolize the television.

7. I’m lonely. I want the American dream. I want the husband, more kids, financial stability. More importantly I want to be LOVED and cherished by someone other than my children. I want passion. I want to be loved. Period.

8. I want, no I need, more money. I’ve more bills than I can handle. I live within my means but simply put: I do too. Damned. Much. And the fucked up part? I don’t even get gratitude in return. Not a single thank you. Ever. That shit's about to change, starting today.

9. I’m unfamiliar with the woman I’ve become. I don’t love myself. I don’t like me. I don’t know what I enjoy. I’m not happy. I’m uncertain and nervous and I hate it.

10. I want another baby.

11. I want to move out of this awful, awful county. Nothing would make me happier than getting a (gasp!) doublewide on 5 acres of land far enough that I don’t have to worry about friends or family visiting. I’d love for it to have a brick foundation, decent sized deck, dog pen in the back yard and a swing set for the kids. Fully furnished home, new appliances, and a garden tub in a big bathroom. And to make it ultra country, a gravel driveway.

12. I want to be pleased sexually by someone that loves me intensely.

13. I want to be able to work because I want to not because I have to.

14. I want to stop procrastinating.

15. I want my dad out of my house and out of my life. This is very soon to become a reality... couldn't come at a more perfect time IMO.

16. I want to be able to tell my children freely what an insufferable, selfish ass their sire is and not feel guilty about it.

17. I want to be happy, focused, determined and THIN.
18. I want my energy back. I want my peace back. I want to have… I don’t know.

19. I want to be a kept wife. Cherished and treasured and oh so stable. I admit it and am not really ashamed of it at this point.

There’s so much that I want. So much I need to do. So many changes to be made. I have a habit of making everything harder than it has to be. Overanalyzing, worrying and then finally giving up and not doing anything. But I need peace in my life. I feel if I obtain it then everything else will fall into place. I want to be happy. I deserve to be happy. So do my kids. If I am happy, they will be too.

But how?

3.12.2010

Still Here...

I'm still here.

I'm not suicidal. Not really.

Just overwhelmed. Very much so.

Sorry if I scared the few of you that read this.

I've been letting a lot of people down lately. So this is no different.

3.11.2010

See here's the thing about suicide... It's an incredibly selfish thing to do. You're only thinking about yourself. About your pain. You're not thinking of the pain you'll cause someone else, however temporary it may be.

Things can't be all that bad. Right? Sure it seems like you're stuck in the same perpetual cycle, much like a hamster in the wheel. It never gets better, same shit always. The fact that it likely will never get better. Look back over your life; how many times have you felt joy? Compared to so, so much pain...

But you'd never see your children again. Never have arms to hold them. Eventually they'd forget you anyway but still. It'll hurt them for a while. Especially knowing that you offed yourself. That would bother them in the adult years.

You wouldn't have to worry about bills though. So many freaking bills. They just won't go away. They multiply. Jesus if people would only stop hounding you for money.

Maybe... maybe this is why you've had this fear/fascination thing with water. To be able to float, or sink or whatever. At least then, you'll be alone, at last.

All the privacy in the world. Peace beyond passion.

Beyond caring.

Beyond pain.

Beyond worries, beyond stress...

I don't want to go...

I'm so, so tired. Things never get better. Only more hopeless. I just don't know what to do anymore.

All I ever wanted was to be a good person, a good mother. I feel like I'm failing in everything.

I just don't know what to do anymore.

3.07.2010

Fiscally...

I fell off the blog wagon. Darn.

I'd meant to write everyday with the exception of the weekends. I'll do better, I promise.

The week wasn't a good one, but then again most weeks aren't really good weeks, especially the first week of the month. When the bills are due and the money isn't there... *sigh*

I'm just so fucking tired of it all, you know? I feel like  I'm stuck repeating the same cycle over and over again. Things look bright for a few fleeting moments and then back to the same old shit. I am so sick of worrying about money. I do my best to live within my means and every time there is something odd or far fetched that soaks up my income like a dry fucking sponge.

I want out.

Jesus... if it weren't for my kids... I don't know. I don't know what I'd do. Parenthood just put extra pressure on money woes doesn't it? The pressure of not letting them know you're stressed out of your mind, of not letting them know the utilities are about to be cut off (again), that the landlord will be pissed (again), that lunches and treats will be minimal (again). Hard enough to do the single parent gig without feeling like a failure on top of it all.

All this stress, all the time, all the odd occurances has turned me into something I swore I'd never become.

A martyr.

Fuck. I used to be the type that bemoaned the single mom stigma that every single parent must be worshipped and adored for simply overcoming or just dealing with the day-to-day stuff. I hated the term "Strong, Black, Single Mom" because it seemed redundant and banal. What a fool I was. This shit is hard. Very hard. Especially when you don't have the other parent really supporting you like he should.

And that other parent issue... dude. Don't get me started. Granted, he has come a long way since Jaalyn was born. Since Trinity was born. But it wasn't without yelling, screaming and practically crying blood tears on my part.  Now he's stepped his game up because he has a woman in his life to impress; I recognize (now) everything he's been doing over the last several months to be the exact same thing he did with me when we were dating. For all that he does now, it's still a far cry from what it should be, especially when it comes to child support.

I'll put it out there: I went to the Dept of Social Services website and plugged some numbers into the child support worksheet. I know he makes more than I do, so I estimated his income to be about 5K more than mine. Then I did it at the same income as mine. Either way, the amount he ought to pay (around $2,100) is a far cry from what I receive (around $600). His income being more than mine or the same as mine did not change the overall contribution amount more than $100 if that.

That's a huge fucking difference.

The thing is, I am afraid to take him to court. We have not gone since Jaalyn was 13 months old. Back then I got screwed, royally because I was the more responsible parent (the judge's words, not mine). By law all he's required to give me is $81 a week. When Trinity was a year old, he voluntarily increased it so that we wouldn't go to court. He knows I'd rather keep things out of the court, I know he dreads being forced into a court, so we settled our differences ourselves. I didn't want him to take revenge on me if I did take him to court, by trying to fight me for custody and visitation. I'm almost certain he'd do it. And because I'm not entirely convinced I'd win I've staved off dragging him into court.

But now... I'm not so sure anymore. The worst of it is that if he does try to take retribution and take me back to court for visitation I could potentially be forced into a holiday schedule of sorts, meaning I'd have them every other holiday instead of every holiday. I couldn't bear to miss Christmas or birthdays or whatever simply because their dad decides to be an asshole and get me back for forcing him to pay up for his responsibilities. But I just don't know what to do anymore. I really don't.

Either way, even if I did take him to court it doesn't do a thing to help out this month. This month I'm screwed. I don't have rent. I don't have my car payment. I don't have tuition money. I don't have utilities.

I am SO fucked.