My Crush Groove

So I’m in a very different space right now.  As I shared on Friday, I have found myself face to face with a man whom I am actually attracted to.  And not just the Oh My This Man is Fine! attraction.  I would actually like to get to know him better.  It has actually taken me by surprise because I have not been looking for it, AND it doesn’t happen to me often.  It’s even more of a shock because it puts me in unchartered territory.  This is the first man I like who I am not finding by default or rebound.  I have been a serial monogamist throughout my life.  As I’ve said, I don’t fall often, but when I do, I tend to move straight into exclusive relationship status and remain there for years.  Each relationship has developed out of my need for validation and recovery from a previous one.  Yet here I am, 34 and experiencing my first non-rebound crush.  And I haven’t even bothered to act on it because right now that isn’t even important to me.  I still think there are some things I need to work on before I involve myself in a relationship.  Thankfully, I am in a place where I am much more aware of myself. 

Experiencing this crush has made me even more aware of myself, more specifically, how I have approached relationships and how I have viewed myself.  I still have some deficits in the area of self-esteem.  As I shared on Friday, I have never been good at seeing the good I have to offer.  I tend to see what I need to work on, what I haven’t done, and what I am not.  I have been doing much better with this issue, then I found myself crushing on Mr. Mister, and all of those self-deprecating thoughts began to surface.  First I started with the Why would he want me? questions.  In my mind, this man can have probably any woman he wants.  The thought that he could actually want me is one I hadn’t allowed myself to vision.  Logically, I am well aware that this is just some frackernackle bull, but my ego still likes to pose this question to me—mainly because my ego is sooo resistant to change and these are the questions I entertained for such a long time.  I even began to have the body issues again.  Now I’m well aware that most people tend to look at their bodies and see imperfections.  However, I was always a bit more extreme.  I never liked my body. It was never good enough for me.  It was too skinny, not nearly curvy enough, too tall, not tall enough.  And then it became too big, curvy, but not curvy in the right places, and just downright unacceptable.  After the birth of my daughter, I became extremely despondent as far as my body was concerned.  I hated the stretch marks that appeared and I did get that c-section pooch.  At that point, all I wanted was the body I spent all of that time hating.  I went through a terrible bout of post partum depression, and even though I was back to my pre-pregnancy weight by my 6-week checkup, I had gained back all my pregnancy weight by the time my daughter was 1 year old (in spite of all my exercise).  After my divorce, my weight came down and I was able to get to a place of appreciation of my body.  My stretch marks are not really that bad and my pooch isn't a pooch anymore.  Actually, when I show my stomach to others and complain, they give me the pat.  You know the pat.  The  pity ridden Oh this poor delusional thing pat that people give you on you thigh, shoulder or back when they feel like you have not even an ounce of common sense.  But that aside, I was able to get to a place where I felt like I looked pretty damn good for a woman who’s given birth, and who was by no means a bounce back chick (You know, Beyonce ‘nem)!  However, upon finding myself in this new crush groove, my ego started firing those body shots. Who would want to look at that, Ugh look at your stomach! ?!

Now I'm well aware that these are completely unhealthy and dangerous thoughts to have.  And this is why it's so great that I’m in this new space because now I don’t actually believe my ego.  However, I have noticed that I do entertain my ego a little longer than I have been recently.  This is all telling me that I’m not quite ready to be in relations with a man on that level.  For me, my relationships have always been my source of validation.  I made each man I partnered with responsible for my entire sense of self-worth.  If he chose me, I was worthy and better than other women.  I was now loveable, attractive, and great.  If he was unfaithful (which they all were), that meant I wasn’t good enough; I was lacking in some area(s).  Yet, I would stay in a quest to get proof that I was worth more.  And when that proof wasn’t delivered to me, I would end the relationship and begin anew with someone else almost immediately, now making it this man’s turn to build me up.  It was a vicious cycle that only eroded my self esteem even more.  What I have since learned is that because I was in that frame of mind, I sent out the type of energy that only attracted men who would not value me. They couldn’t because I didn’t value myself.  I placed a terrible burden upon those men, and I betrayed myself in the process. What I know today is that I am the only one who can build or tear myself down.  I don’t want to make another human being responsible for my self worth. And let’s face it, that mere mortal would fail anyway. 

I’d like to believe that I am different now.  I know better, so I will do better.  I’m not looking for a savior anymore.  Now I’m looking for something else and since I’m now different, I expect that.  However, upon recognizing these monstrous thoughts that have been creeping up, I am seeing that I'm not quite as different as I'd like to be.  I still have some work to do and I'm ok with that.  So I say that all to say that while I do feel I was caught totally off guard by my new crush, I’m actually quite thankful for it.  It has brought things I need front and center.  If nothing ever transpired between he and I, I’ll forever be thankful to him because he’s already helped to make me a better person.  

No Flowers For Me

I’ve been so busy with travel and spending time with my little one that I have not been keeping an accurate account of my thoughts and activities. But the beautiful thing about writing is that there is no expiration date, so to speak, so I can always stop and write about things.  Well last month, I experienced something that I thought was an incredible display of love.  My bestie and I went to a party.  I know that doesn't sound like that would be such a moving experience, but it wasn't just any kind of party.  It was a celebration of life party for the owner of the salon we both go to.  His name is Phillip McCain, and while he doesn’t personally do either of our hair, he’s always been extremely courteous and kind whenever we’ve been there.  I have never heard a bad word about him.  Each of his employees seems to hold him in the highest esteem.  But Phillip now has Stage 4 Cancer.  I am not particularly sure as to what kind, but Stage 4 of any kind has got to be pretty somber.  It was actually held at the salon, and as I understand, it was at his request.  I was told he said he wanted to gather all the people he loved and who in turn loved him to celebrate.  It was a beautiful event.  The salon was packed! There were even crowds of folks outside. There was food, libations, music, and dancing.   As Phillip’s cancer is currently in stage 4, he was of course rather weak, he was unable to move around, and so he sat on a couch on the upper deck of the salon.  Towards the end of the night, there was a beautiful slideshow presentation, showcasing his life and there was not a dry eye in the building.  I really thought it was a beautiful display of love for this man.

My best friend, however, disagreed.  She felt the night was extremely depressing and that “they” were wrong for having him sit on a couch all night.  I told her it was by his request but that didn’t seem to make a difference.  Another friend of ours was in agreement with her. They both felt that it was in poor taste and depressing.  Personally, I think they were just uncomfortable with the display.  But it’s all a matter of perspective.  I probably would have been in agreement with her 4 years ago.  I was terribly uncomfortable regarding sickness and death.  Now I recognize that for me, going through the devastating loss of my dad and seeing how all of us who claimed to love him reacted in the aftermath, left me feeling differently.  I personally have never liked funerals.  If you want to talk about depressing, I find them completely depressing.  And I don’t find them to be depressing because of the obvious sadness and crying.  It’s just that I’ve never liked the way they work.  I’ve never liked sitting a corpse in front of people on display, singing depressing and somber songs, and hearing a “word” about death to be an appropriate way to celebrate someone’s life.  My bestie is already aware that should I leave this plane prior to her, I do not, under any uncertain terms, want a funeral.  I do not want my body on display.  I do not want sad songs to be sung.  I want a party.  She is to throw an elaborate party with all the fixings.  I want all my favorite music being played and all my favorite food to be served.  A slideshow can be showed and there can be allotted time for people to get up and speak, but the caveat is that they can only tell a happy story.  They have to say what they love most about me, or talk about their favorite moment with me.  I don’t mind tears being shed (if they are authentic), but I don’t want the occasion to be a somber one.  I want dancing and laughter and merriment.  She knows she is to follow this to the letter; otherwise I will haunt her for the rest of her life.  And she also knows I don’t want any flowers!  No flowers at my party.  I’d rather have all my flowers while I’m here on this side.

I think too often, we spend our time with those we love creating drama, focusing on what we don’t like, and living as if we will never have to say goodbye.  If you ask me (which you really didn’t, but it’s my blog so I’ll answer imaginary questions if I want to), there aren’t enough hugs, enough smiles, enough laughter, enough peaceful disagreements, and acceptance between loved ones.  Too many are not in peace when left to face the aftermath of their loved ones departure.  And I’m not referring to grief.  Grief is natural and inevitable.  I’m talking about all the residual feelings that are left: the guilt, the shame, the regrets and all over what wasn’t said or done or what could have been said and done better.  While we all must forgive ourselves and recognize that we do the best that we can, I think there are instances where we can agree we sometimes opt to not do better, even when we know we should.  Sometimes we do it out of fear, sometimes it’s pride, but whatever our reasons, in my humble opinion, they’re not good enough.  That’s why I thought Phillip’s party was a beautiful display.  Why should everyone wait until he’s gone to celebrate him, show up for him, and pay respects to him?  He’s here today.  Isn’t it better to tell him while he’s here?  Shouldn’t we all do that?  And again, I get it’s a matter of perspective.  But when I leave this earth, I don’t want anyone to bring flowers.  If you love me and you feel like you want to showcase that love, give me my flowers while I’m here. 

 *Incidentally, if anyone is interested, a love offering can be made for Phillip McCain* 

through PayPal at loveofferingforphillip@yahoo.com or

checks can be made payable to Phillip McCain c/o Toss the Hair Salon and Spa

60 East 13^th Street

Chicago, IL  60605

Attention:  Robert Lewis

Why Should I Care?

                                I gotta say this could very well be one of the best things you could teach your kid (language aside). 

Before I begin, I just have to say that this scene still cracks me up!  I have to admit that I did receive a speech very similar if not identical to this from him on many occasions in my life.  Seeing as how it was so colorfully stated, you’d think I’d have really taken it to heart.  I think on some level I did, but alas, as Ced the Entertainer described Luther Vandross’ curl in the Kings of Comedy; it just “wasn’t quite right” with me.  I listened to what he said, but I didn't really hear it.  How could I?  I didn't really know what I was listening to because I hadn't really experienced it yet.

  So this past Sunday was Father’s Day and I must admit it was a semi-bittersweet day for me.  It’s amazing how this one day never seemed like a big deal to me until my father passed away.  If he were alive, odds are we might not have even spent the day together.  Oh sure I would have seen him to give him his card and gift (which would probably would have been some crazy novelty gift like a magic trick from his favorite magic store, a laughing pin, or something grotesque like a farting monkey—he really did love that stuff), but he probably would have gone off to do his own thing like play golf, or go to the gun range, or better yet, go sit on his boat. And that would have been fine because I would have said “It’s your day and you should spend it as you want.”  But now all I want to do is spend the day with him.   I’m so eerily aware of the fact that my reason for celebrating the day is no longer on this physical plane and the only thing I can say about that is that it sucks.  Yet in the midst of it all, as weird as it sounds, I can honestly say that I felt pretty darn good.  I’m grateful that I’m now at the point in my grief where I can smile more than I cry.  I can feel grateful for the time we spent together rather than feel sad for the time we don’t get to share.  I was able to fondly remember so many of our infamous head to head moments and laugh as I recognize just how much alike we truly are.  And even now, I can still hear him talking to me.  What he was speaking of in the above scene is so fitting because for quite a while, that was one of the things I could hear him telling me. 

Everyone who has passed high school (well nowadays, everyone who’s at least made it to the 5^th grade) has experienced not being liked or being negatively talked about.  And let’s be honest, it isn’t a good feeling to know that people are using less than flattering words to talk about you.  More times than not, it’s usually easier to brush off the negative remarks of others if we: don’t like or know the person, can find something equally or even more disparaging to say about the other person.  But why must we resort to playing games or the tit for tat tactics in order to be at peace with what someone else says about us?  In other words, why should we or why do we even care?

I’ve heard it said that you only care about what someone says about you because you think it’s true.  I’m not so sure I entirely agree with that.  I think there are moments where that can be true, but overall, I think most times it just hurts.  It hurts to hear negative (especially negative and false) comments about you. It especially hurts when you know the intent of such comments is to tear you down.  I know I had a terrible time dealing with the after shock of other’s negative comments about me.  And I struggled mainly because I was a grade A people pleaser who only wanted juices and berries, no chemicals in my life (Shout Out to Prince Akeem!). I was very guilty of thinking that other people were like me, so I couldn’t imagine sitting around talking negatively about someone just for the fun of it, just out of spite, jealousy, or my own misery. And for me, the negativity has always had a tendency to come not from those with whom I have minimal to no connection with, but those who at one point were closest to me.  My dad always warned me that no one has the power to hurt you like those closest to you.  I understand that today more than ever. 

You see my dad was my protector.  He protected me from a lot of drama and BS.  Folks didn’t play around him.  They knew he could be a force to reckon with (plus he was rich) so most of the time, people were on their best behavior.  While I knew there would be people who would want to use me, or who wouldn’t like me, I didn’t think those people would be close to me.  Oh boy was I wrong!  Once my dad passed away, much was revealed to me.  It was as if I had been asleep in a coma and then I woke up with all of my senses in hyper drive.   And once that happened, I reached a point from which I will never be able to return.  But the good thing is that I’ve actually learned my lesson in not caring about what others say about me.  And to be honest, I didn’t get here on my own.  I have to thank some people who probably didn’t even intend to help me.  They’re my relatives.  And it’s not all of them.  It’s some.  And it’s the few whom I actually thought the most of.  One of those people is someone I took under my wing, brought into my home when things got bad with her mom, and have been there for since she was born.  One of those people gave birth to me.  Some of those people I call “Auntie” and “Cousin”.  And I love these people dearly (even today), so when I first learned of their betrayal, I was beyond hurt.  I couldn’t fathom that this is how they saw me.  And when did they start this?  It would be a while before I realized that they probably always have.

 

Well these people have no problem lying on me, and talking about me as negatively as they can.  And I really can't say enough how hurtful it was.   When it would get back to me about something I supposedly said, it was so far from sounding anything like me that I couldn’t believe anyone would actually believe I said those things!  Yet I still fought like mad to see past it and hope that they would see me and love me and change.  I still chose to cling to my naiveté, hoping that because my intentions were pure, theirs would be as well.  I was a crying fool for a while.  I mean tear stained face, bloody red eyed, snot nosed, crying mess.  I felt betrayed, yet I wanted my betrayers to tell me they didn’t mean it and they loved me so we could go on acting as if nothing happened.  And then it hit me.  I don’t know the exact moment it came, but my epiphany arrived.  I realized that all of these people were CHOOSING to be this way.  They were not being coerced.  They were not being tricked.  They were making conscious choices to treat me as they were and they didn’t care that they were hurting me. What in DEE HAYLE?!  And you mean to tell me I’m sitting here crying over these people?  This had to stop!

 So first I became angry.  And if you’ve learned anything about anger, you know that the main person you are angry with is yourself.  And so I was.  I was mad at myself for caring.  I was mad at myself for being so kind and good-hearted.  I wanted to be someone else. I didn't want to be the nice person with the good heart who only wanted good things for everyone.  But the problem was that I couldn’t give someone so much power that they had the ability to make me become someone I wasn’t.  And then, I went deeper within.  I took a closer look at those people and then my anger dissipated and I was actually able to feel compassion.  If we all take a closer look at the sources of our defamation, we would see that there really is no reason to give a shiny new Farfegnugen what they say.  In my experience, those who were spending a great deal of time talking negatively about me have been very petty and negative people to begin with.  They usually haven’t had much going (so they believe) as they seemed to much rather prefer talking badly about others than actually doing anything for themselves, and they are cowards.  They’d much rather lie and talk about me behind my back and then try to manipulate me into feeling like it’s my fault than to simply let me know that they don’t like me.  Seriously, if you have something to say about a person, you may as well say it to their face, and as Kevin Hart’s Uncle Richard, Jr. would say, “Say it with your chest!” at that.  So when I examined this I recognized that not only were they spreading lies, but once I moved past the titles they hold in my life; none of them are people who I would really like to be around.  So why was I spending so much time lamenting over what they were saying about me?  I had some people advising me to watch what I say and censor myself and I can see where they were coming from.  But I felt like that was still changing myself for them.  I stand by the words I speak because I know that I carefully choose my words.  I don’t just fly off the handle saying things for the sake of hearing myself speak.  My intentions are pure.  I speak truthfully and with Love.  I don’t seek to tear anyone down.  So I no longer mind if another person chooses to purposefully misconstrue what I have said all to try to defame my character.  I recognize that they are only succeeding at defaming their own.  Besides, I realized that they were probably talking about me all along anyway so if I don’t give them anything to say (which I really wasn’t anyway), they’ll just make something up (which they were doing). 

I think I had such difficulty in this area because it seemed for me that my lesson approached too quickly upon the heels of too much change.  See for me, my dad’s death brought forth a hailstorm of change. It wasn’t just that my father died.  When my father died, many of my relationships followed suit (as you see from what I have just shared).  And this was before I had matured to be able to recognize that relationships are simply containers for growth.  So once you outgrow one, the container is removed.  But at that time, my dad’s death was more than enough change for me so I was fighting like mad to hang on to whatever familiar pieces I could.   I finally recognized that it was my resistance to all of the change; as opposed to what was actually being said about me; that had me so upset.  Once I stopped assigning a value to the words and actions of everyone else, stopped looking for those people to be what I hoped, accepted them all for who they are, and simply allowed things to be, I became content.  It doesn’t bother me now when I hear something I supposedly said or I hear what has been said about me.  I actually feel a little flattered.  That means these people are that concerned with the affairs of little ole me.  That means they see something worthwhile in me.  That means I'm shining way too bright for them.  Why else would they try so hard to darken my light?And that’s what we all have to remember.  People will talk about us until the day we die.  And then they’ll talk about us in our death.  While I’m sure most of us would like the words spoken about us to be positive and full of love, the most important words that are spoken are the ones which will come from us.