Finally Letting Go

After much trepidation, I decided to let someone go. It was gnawing at me for sometime, but I know when I have reached my limit.

I believe the breakdown of this relationship happened when I was removed from category of friend and placed in a box. I was categorized as someone to handle trauma or someone to call when the poop hits the fan.

Once the tragedy is over, I am no longer needed.

I hate one-sided relationships.

Fortunately, everyone has the capacity to decide how much abuse he or she will take. I decided that I will not be used. I have let go.

I am free. I am happy & because I let you go at the right time, I dont hate you. I wish you all the best.

Sister from another mother & father

I was never blessed to have blood sisters, but I don't feel any different.

Time

How many times can a man turn his head and pretend that he just doesn't see? A man hears what he wants to hear, and disregards the rest. Disregard and pretend. The cycle will never end.

So much to do, So little time.

I have some big projects underway but alot of things are setting me back. So many little things, so many big things. So many things.

Most computers, when they are overloaded with files and tasks, need to be defragmented. Unfortunately humans don't have that function. I need that little defragment pill. Any sellers?

Anyway, My company is undergoing a MAJOR overhaul. Everything is about to change and the one thing holding me back is finances. I have funded my own business from the ground up and that has led to slow growth. The potential is there, but the money is not.

It's hard, given my restrictions, to get a loan from a traditional bank. Its also difficult to woo angel investors.

I am stepping out on a leap of faith and doing something that I never thought I would do....

A brutal reminder to be good to your kids

I read this astonishing obituary at gawker.com.

 Marianne Theresa Johnson-Reddick born Jan 4, 1935 and died alone on Aug. 30, 2013. She is survived by her 6 of 8 children whom she spent her lifetime torturing in every way possible. While she neglected and abused her small children, she refused to allow anyone else to care or show compassion towards them. When they became adults she stalked and tortured anyone they dared to love. Everyone she met, adult or child was tortured by her cruelty and exposure to violence, criminal activity, vulgarity, and hatred of the gentle or kind human spirit.

On behalf of her children whom she so abrasively exposed to her evil and violent life, we celebrate her passing from this earth and hope she lives in the after-life reliving each gesture of violence, cruelty, and shame that she delivered on her children. Her surviving children will now live the rest of their lives with the peace of knowing their nightmare finally has some form of closure. 

Most of us have found peace in helping those who have been exposed to child abuse and hope this message of her final passing can revive our message that abusing children is unforgiveable, shameless, and should not be tolerated in a "humane society". Our greatest wish now, is to stimulate a national movement that mandates a purposeful and dedicated war against child abuse in the United States of America.

Marianne Theresa Johnson-Reddick, born January 4, 1935, died last month, to the relief and comfort of the children whom she spent a lifetime (in their words) "torturing in every way possible." Those children, now grown, marked her passing by submitting the most chilling obituary you will ever read to her local newspaper, the Reno Gazette-Journal. While it appears to have been scrubbed from the paper's website, here's the full text, as it appeared online earlier today:

Either A Blessing or a Lesson

In retrospect, everyone brings something useful to my life, even if it was a negative experience.There was much to be gained and things to be learned.

Happy

I have many things to be happy about. I have even more things that I am blessed with. My kids are amazing.

Its funny to think about how I planned my life and where I thought I would be today. The life I lead is nowhere near the life I imagined.

Children were not in my plan. My husband and I even discussed this before we married. Because of my childhood, I never wanted to bring a life into this world. The chance of me messing up this persons life was too great. I had no idea how to parent. I didn't want to take the risk.

Settling down in my hometown was not an option. I wanted to travel, see,  my  career goal was to be a journalist. I wanted to work for Fox or BBC reporting on global issues.

Islam, always in the back of my mind, but never a priority. I didn't see myself changing.

Then something changed.

While in college, I rediscovered Islam after abandoning it when I was 15. My family is not Muslim, but I have always been drawn to Islam. I always felt a connection with Islam. This time the conversion stuck. I wanted to learn more, do more and immerse myself in worship.

I got married to my boyfriend of 3 years, who also because Muslim after attending the mosque. We started a life together and I got pregnant with my first son a year later. It all happened so fast. I didnt have time to sit back and reassess my goals.

I planned, Allah planned. He won.

With great difficulty I settled into my new existence. My life would never be the same. My career goals were put on the back burner and I settled into motherhood and being a stay at home wife.

This new life was difficult for me. I struggled to find myself for 4 years. I was depressed because this is not what I planned.

A few years later and after many adjustments, I decided that I would carve out my own happiness. I didnt know at the time that happiness is something you have to work to attain. you learn that as you get older and wiser.

Happy is not something that falls in your lap. Happiness is a goal to achieve. Something to strive for.

I decided to carve out my own career and make something happen for myself. I decided to educate myself and be the best mom I can be for my children. I decided to work on having a strong marriage. I decided to be happy.

I'm not traveling the world, but my company is worldwide. I'm not childless, but my children are everything to me. I am happy to be a mom. They bring me so much joy. They are truly a blessing. My children helped bring my family closer and I thank Allah for placing them in my care everyday. I guard them with my life and I sacrifice for them.

I am religious and deeply in love with my faith. It defines me and how I conduct myself. It has forced me to face my issues and deal with my shortcomings. It has restored my hope in mankind and all the wonderful possibilities in the world. Without it, I am nothing.  It is me.

Today, I feel hopeful and I will continue to carve out my happy.

Excerpt from my novel

This is big of me. I have to give myself a mini applause. Those who know me personally know that an applause is my way of acknowledging progress. For a few years I have been writing a novel loosly based on family events. My family , like all others has its fair share of skeletons, but  there's always that one family that stands out, ya know? Like Honey Boo Boo's family! (P.S. I have NEVER watched that show!)

Chapter 1: Lille Mae

 Durham North Carolina 19 and 19.

“Momaaa!” called Addie Mae. She was about to give birth to her oldest baby girl. Addie was seasoned birther by this time, having birthed 4 babies already. This time was different,  she was screaming too loudly, just wailing and a wailing. Couldn't get it right. This baby is just stubborn, it wont come down. She was starting to feel weak and  the air was thick, making it hard to breath..... Loosing too much blood. She never had a hard time with the other ones.

By the time the baby was born, Addie passed out on the barn house floor. Addie was lucid at first, just  getting a glimpse of her new chocolate baby but then the room started spinning and to her relief became a peaceful black.

Cholena

Poor Addie should be done with this birthing. She was getting old. At 32, she should have been on her 10^th child by now. But she got married late and is now making up for lost time. Her mammy  Cholena,  fixed her up all right. She been midwifing babies since she was 16. Cholena was a cripple. She wasn't fit for school,  so her parents sent her to Mituna the medicine woman. Since Cholena was 8 years old, she would go around the settlement with the Shay woman to learn the tribal medicine. When the old Shay died Cholena took the lead. Now, everybody goes to Cholena. She serves the role of town doctor, people go to her when something goes wrong. 

 Cholena got married at the age 15 to Charles, a freeman's son. No one on the reservation wanted a cripple for a wife so for a long time Cholena resigned to being a spinster. The first time she saw Charles, Cholena was on her way to the town store. He was shoeing horses with his father by the road. Later that week, Charles and his father showed up on the reservation to do business with the elders.  Over time, Charles and his father became close to the people of the reservation, so when Charles expressed interest in Cholena, the marriage was encouraged.  

         They had 8 children. 5 boys and 3 girls, Addie being the oldest.

Gathering her herb sachet, she made a salve and rubbed Addie up and cleaned her with a infused mix of water and pine needles. She saved the after birth to dry out and grind.  She then tended to the fussy baby who had been wailing continuously since the birth. The baby was healthy with a good set of lungs. But during these times, nothing as set in stone and a baby could die at any time.

Cholena said a silent prayer over the baby and spread a little molasses on the newborn's gums. She left the baby with Martha, Addie's oldest girl. After sleeping for some time, Addie woke right on up. Still tired from the pains of labor, she willed herself to a sitting position and pulled her wet hair off her face. Cholena nudged her “What you gon name 'er? Addie shot up some more, looking confused. Lord, is this baby a girl, dont let this baby be another girl.  “Mamma? What you mean what I’m gon name HER?”  

“Child, you had a girl, can’t do nothing about it!” Addie didn't want another girl. Not round these parts. Not a GIRL! Too much trouble for a girl, hard work, nasty menfolk to watch out fah.  Besides, Lonie not gon like this. This his 3^rd daughter.

With a burden settling over her heart, Addie sighed, “Ise just gone name her Lillie Mae.  Lille Mae Wiggins.”

Religion made me do it

I trained myself not to give second chances. If you hurt me,  I am done. I wont give a person a second chance to hurt me again. I dont care.

Being abandoned my my mother made it easier to erase her from my life. I was perfectly fine not having a relationship with her at all. As a child, I don't have any good memories of her. I associated her with pain and disappointment.

When I was 19, I accepted Islam as my religion. While learning more about my new faith, I was surprised to learn so much about the status of women and mothers especially. I learned that to cut ties of kinship was discouraged. I learned that one of the ways to enter paradise was to be kind and generous to ones mother.

I couldn't come to terms with that. I didn't want to accept it. Religion mandated it.

Eventually, after the birth of my first son, I folded. I needed to feel closeness to her. I felt as if I may have been able to understand her better since I was now a mother. It was a disaster. We were not ready for eachother.

Years later, we tried again and it stuck. I started to feel more of a connection with her, although our desire to connect was there, important issues were swept under the rug. I didn't know that they would surface later. It surfaced in the worst way.

The Day I Lost Everything.

I don't remember how I learned that my father died. I just remember knowing and having the feeling that my world was about to end. He was a buffer between me and the abuse my great grandmother would dish out to me. I didnt know much about his lifestyle or how he died at the time. All I knew is that something serious was happening and that I was involved.

On the day of the funeral,  I remember receiving alot of attention. My fathers brothers, my uncles telling me that they would be a father to me. They told me that they would take care of me. I remember my aunt, my fathers younger sister screaming and crying. She wanted her brother. That's all she wanted. Meanwhile, my second grade teacher was taking the miniature doves and stuffing them in her purse. I remember my fathers girlfriend wanting to sit with me in the limo. I didn't know her all that well. She took my head and laid it in her lap. She stroked my hair. I let her.

I remember the white casket and his pewter grey suit. I remember the doves and the flowers. I remember looking at his face and seeing my own features reflecting back. I remember thinking that I should cry, but I cant. I chose to look sad instead. That is the only emotion I could show. I dont remember my mother. I try to conjure up her face on that day, but I cant. I know she was there.

I remember wearing a frilly white dress. We all wore white. The limos were white. The flowers were white.

The reception was held at my grandmothers house, my fathers mother.The adults were becoming overbearing and I decided to hang out with my cousins. I needed the comfort of children. Later, I remember wanting to go home. I lived a few blocks away and I asked my cousins to walk me around the block. I remember feeling happy to be with my cousins as we skipped down the road. I almost forgot that we just buried my father.

As we neared my home, I knew something was wrong. There were fire trucks lined down my block. I saw black smoke rising to the sky. I paused. I couldn't walk any further. I just had a feeling. My cousins urged me on, they were eager to know what was happening.

As I neared my house, I realized that the house on fire was mine. The entire upstairs was engulfed in black smoke. The front yard was littered with charred furniture and burned clothing. My great-grandmother was in the ambulance with a mask on her face, looking pale and frightened. My grandmother and great uncle both yelling at my mother. My cousin and my brother looking lost and confused.

I stood on the sidewalk and cried. I finally cried because it hit me. In one day. I lost everything.

I was 8 years old.

Risk

There are times when I want to feel connected to other people, but my past experiences make we not want to get invested.  Sometimes, I need a little company, but most of the time, I cant be bothered. There is a risk. I don't like risk. I like security. I like the known, not the unknown. I don't like the maybe, or the perhaps.

Alot of my childhood was suspended in the unknown.

I didn't know if I would ever truly make it out of the hell that was my existence. I never knew when I would get the next beating. I never knew when I would be allowed to wear clean clothes to school. I didn't know if I would ever get friends. I didnt know if I would ever have a loving and attentive parent.  I didnt know.

I spent alot of time training myself to keep my emotions at bay. Now, I dont know how to show them appropriately. It can be perceived as hardened or not caring. I do care, I just dont know how to express it.

I hate the feeling of vulnerability. I will never show this.
Crying is something I reserve for certain people. This is under control.
Laughing comes easy. Even if the situation is grim. Laughter is my friend.
I am at most time poker faced.

Not good when you need to take the risk of meeting someone new. I have to learn how to open up and show people who I am without the fear of someone taking advantage of me. I need to take the risk.

This is my time

 I have a second job.

I fix. That is what I do. I know I can do it well. I know I am a source of advice and calm. I also know that while I am able to fix others, I am often left void. I can fix others, therefore I cannot fix myself.

I understand that I am a complicated individual. That cant be helped. I, me, she a product of a dead father and a absentee mother. I was raised by an abuser, one who used her hands to convey her emotions. Often I was the target. This forced me to grow up so fast, I had to think on my toes. I had to figure things out and take care of myself.

A childhood is something I never had. I don't remember a time where I never worried, planned or made sure things were in place for myself. I only had me.

These emotions were never dealt with. They reside in me. They are a part of who I am. No one believed in me, or encouraged me. No one told me I could be whatever I wanted.

There are those who fold and those who hold. I held.

So, there is this illusion that I have it all together, that I have all the answers. I don't. I don't have the capability to accept help from others, or rely on others. My husband does not like this side of me. I was taught to only rely on myself. I learned early on that sad emotions are signs of weakness. I keep it in. I learned how to be a chameleon to adapt and survive.

I find myself in the position of adviser among some of the women in my life. I feel an obligation to them, they need me and I am there, often robbing myself of needed healing. I feel that I have to give them this part of me. I cant explain it.

I have never been mothered, so the desire for a mother is always lingering. I cant be mothered. It's too late. Yet I find the need for someone to guide me, someone who knows that I am capable of vulnerability to hear me. I am surrounded by people, yet I am utterly alone.

Alone in the sense that those who lean on me for emotional support are incapable of providing it to me. They cannot help me and I don't want it from them. The person who I want to provide this is not capable. She has needs of her own, so where does that leave me?

While I cant have all the answers to my own life, I have decided that I don't have the answers for anyone else. I am only human. I am imperfect. I have needs that go ignored so I can be in service of others.

No more. No more.

I will focus on me, make me a better person, learn to fix me, invest in me, believe in me, lift me, cherish me, love me. This is my time.