My photo
Read my blog, listen to my shows, read my books...then you'll know me. Thanks.


Keeping My Promise. The constant, almost never ending battle.

A few days ago, maybe a week, whenever I said it, I said I don't write enough, and I would return back to the roots of this blog. It isn't a bad idea considering I go through shit more than most. I can start out my day minding my business and people just start throwing shit at you, like you're a fly or something.

This morning when I woke up, I had a conversation, alone, by myself, with my mother, heard the voices of my Godfather and Tuesday before rolling over wishing I could wake up next to someone who could understand my complexities, but recognize me for the amazing person that I am. I try and refrain from speaking out of turn because I know the damage that words they can do. Sticks and stones will break your bones, but words can too, especially if it's the truth.

I wanted to call my uncle and tell him that I wanted to move there. But I rely on him way too much, just as my mother does help me patch my long term emotional dilemmas, when I'm the one that needs to deal with them head on and continue to carve my path of responsibility for self.

I hate her. She called me in the middle of the night to complain about things that were undone. Things that she could do herself. The older I get, the more I notice the trends of life; my Grandmother raised me while my mother worked (which is all she'll ever know how to do, because that's all she's ever done). I have to raise Essence...why? Because both of her parents are so use to being irresponsible, delegating their responsibilities on others, then blaming them when the shit turns out from how they planned it. I am my Grandmother, 20 years ahead. That ends today.

I didn't have kids, I don't want kids - and it's not my fault she caught the wrong semen, from what I understand, from her mouth, in her opinion twice, in a 20 year gap. Irresponsibility. How do you manage to make the same mistake, twice, over a 20 year time span? I have nothing to do with that. In my family having children is a curse. That's why God made me gay so I can break this shit...

Somehow, it's my fault she washed through 100,000 in a years time period with nothing to show for it. She's angry. She's miserable. She's bitter. And all of the things that she is, I am, was and no longer want to be. All of this stems from her father beating her mother and not being validated by her family. All of this stems from not standing up for herself and just taking whatever people gave her. She strived for nothing. And she shut down and stopped living. That shame, that regret, that feeling of hopelessness passed right through me and to everyone else in my family...which makes it harder for me, because I'll be dammed if my sister grows up with the same emotional issues I did. It's not fair for her to be subjected to instability every day.

Yesterday was a mess...I hadn't seen him in a month. He looked at me like a deer in headlights. He acted like he didn't know who I was. A slight touch on my elbow, meant something, but his face, expression and minimal word usage said it all. Nothing was expected, but I wasn't expecting a cold reception and what made it all worse is the fact that it wasn't planned. I just ran into him. Which made it more uncomfortable. I did what I did for him out of the kindness in my heart, I wanted nothing in return...except the common courtesy of "Hi, how are you?" rude ass muthafucka...the nerve of people to ever ask why. All you have to do is look at the way you treat other people and you'll know why. At least I've learned that.

I don't get butterflies when I see him. Him as in the current, Dress Rehearsal. I just feel comfortable being around him. I don't feel like I'm the show when I'm with him. He knows Tarrance, he likes him even...I can tell. But one thing I hate about text messages is you can't read emotions. And I over reacted, that's why I kept it to myself. It had nothing to do with him. It was the resurfacing of issues revisited brought on by my mother, brought on by my family that I wasn't apart, that I don't belong and no one accepted me.

As I sit here hours before I record my show, hours before I return to that house to start to cook for ungrateful people, minutes before I get her daughter ready for school like I do everyday, because the mother is emotionally disconnected and the father is a recovering herionholic one thing I will not do on thanksgiving day is pray with her. I will not pray or link hands with anyone I hate or people that I can effectively communicate with. And being an effective communicator means to be able to admit your faults, your wrongs and your responsibilities. Even though I had left the building hours before - she called me saying I left dishes at the sink in her house...but moments before, "Me and Essence ate..." bitch get off my phone.

It's clear that no one ever validated them and told them they were special. No one confirmed their dreams. No one told them they could make it - and that had to have been a hard pill to swallow especially when all of them had the potential to be great. I see the good and creativity in all of them. The what if factors use to be amazing to dream about...but their father was do busy sleeping around, beating them, their mother and leaving them in desolate isolation. No water, no power, no food growing up. Their mother was too busy trying to make ends meet for 9 kids. And in the midst of all of that, no one confirmed them and told them they had worth. Just as my mother never told me I was worth something.

I am looking at my cousin, asleep on my couch. The only real time that we have to rest without being bothered. But we wake up tired, because we think too much while we are sleep. He and I are a month a part. Thick as thieves. Lacking the same things I lack - but we're both on a quest to get past this road block, this mountain of mental and emotional baggage our parents and Grandfather left for us to to clean up. I love him a lot. I respect him and I understand him...and I am happy for the things that he will do in his life.

My long hard battle with self-hatred is coming to an end. I don't blame my family for any of their wrong doings because they truly don't know what they are doing. They are so use to operating out of insecurity, fear and rejection they think it's right. Just as no one said it was okay and validated them - no one said it was okay to turn to God, the God that is within us all. To start the process to love from within, so they could be the change the wanted to see.


Diego said...

FYI: you used the word "psycho" in this last Friday show, but I think you meant "psyche", they are very different!

Also, come on, put down the weed. It makes for amusing annecdotes but you had quit it before, we were happy for you.

And be more responsible with your literary comments. You are someone who writes so you don't read? Everyone knows you have to be a good reader in order to be a GOOD writer.

Kristina said...

Self reflection and evaluation is cleansing and freeing (and usually difficult and trying). I often tell myself, "stop complaining about and do something about it. You cannot change what you do not accept/recognize". It sounds to me like you've recognized what you want to change and that's great. From what I've heard from you lately and read as well you seem to be on the right path.

You are a complex dude. I really like you! I usually listen @ work and it's definately a highlight of my day. Thanks for sharing your humor and your trails.

Enjoy your holiday!