I'm not sure I've ever used the phrase "I think we're growing apart." It feels like what is mostly said is "we grew apart." It's one of those things that happens before you know it's happened. Kind of like falling in love, or out of love for that matter.
Christmas of 2009 I was at home visiting my mother. I still lived in DC at the time and so trips back home were still a big deal. Not only did I need to spend time with my mother, but I also had to make time for various friends -- especially the ones from high school.
I vividly remember sitting in a friend's living room watching 6-7 people pass around a blunt and it suddenly hitting me like a ton of bricks: we've grown apart.
It wasn't so much that they were smoking weed. I don't have a problem with that, I've done it, several of my friends do it. But it was that that particular night marked 3 nights in a row that I sat in one spot and watched the same 6-7 people get high. Their lives and my life just weren't on the same wavelength and it hurt to realize that.
These were people that I spent my formative years with. I started to learn who I was while I knew them. I got in trouble with them. I made lifelong memories with them. A few in the room were people that I thought I'd always know and would always be apart of my life. When I imagined my wedding day (back when I still thought I wanted to have one) some of those faces were faces I anticipated seeing in my bridal party.
And then suddenly I knew, just like I knew my name and date of birth, that it wouldn't be. And it had nothing to do with us being cool. We just weren't on the same page in life and it sucked.
Around that same time I saw a friend who told me I thought I was better than everybody else. It hurt because I've always prided myself on NOT being that person. On knowing that I was smart, but not being an asshole about it. At first I took her comment to mean that I hadn't been as good at being inclusive as I thought, but after I processed what she said and the context in which she said it, I realized that her words had very little to do with me and so much to do with her. But even still, it was strong evidence of our growth apart. When she saw me, she saw failure in herself -- and how could I be friends with someone in that place?
If you've never experienced this, trust that you will. Growth is certainly what makes life, life and people just grow differently -- and sometimes that differently means away from one another. It is a painful experience when it happens with someone or people that you've grown to love and expected would always be around. But eventually you realize it has a purpose. Some people have to move out of the way so new people can come in and be great for you at the right time.
My 10 year high school reunion is next year and I'm eagerly anticipating reuniting and reminiscing. But I also know that once the reunion is over, we'll all go back to our present lives with our present people. We'll hang up our friendships until the next reunion and I'm ok with that.
Showing posts with label about me. Show all posts
Showing posts with label about me. Show all posts
7.03.2013
12.15.2012
Isolation
I self-isolate a lot. I'd usually rather be by myself than with a group.
For years I blamed it on being an only-child and appreciating my "me" time. And that's still true.
In recent years I learned more about my personality style so I blamed it on being an introvert. While I can and often do have fun with big groups, while I can and often do find myself the center of attention and not freak out, and while I can and often do find myself talking to large groups of people, that's not where I go when I need to re-energize. I re-energize from being alone and being with myself. All that is still true.
However I also find some folks draining. And it's becoming clear to me that I attract the type of people who can be somewhat self-centered. I value having people in my life who are also genuinely interested in what's happening to me so I really notice when I have folks around me who aren't interested and maybe even a bit disgusted.
I spend my days being very empathetic and taking on folks problems. Part of what makes me a good counselor is being able to sense how a person is feeling even when they can't explain it. That is hard work and it is emotionally draining.
And I'm learning that simply saying that doesn't explain anything to anyone. That when you're already talking to someone who is only thinking about themselves, they have no room to consider how you feel. So since it feels like I can't educate the masses, I self-isolate. I avoid being in positions to have to accept yet another invitation, I don't pick up the phone, I wait to return phone calls and text messages and even emails.
I don't feel like I know anyone in my situation. Someone who values their alone time as much but who also has so many people who want their time and energy. I'm certainly not complaining that I have people who want to spend time with me (even if for many it's for personal gain) but that doesn't mean I have to always want to reciprocate.
NYE is coming up and I'm dreading it. I want to be at home by myself, but I already have so many folks who want me with them and the stress of figuring out how to not be stressed is too much...
For years I blamed it on being an only-child and appreciating my "me" time. And that's still true.
In recent years I learned more about my personality style so I blamed it on being an introvert. While I can and often do have fun with big groups, while I can and often do find myself the center of attention and not freak out, and while I can and often do find myself talking to large groups of people, that's not where I go when I need to re-energize. I re-energize from being alone and being with myself. All that is still true.
However I also find some folks draining. And it's becoming clear to me that I attract the type of people who can be somewhat self-centered. I value having people in my life who are also genuinely interested in what's happening to me so I really notice when I have folks around me who aren't interested and maybe even a bit disgusted.
I spend my days being very empathetic and taking on folks problems. Part of what makes me a good counselor is being able to sense how a person is feeling even when they can't explain it. That is hard work and it is emotionally draining.
And I'm learning that simply saying that doesn't explain anything to anyone. That when you're already talking to someone who is only thinking about themselves, they have no room to consider how you feel. So since it feels like I can't educate the masses, I self-isolate. I avoid being in positions to have to accept yet another invitation, I don't pick up the phone, I wait to return phone calls and text messages and even emails.
I don't feel like I know anyone in my situation. Someone who values their alone time as much but who also has so many people who want their time and energy. I'm certainly not complaining that I have people who want to spend time with me (even if for many it's for personal gain) but that doesn't mean I have to always want to reciprocate.
NYE is coming up and I'm dreading it. I want to be at home by myself, but I already have so many folks who want me with them and the stress of figuring out how to not be stressed is too much...
12.10.2012
The Cliff
I think there are two types of people, generally...
Those who can take a lot and those who cannot.
Those in the latter group are the firecrackers. The short-fuses. The clap-with-every-word-spoken-to-make-a-point types. But they're also quick to get over it. They build, they blow, the move on. You may never know what you're going to get, but you can rest assured that it'll go to the other end of the scale in just a few moments.
I'm a member of the first group. I am slow to anger; most folks have never seen me truly angry. I have a large threshold for foolishness and if I like you, I'll tolerate almost anything, for some amount of time. But when I blow, it's game over. I don't really "come back" from it. I'm over it and I'm over you.
It's one of the things that I have a hard time getting people to believe me. Folks have known me for years and years and never experienced my anger. Some of them think I really don't or can't get mad. That is incorrect. And this isn't something you want to learn by experience.
I thought about this as I continue to process some things that have happened. J was the first person to "push too far." I remember warning him, even though I'd never experienced it. Something inside me, though, felt like once it broke it'd be broken.
And true enough, when it went too far, it went too far and it took me years to come back and even be ready to do the work to rekindle our friendship; of course by then it was too late. Whole other story.
So here I sit now, two broken friendships. One that could be mended, but I doubt the other person will be able to do that hard work long term and another that as of right now, I have no desire to see it fixed. Mostly because I don't like what I saw in this person as our friendship deteriorated and I tried to salvage something.
Anyway, I feel myself almost repulsed at the idea of having to deal with the friendship or the individual. I'm over it -- I got pushed too far. And maybe in a couple of years that'll change; hell, maybe in a few months, but it's so revealing to recognize how little I care about something that mattered so much to me just a little while ago.
It also rings the famous Maya Angelou quote - "when people tell you who they are, believe them" - so much louder and more true than before.
Those who can take a lot and those who cannot.
Those in the latter group are the firecrackers. The short-fuses. The clap-with-every-word-spoken-to-make-a-point types. But they're also quick to get over it. They build, they blow, the move on. You may never know what you're going to get, but you can rest assured that it'll go to the other end of the scale in just a few moments.
I'm a member of the first group. I am slow to anger; most folks have never seen me truly angry. I have a large threshold for foolishness and if I like you, I'll tolerate almost anything, for some amount of time. But when I blow, it's game over. I don't really "come back" from it. I'm over it and I'm over you.
It's one of the things that I have a hard time getting people to believe me. Folks have known me for years and years and never experienced my anger. Some of them think I really don't or can't get mad. That is incorrect. And this isn't something you want to learn by experience.
I thought about this as I continue to process some things that have happened. J was the first person to "push too far." I remember warning him, even though I'd never experienced it. Something inside me, though, felt like once it broke it'd be broken.
And true enough, when it went too far, it went too far and it took me years to come back and even be ready to do the work to rekindle our friendship; of course by then it was too late. Whole other story.
So here I sit now, two broken friendships. One that could be mended, but I doubt the other person will be able to do that hard work long term and another that as of right now, I have no desire to see it fixed. Mostly because I don't like what I saw in this person as our friendship deteriorated and I tried to salvage something.
Anyway, I feel myself almost repulsed at the idea of having to deal with the friendship or the individual. I'm over it -- I got pushed too far. And maybe in a couple of years that'll change; hell, maybe in a few months, but it's so revealing to recognize how little I care about something that mattered so much to me just a little while ago.
It also rings the famous Maya Angelou quote - "when people tell you who they are, believe them" - so much louder and more true than before.
7.09.2012
In My Own Time
My new television obsession is Army Wives. A show about 4 women - 3 wives of soldiers and one a soldier - and their families. It's been a huge hit on the Lifetime network for years now, and I refused to watch it until recently I decided to give the first episode a shot (since Netflix recommended it and all 5 seasons were available). I was in love with the show from the moment I hit play.
In tonight's episode, Nicole, a captain in Intelligence and her fiance Charlie (short for Charlotte) have trouble deciding the best way to tell Nicole's mom, who will be visiting to see Nicole be awarded a Bronze Star, that they are engaged. It's been made clear from previous episodes that Nicole's mom is aware that she is gay but is unwilling to accept it and in this episode, Charlie shares that Nicole's mom calls her "Nicole's roommate."
If you've watched enough television drama you can probably guess what happened. Nicole promised to tell her mom, and when it appeared that she wouldn't, Charlie blurted it out leaving Nicole and her mom very upset.
Charlie's character is "colorful" to use her own words and so aside from the real human stuff involved her, it reasoned that she would pull something like that. I thought Nicole was a bit short-sighted to not recognize that this might happen and take steps to prevent it.
That being said, Charlie didn't give Nicole any time to tell her mom. In fact, her mom had just arrived when Charlie got antsy and shared the big news. I thought that was a bit rude.
I do things in my own time. Call it hardheaded or stubborn or whatever, but I don't do anything (well, most anything) until I'm good and ready.
Take, for example, carrying a purse. Let it be said I don't do girly stuff; I never have. And even as my friends began carrying a purse at young ages, I didn't see the point. Even at 16 when it was expected that I would carry a purse I didn't. All I had was a wallet (a man's trifold velcro wallet) with my license and whatever other random cards I could find to stick in it. What'd I need a purse for? I stuck the wallet in my back pocket and went on about my day.
My mother ranted for months about that. The best compromise I could come up with was not carrying the wallet which, she told me, made me look like a boy. I simply stuck my ID and money in my pocket. I just didn't see the point in carrying a purse for one item.
That is, until I did see a point and one day while out shopping with my mother I spotted a blue purse that struck my fancy, I bought it (well, my mother bought it since she was so happy I wanted one) and I've been carrying a purse (for the most part) ever since.
This thing with me carries on to the big things as well and it can be detrimental -- like not ending relationships when I know I should because I'm just not ready. I live with the consequences of my choices, however.
Ultimately, all this means that when I tell you I'm going to handle something, you need to just let me handle it. The quickest way to piss me off, is to force my hand on something that should've been left up to me to handle. It's just not fair. While I totally felt where Charlie was coming from -- not wanting her relationship with Nicole to continue to be ignored by someone important in Nicole's life -- Nicole also promised to handle it and she had a right to be left to do that with her own mother. Nicole strikes me as someone who does things in her own time and her time table just wasn't what Charlie was looking for.
I try to be clear with people who my decision my effect what my timeline is, if I have one, but often all I can do is promise that it will be done and sometimes that's gotta be enough.
In tonight's episode, Nicole, a captain in Intelligence and her fiance Charlie (short for Charlotte) have trouble deciding the best way to tell Nicole's mom, who will be visiting to see Nicole be awarded a Bronze Star, that they are engaged. It's been made clear from previous episodes that Nicole's mom is aware that she is gay but is unwilling to accept it and in this episode, Charlie shares that Nicole's mom calls her "Nicole's roommate."
If you've watched enough television drama you can probably guess what happened. Nicole promised to tell her mom, and when it appeared that she wouldn't, Charlie blurted it out leaving Nicole and her mom very upset.
Charlie's character is "colorful" to use her own words and so aside from the real human stuff involved her, it reasoned that she would pull something like that. I thought Nicole was a bit short-sighted to not recognize that this might happen and take steps to prevent it.
That being said, Charlie didn't give Nicole any time to tell her mom. In fact, her mom had just arrived when Charlie got antsy and shared the big news. I thought that was a bit rude.
I do things in my own time. Call it hardheaded or stubborn or whatever, but I don't do anything (well, most anything) until I'm good and ready.
Take, for example, carrying a purse. Let it be said I don't do girly stuff; I never have. And even as my friends began carrying a purse at young ages, I didn't see the point. Even at 16 when it was expected that I would carry a purse I didn't. All I had was a wallet (a man's trifold velcro wallet) with my license and whatever other random cards I could find to stick in it. What'd I need a purse for? I stuck the wallet in my back pocket and went on about my day.
My mother ranted for months about that. The best compromise I could come up with was not carrying the wallet which, she told me, made me look like a boy. I simply stuck my ID and money in my pocket. I just didn't see the point in carrying a purse for one item.
That is, until I did see a point and one day while out shopping with my mother I spotted a blue purse that struck my fancy, I bought it (well, my mother bought it since she was so happy I wanted one) and I've been carrying a purse (for the most part) ever since.
This thing with me carries on to the big things as well and it can be detrimental -- like not ending relationships when I know I should because I'm just not ready. I live with the consequences of my choices, however.
Ultimately, all this means that when I tell you I'm going to handle something, you need to just let me handle it. The quickest way to piss me off, is to force my hand on something that should've been left up to me to handle. It's just not fair. While I totally felt where Charlie was coming from -- not wanting her relationship with Nicole to continue to be ignored by someone important in Nicole's life -- Nicole also promised to handle it and she had a right to be left to do that with her own mother. Nicole strikes me as someone who does things in her own time and her time table just wasn't what Charlie was looking for.
I try to be clear with people who my decision my effect what my timeline is, if I have one, but often all I can do is promise that it will be done and sometimes that's gotta be enough.
7.06.2012
Job Searching and Why I Won't Talk About It
I started blogging a long time ago -- back before it was called that -- back when we were just online journaling -- back when xanga and livejournal were legitimate websites that legitimate online users used. I started doing this because I, like most folks, find it therapeutic to write down the things that are going on. In the very very very beginning I literally used it like a journal, writing down the things that were happening to me, as they happened with full details and names.
All of that was fine and dandy until I got into a relationship and started chronicling the woes of that. It wasn't all woes, but I guess that's all I talked about and my boyfriend just wasn't with it. So many of our fights were about the things I wrote online. I didn't get the big deal and he didn't get the big deal but I did ultimately give in and begin censoring myself; first in the matters of our relationship but eventually in all matters.
When I first started this blog, it was to get away from xanga where I had so many people reading my blog who knew me personally. I didn't get a lot of negative feedback about what I was writing, but I did continue to censor myself heavily -- only writing what I thought would be received well, especially if it involved other people. I created a blogspot (now blogger) account never intending for anyone I knew personally to see it. If you go back and read my early posts, many are very detailed, using real names of people I actually know talking about things that actually happened.
I took a break from blogging and when I came back to it and I started getting around on these internet streets and people started actually reading this blog, I realized that there was no way for me to know who was and who wasn't reading. I could assume that because no one I knew personally ever said anything to me about it that they weren't reading but I knew better than to trust that for long. There was also the point that from time to time I write things here that I think are good and want my friends to read, but worry about sending links because what's to stop them from reading the whole site and find posts about them?
So I fell back to censoring myself which is why I started online journaling in the first place. I needed a place to be honest about myself and the things going on around me in a way I couldn't be "in real life" but "real life" followed me here.
I have not completely stopped talking about my life or giving personal stories about real things that happened, but much like in my real life, I give as few details as possible and try to speak as generally as possible when I can't speak as personally (that means only about me) as possible.
All of this is relevant to my job search. Everyone wants updates and I've been reluctant to talk about it. At first I tried to be very open, telling people about my job prospects and potential interviews, but as the disappointments came -- and I knew they would -- I found that other people's stress was effecting me. It's caused me to censor myself and clam up. I've also become something of a hermit as a result. I blame it on wanting to save money, which I do, but dinner dates and outings with friends always end up with "so how's your summer going?" which is usually to imply (if it's not outright asked immediately following) "how's the job hunt?"
I know people mean well and in that general way I'm appreciative. But more and more it feels like people want to problem-solve a problem I don't think I have just yet. Job searches take time and they are disappointing for awhile for most people. It's like looking for something you lost: it's always in the last place you look.
I've been blunt: "when I know something, you'll know something..." I've been coy: "I've got a few leads..." I've explained, I've answered questions, I've done everything but nothing seems to calm people down and so I've given up. They don't get it and I don't get it. Perhaps it's my usual calm and seemingly unaffected demeanor that riles folks up, but that's just me. I trust that when you do things the proper way, they work out and until I have a reason not to trust that, I'm going to keep on.
I have the sort of personality that takes on other people's emotions. I'm very empathetic. It makes me a great counselor and friend but when it goes unchecked can be very unhealthy for me. It's like walking around with all the books of all your classes on your back and then taking on the load of a friend who has the same class load as yours. It's like double the work for half the payout and it is not at all comfortable or fun. The only way I know to keep myself from taking on everyone else's backpacks is to just stay away for a little while. Censor myself, if you will.
I do have one friend who's in my same boat and seems to get my reluctance to talk so she lets me tell her what I want to and she doesn't ask a lot of questions so I tell her everything on my mind and then I'm good. But everyone else will just have to wait until I have good news and I have a feeling that will be soon.
All of that was fine and dandy until I got into a relationship and started chronicling the woes of that. It wasn't all woes, but I guess that's all I talked about and my boyfriend just wasn't with it. So many of our fights were about the things I wrote online. I didn't get the big deal and he didn't get the big deal but I did ultimately give in and begin censoring myself; first in the matters of our relationship but eventually in all matters.
When I first started this blog, it was to get away from xanga where I had so many people reading my blog who knew me personally. I didn't get a lot of negative feedback about what I was writing, but I did continue to censor myself heavily -- only writing what I thought would be received well, especially if it involved other people. I created a blogspot (now blogger) account never intending for anyone I knew personally to see it. If you go back and read my early posts, many are very detailed, using real names of people I actually know talking about things that actually happened.
I took a break from blogging and when I came back to it and I started getting around on these internet streets and people started actually reading this blog, I realized that there was no way for me to know who was and who wasn't reading. I could assume that because no one I knew personally ever said anything to me about it that they weren't reading but I knew better than to trust that for long. There was also the point that from time to time I write things here that I think are good and want my friends to read, but worry about sending links because what's to stop them from reading the whole site and find posts about them?
So I fell back to censoring myself which is why I started online journaling in the first place. I needed a place to be honest about myself and the things going on around me in a way I couldn't be "in real life" but "real life" followed me here.
I have not completely stopped talking about my life or giving personal stories about real things that happened, but much like in my real life, I give as few details as possible and try to speak as generally as possible when I can't speak as personally (that means only about me) as possible.
All of this is relevant to my job search. Everyone wants updates and I've been reluctant to talk about it. At first I tried to be very open, telling people about my job prospects and potential interviews, but as the disappointments came -- and I knew they would -- I found that other people's stress was effecting me. It's caused me to censor myself and clam up. I've also become something of a hermit as a result. I blame it on wanting to save money, which I do, but dinner dates and outings with friends always end up with "so how's your summer going?" which is usually to imply (if it's not outright asked immediately following) "how's the job hunt?"
I know people mean well and in that general way I'm appreciative. But more and more it feels like people want to problem-solve a problem I don't think I have just yet. Job searches take time and they are disappointing for awhile for most people. It's like looking for something you lost: it's always in the last place you look.
I've been blunt: "when I know something, you'll know something..." I've been coy: "I've got a few leads..." I've explained, I've answered questions, I've done everything but nothing seems to calm people down and so I've given up. They don't get it and I don't get it. Perhaps it's my usual calm and seemingly unaffected demeanor that riles folks up, but that's just me. I trust that when you do things the proper way, they work out and until I have a reason not to trust that, I'm going to keep on.
I have the sort of personality that takes on other people's emotions. I'm very empathetic. It makes me a great counselor and friend but when it goes unchecked can be very unhealthy for me. It's like walking around with all the books of all your classes on your back and then taking on the load of a friend who has the same class load as yours. It's like double the work for half the payout and it is not at all comfortable or fun. The only way I know to keep myself from taking on everyone else's backpacks is to just stay away for a little while. Censor myself, if you will.
I do have one friend who's in my same boat and seems to get my reluctance to talk so she lets me tell her what I want to and she doesn't ask a lot of questions so I tell her everything on my mind and then I'm good. But everyone else will just have to wait until I have good news and I have a feeling that will be soon.
6.18.2012
Seeing The Great
Five days ago, Erica Kennedy died. In that time I've seen a whole lot of tweets and blog posts about what a great author and friend she was. Though I was only vaguely aware of her as the author of "Feminista" and "Bling," it seems I follow several individuals on twitter who had a much (MUCH) stronger knowledge of and connection to her. And as I read their blog posts and tweets I found it both stirring and remarkable that they all seemed to say almost the exact same things about her. That she was a genius, and supportive.
The one thing, however, I saw repeated that really has stuck with me is that they all mentioned how she seemed to have the ability to see greatness in individuals who could not see it in themselves. Several individuals mentioned that when invited to join a group of women put together by Erica, they had no idea why only to come to learn that she did it with purpose -- she saw something in each of them that she thought might help the others. She saw the great.
If you've ever had someone see something in you that you can't see in yourself, only to later begin to see it for yourself, you can only describe the experience as magical and touching. As you think back over all the moments and events that got you to that place, you realize that had it not been for that one person who could see the great, you might never have gotten there.
I've had MANY moments just like that and I continue to. As I was cleaning out some of my drawers, I found old tshirts that I really need to get rid of (thinking of a tshirt quilt) but haven't because they all mean something to me. A few of those shirts refer to things I did in high school and they made me think of one of the first times somebody saw the great in me (after my mama who saw it the day I was born, so...). What's interesting is that while I count this as once, it was actually two different people.
Most predominantly white and private institutions of learning, whether K-12 or higher ed will have an organization that functions as both a support group for its minority students as well as a unifying voice. My white, private high school was no different. I avoided joining this group in my freshman year, feeling out of place and not quite connected to them. The first friends I made at this school were white, and I didn't do any of the stereotypical black things that connected the black students so I had managed to make it through both 8th and 9th grade only really connecting to the handful of black kids in my class, and only kinda.
However towards the end of the school year one of my white friends whose sister had been active in this group wanted to go but wanted some "support" and I was the obvious supportive choice (aside from being black, or rather because of it, I was the most likely to agree to even go, though I had turned down previous requests from her). Being at a college prep school, it had been beaten into me that my resume for college needed stuff on it and so I figured there was no harm in going to one meeting and then slapping that on my resume.
We happen to pick the last meeting of the year, where they were electing officers, to randomly attend. In hindsight, I don't doubt that all of the upperclassman present at that meeting knew who I was, or at least knew of me. My class had the most black students - 10 - so it wasn't hard to spot the one black girl who didn't kick it with them. I stuffed myself in a corner (while my friend sat herself up front) and tried to remain inconspicuous. Elections began and it seemed that everyone had already decided who would be elected or at the least, nominated, to many of the positions except for treasurer. No one volunteered themselves, as had been the case with other positions. Finally one girl who had been previously nominated raised her hand to accept the nomination. It looked like she would be the only one and thus the default winner when at the last minute another girl raised her hand and said, "I'd like to nominate Ashley." All eyes were on me and I was confused. In my mind I had spoken to this junior maybe once or twice. I knew who she was but was baffled that she knew who I was and went so far as to nominate me for a position. The president-elect (she was the only one nominated) who was the current secretary asked if I was ok with the nomination and I accepted it.
After the meeting, this junior approached me and said she hoped I hadn't been embarrassed and that she thought I should be on the executive board the next year. Not only did she see the great, but she was someone I had no clue was even paying me attention.
The day of the elections, the president-elect mentioned to me that if I didn't win she had an idea she wanted to run by me but she first needed to speak to the organization's faculty advisor. Of course I didn't win the election and I wasn't surprised -- I actually only voted for myself because it felt silly not to. About a week later, the president-elect emailed me and asked if I wouldn't mind stopping by their faculty advisor's office to talk with her. At our impromptu meeting she mentioned to me that after having served as secretary for a year she knew that it was a lot of work and she thought there might be enough work that having an assistant secretary made sense. She said she specifically wanted me for the position. I was baffled. Twice in one week someone implied that they thought I might be good at something I had never considered: Leadership.
I point to that experience as one of the reasons I went on to hold other leadership positions. The year after I was asst. secretary I became President of the organization (I was elected VP and bumped to President, a motif that played out again, in another org, the following year). I had two people who saw the great in me and acted on it. Not only did they influence my pursuit of leadership positions but they influenced my efforts to see the great in others. That event changed the trajectory of my life, I'm sure of it. If I can do that for others, similar to the way Erica Kennedy did it for many, I'll feel like I really am achieving the great so many have seen in me.
The one thing, however, I saw repeated that really has stuck with me is that they all mentioned how she seemed to have the ability to see greatness in individuals who could not see it in themselves. Several individuals mentioned that when invited to join a group of women put together by Erica, they had no idea why only to come to learn that she did it with purpose -- she saw something in each of them that she thought might help the others. She saw the great.
If you've ever had someone see something in you that you can't see in yourself, only to later begin to see it for yourself, you can only describe the experience as magical and touching. As you think back over all the moments and events that got you to that place, you realize that had it not been for that one person who could see the great, you might never have gotten there.
I've had MANY moments just like that and I continue to. As I was cleaning out some of my drawers, I found old tshirts that I really need to get rid of (thinking of a tshirt quilt) but haven't because they all mean something to me. A few of those shirts refer to things I did in high school and they made me think of one of the first times somebody saw the great in me (after my mama who saw it the day I was born, so...). What's interesting is that while I count this as once, it was actually two different people.
Most predominantly white and private institutions of learning, whether K-12 or higher ed will have an organization that functions as both a support group for its minority students as well as a unifying voice. My white, private high school was no different. I avoided joining this group in my freshman year, feeling out of place and not quite connected to them. The first friends I made at this school were white, and I didn't do any of the stereotypical black things that connected the black students so I had managed to make it through both 8th and 9th grade only really connecting to the handful of black kids in my class, and only kinda.
However towards the end of the school year one of my white friends whose sister had been active in this group wanted to go but wanted some "support" and I was the obvious supportive choice (aside from being black, or rather because of it, I was the most likely to agree to even go, though I had turned down previous requests from her). Being at a college prep school, it had been beaten into me that my resume for college needed stuff on it and so I figured there was no harm in going to one meeting and then slapping that on my resume.
We happen to pick the last meeting of the year, where they were electing officers, to randomly attend. In hindsight, I don't doubt that all of the upperclassman present at that meeting knew who I was, or at least knew of me. My class had the most black students - 10 - so it wasn't hard to spot the one black girl who didn't kick it with them. I stuffed myself in a corner (while my friend sat herself up front) and tried to remain inconspicuous. Elections began and it seemed that everyone had already decided who would be elected or at the least, nominated, to many of the positions except for treasurer. No one volunteered themselves, as had been the case with other positions. Finally one girl who had been previously nominated raised her hand to accept the nomination. It looked like she would be the only one and thus the default winner when at the last minute another girl raised her hand and said, "I'd like to nominate Ashley." All eyes were on me and I was confused. In my mind I had spoken to this junior maybe once or twice. I knew who she was but was baffled that she knew who I was and went so far as to nominate me for a position. The president-elect (she was the only one nominated) who was the current secretary asked if I was ok with the nomination and I accepted it.
After the meeting, this junior approached me and said she hoped I hadn't been embarrassed and that she thought I should be on the executive board the next year. Not only did she see the great, but she was someone I had no clue was even paying me attention.
The day of the elections, the president-elect mentioned to me that if I didn't win she had an idea she wanted to run by me but she first needed to speak to the organization's faculty advisor. Of course I didn't win the election and I wasn't surprised -- I actually only voted for myself because it felt silly not to. About a week later, the president-elect emailed me and asked if I wouldn't mind stopping by their faculty advisor's office to talk with her. At our impromptu meeting she mentioned to me that after having served as secretary for a year she knew that it was a lot of work and she thought there might be enough work that having an assistant secretary made sense. She said she specifically wanted me for the position. I was baffled. Twice in one week someone implied that they thought I might be good at something I had never considered: Leadership.
I point to that experience as one of the reasons I went on to hold other leadership positions. The year after I was asst. secretary I became President of the organization (I was elected VP and bumped to President, a motif that played out again, in another org, the following year). I had two people who saw the great in me and acted on it. Not only did they influence my pursuit of leadership positions but they influenced my efforts to see the great in others. That event changed the trajectory of my life, I'm sure of it. If I can do that for others, similar to the way Erica Kennedy did it for many, I'll feel like I really am achieving the great so many have seen in me.
6.04.2012
The Moment I Knew I Was Dying
I'm not sure what made me think of this incident, but I like to share it with people to demonstrate that even I have been known to write checks with my mouth that my ass can't cash (and therefore know what I'm talking about when I encourage people not to).
I was about 15 or 16 years old. Right at an age where I was smelling myself (to use a nice country old people saying). I was closer to legal independence and was experiencing this odd thing most high schoolers go through where they have to balance all of the responsibility they're given by school and family with remembering that at the end of the day, they're still underage and relative know nothings. Of course the whole point of being a teenager is not knowing that you don't know anything.
Almost 10 years later I remember not what the argument was about, but as had become the norm, my mother and I were engaged in a heated battle. I'm sure it was some nonsense where I wanted my way because I'm an all knowing teenager and my mother doesn't want me to have it because I'm a smart ass teenager.
At some point I got in her face. I clearly remember thinking "she's probably gonna swing on me, but I'm about as tall as she is and I got a little weight on her, I'll be aight..." She did that "calm before the storm" warning where she eerily tells me that "I need to back up..." and I keep on going, because I'm big and bad and she warns me again and then... she snaps.
The first swing on me misses and I get a little upperhand on her. I'm in control and smelling myself when suddenly, I'm flat on my back with my mother's hands around my throat and she is SQUEEZING.
I very clearly recall doing 3 things: 1) grabbing her wrists movie style and trying to pull them off, 2) kicking with my feet hoping to kick her or get leverage to get from under her and 3) not breathing.
I was looking in her eyes and that wasn't my mother. I thought "this woman has no idea she's literally choking the life out of me, but surely she's going to stop" and as things progressed (the seconds that felt like hours) I began panicking because it seemed like she wasn't going to stop until I stopped breathing and then it happened... my foot went through the wall.
Remember number 2? Well, all that kicking on the wall only served to break the wall, not save my life and in that moment ladies and gentleman, I prepared to go see Jesus. I'm not playing. The lady wasn't stopping and I wasn't breathing.
I guess hearing her wall get a hole put in it (or hearing the sound of money leaving her bank account to fix it) snapped my mama out of it because she stopped squeezing the life out of me and got up. We didn't talk about this incident for years and when we did, we didn't -- I told the story to some family and she laughed along with them as I made light of the fact that one time, my mama almost killed me.
In case you still don't get that my mama is a G, when the handyman came to fix the hole and asked her what happened she said, "Ashley was acting a fool and kicked a hole in..."
What was I gonna do? Right. Not shit.
I was about 15 or 16 years old. Right at an age where I was smelling myself (to use a nice country old people saying). I was closer to legal independence and was experiencing this odd thing most high schoolers go through where they have to balance all of the responsibility they're given by school and family with remembering that at the end of the day, they're still underage and relative know nothings. Of course the whole point of being a teenager is not knowing that you don't know anything.
Almost 10 years later I remember not what the argument was about, but as had become the norm, my mother and I were engaged in a heated battle. I'm sure it was some nonsense where I wanted my way because I'm an all knowing teenager and my mother doesn't want me to have it because I'm a smart ass teenager.
At some point I got in her face. I clearly remember thinking "she's probably gonna swing on me, but I'm about as tall as she is and I got a little weight on her, I'll be aight..." She did that "calm before the storm" warning where she eerily tells me that "I need to back up..." and I keep on going, because I'm big and bad and she warns me again and then... she snaps.
The first swing on me misses and I get a little upperhand on her. I'm in control and smelling myself when suddenly, I'm flat on my back with my mother's hands around my throat and she is SQUEEZING.
I very clearly recall doing 3 things: 1) grabbing her wrists movie style and trying to pull them off, 2) kicking with my feet hoping to kick her or get leverage to get from under her and 3) not breathing.
I was looking in her eyes and that wasn't my mother. I thought "this woman has no idea she's literally choking the life out of me, but surely she's going to stop" and as things progressed (the seconds that felt like hours) I began panicking because it seemed like she wasn't going to stop until I stopped breathing and then it happened... my foot went through the wall.
Remember number 2? Well, all that kicking on the wall only served to break the wall, not save my life and in that moment ladies and gentleman, I prepared to go see Jesus. I'm not playing. The lady wasn't stopping and I wasn't breathing.
I guess hearing her wall get a hole put in it (or hearing the sound of money leaving her bank account to fix it) snapped my mama out of it because she stopped squeezing the life out of me and got up. We didn't talk about this incident for years and when we did, we didn't -- I told the story to some family and she laughed along with them as I made light of the fact that one time, my mama almost killed me.
In case you still don't get that my mama is a G, when the handyman came to fix the hole and asked her what happened she said, "Ashley was acting a fool and kicked a hole in..."
What was I gonna do? Right. Not shit.
5.22.2012
More of Me
I spent the first 4 months of the year immersed in myself and what I was trying to finish. I neglected friendships and responsibilities. I avoided phone calls, didn't respond to text messages and skimmed emails. I half-ass supported folks in need unless supporting their need put me any closer to my end goal. That included myself
I won't be apologizing for any of that because it was a necessary thing. Sometimes you have to shut it all out and hone in on the goal and work your ass off for a little while and get what it is you want.
This last month, however, I've been assessing the damage. Who do I owe? How can I make it up? Most folks aren't holding it against me because they understand, because they get it. Most folks are just happy that I'm back... or coming back, at least.
I also spent this last month assessing what I've gained. You can't spend 2 years of intensive study on how humans develop and not get all in your own mess of a life (and, if you've done any living at all, it is a mess. It might be a beautiful mess, but a mess all the same, and that's not bad). From day one of my program, our professors warned us that if we bothered to do the work in the program we would find ourselves different from when we started. We would find ourselves growing. Our professors even suggested that we warn our loved ones because it might be difficult for them.
I didn't believe any of that -- I thought, sure, maybe some of these folks around me who have never been through anything in life might find some growth process in here and maybe I'll enhance an iota or two but overall, I didn't have any growing to do. Not right now. These were my thoughts. I was ridiculously arrogant and oblivious and wrong. I like to think that maybe that helped me grow more than I would've because I wasn't expecting anything. I was just trucking along.
I grew. Understand that. Who I was in August of 2010 is not who I am in May of 2012. And when I began to understand that, I started telling everyone because I was excited about it. I wanted everyone to know that I had grown and because I had grown I could help others grow (especially my little kiddos -- the precious pups who make me crazy inside). Except I kept saying that I had "changed." And I thought I had, but as I've had some time to myself to think about things and actually begin effecting change in my life (like ending relationships -- that is CERTAINLY something I wouldn't have been doing in August of 2010) I realized I'm not changed, in the sense that I was one person 2 years ago that I am no longer. I may be doing things I wouldn't have done before but that's not to say I didn't want to do them. I feel ok doing them now. Does that make me a changed individual? No. I think it makes me authentic. I'm different in that I'm the same with more of me coming, spilling, pouring out.
And this whole thing hasn't been easy and doesn't seem to be getting easier but I'm ok with that. I'm just fine with that because if it's hard, if it's easy, I need to be more of who I am. That's what's right.
I won't be apologizing for any of that because it was a necessary thing. Sometimes you have to shut it all out and hone in on the goal and work your ass off for a little while and get what it is you want.
This last month, however, I've been assessing the damage. Who do I owe? How can I make it up? Most folks aren't holding it against me because they understand, because they get it. Most folks are just happy that I'm back... or coming back, at least.
I also spent this last month assessing what I've gained. You can't spend 2 years of intensive study on how humans develop and not get all in your own mess of a life (and, if you've done any living at all, it is a mess. It might be a beautiful mess, but a mess all the same, and that's not bad). From day one of my program, our professors warned us that if we bothered to do the work in the program we would find ourselves different from when we started. We would find ourselves growing. Our professors even suggested that we warn our loved ones because it might be difficult for them.
I didn't believe any of that -- I thought, sure, maybe some of these folks around me who have never been through anything in life might find some growth process in here and maybe I'll enhance an iota or two but overall, I didn't have any growing to do. Not right now. These were my thoughts. I was ridiculously arrogant and oblivious and wrong. I like to think that maybe that helped me grow more than I would've because I wasn't expecting anything. I was just trucking along.
I grew. Understand that. Who I was in August of 2010 is not who I am in May of 2012. And when I began to understand that, I started telling everyone because I was excited about it. I wanted everyone to know that I had grown and because I had grown I could help others grow (especially my little kiddos -- the precious pups who make me crazy inside). Except I kept saying that I had "changed." And I thought I had, but as I've had some time to myself to think about things and actually begin effecting change in my life (like ending relationships -- that is CERTAINLY something I wouldn't have been doing in August of 2010) I realized I'm not changed, in the sense that I was one person 2 years ago that I am no longer. I may be doing things I wouldn't have done before but that's not to say I didn't want to do them. I feel ok doing them now. Does that make me a changed individual? No. I think it makes me authentic. I'm different in that I'm the same with more of me coming, spilling, pouring out.
And this whole thing hasn't been easy and doesn't seem to be getting easier but I'm ok with that. I'm just fine with that because if it's hard, if it's easy, I need to be more of who I am. That's what's right.
4.23.2012
Accomplishments
Had a good weekend with friends. Two friends stayed with me on separate nights and each of those nights I was up late with them reminiscing on old times and talking about our present lives. It always makes me feel good to be able to verbalize things with a trusted confidant.
One thing I vocalized with one of the friends that I've not ever talked about, except maybe for a brief rant on Twitter, was about how I feel about my upcoming graduation. I've downplayed the accomplishment of getting a Master's degree. Some of that has been because I've come to realize that though it shouldn't be, my education can be intimidating to some. Some of the reasoning has been also because I don't think I've really understood what a big deal it is for me to (practically) have this, Not everyone graduates from college and even fewer go on to get post-graduate degrees so me being here is no laughing or unimportant matter.
In my mind, this M.Ed is happening because in order to do what I want to do I need it and, to be honest, was there ever a question that I could get it done? Of course not. So why would we get excited about the inevitable?
The general sentiment about my upcoming graduation can be summed up by a quote from my mother: "folks are tired of you graduating..."
My mother is proud of me, she tells me that all the time. There are others in my family who are proud as well and have told me, but I can't shake that statement. This thought that because I've graduated before, because I've proven to be the type of person to do well in school and accomplish things of this nature that it's not an important enough happening for people to just care about is starting to hurt.
So as I processed this with my friend, I began to realize that whether I recognized it or not, I've worked my ass off for this degree. Real blood, real sweat and definitely real tears. One of my professors warned us that we would do a lot of growth and changing and I did not believe him. I did not think I had a lot of growing to do that wasn't professionally. I was self-assured that as a self-aware black woman, I had done all the growing I was going to do for this period of my life. I was epicly wrong.
I also don't think I really became aware of how wrong I was to think that until lately. Not just my time in this program, but my time not in the working world and back in school has been so eye-opening. I have grown. I am more selfish and more worried about my own well-being, specifically mentally, than I was before. I am more apt to tell someone no. I do think about the long term mental/emotional effects of the things I take on and the things I agree to do. I am more cognizant of who has unfiltered access to me and who I'm willing to go that extra mile for. I'm not perfect and I know it and I'm not worried that my imperfections make me an unworthy person. I still have people in my life that I wish I could get rid of but I trust myself more to do a better job of not letting those types back in.
Basically, I was pretty damn awesome 2 years ago, but this process has made me, incredibly, even more awesome than that and I get it and I respect it and I want to protect it.
2 years ago a friend of mine told me I had a gift that was God-given and that I needed to be careful with it, take care of it, not misuse it. I have the ability to do that now; I can and do believe I was given a set of skills that few are given and that whether I can exactly explain them or how I use them I must be careful with them. Being careful with them has meant being careful with myself.
So now that I'm about to celebrate these last 2 years and all this work I've done and all of the growth I've undergone and the way I think I like myself, but more than that, believe in myself more today than I did 2 years ago it hurts to know that there are those who I thought had been behind me these last 48 months that really haven't. Folks who don't get it, who don't see the change and/or don't care about the change. I wish more of my friends and family were congratulating me, that's true. I'd love for them to be here for the ceremony but honestly all I want is a congratulations... text me, email me, smoke signal me... just acknowledge that I worked my ass off, that I went through a rough time for almost a full two years and I made it out the other side.
And you know, even though I'm hurting because of how I've been ignored so far, I see this as a potential blessing in disguise. Whatever cuts need to be made need to happen now because it's time for me to step into whatever it is that's gonna make me great and somebody everyone remembers.
One thing I vocalized with one of the friends that I've not ever talked about, except maybe for a brief rant on Twitter, was about how I feel about my upcoming graduation. I've downplayed the accomplishment of getting a Master's degree. Some of that has been because I've come to realize that though it shouldn't be, my education can be intimidating to some. Some of the reasoning has been also because I don't think I've really understood what a big deal it is for me to (practically) have this, Not everyone graduates from college and even fewer go on to get post-graduate degrees so me being here is no laughing or unimportant matter.
In my mind, this M.Ed is happening because in order to do what I want to do I need it and, to be honest, was there ever a question that I could get it done? Of course not. So why would we get excited about the inevitable?
The general sentiment about my upcoming graduation can be summed up by a quote from my mother: "folks are tired of you graduating..."
My mother is proud of me, she tells me that all the time. There are others in my family who are proud as well and have told me, but I can't shake that statement. This thought that because I've graduated before, because I've proven to be the type of person to do well in school and accomplish things of this nature that it's not an important enough happening for people to just care about is starting to hurt.
So as I processed this with my friend, I began to realize that whether I recognized it or not, I've worked my ass off for this degree. Real blood, real sweat and definitely real tears. One of my professors warned us that we would do a lot of growth and changing and I did not believe him. I did not think I had a lot of growing to do that wasn't professionally. I was self-assured that as a self-aware black woman, I had done all the growing I was going to do for this period of my life. I was epicly wrong.
I also don't think I really became aware of how wrong I was to think that until lately. Not just my time in this program, but my time not in the working world and back in school has been so eye-opening. I have grown. I am more selfish and more worried about my own well-being, specifically mentally, than I was before. I am more apt to tell someone no. I do think about the long term mental/emotional effects of the things I take on and the things I agree to do. I am more cognizant of who has unfiltered access to me and who I'm willing to go that extra mile for. I'm not perfect and I know it and I'm not worried that my imperfections make me an unworthy person. I still have people in my life that I wish I could get rid of but I trust myself more to do a better job of not letting those types back in.
Basically, I was pretty damn awesome 2 years ago, but this process has made me, incredibly, even more awesome than that and I get it and I respect it and I want to protect it.
2 years ago a friend of mine told me I had a gift that was God-given and that I needed to be careful with it, take care of it, not misuse it. I have the ability to do that now; I can and do believe I was given a set of skills that few are given and that whether I can exactly explain them or how I use them I must be careful with them. Being careful with them has meant being careful with myself.
So now that I'm about to celebrate these last 2 years and all this work I've done and all of the growth I've undergone and the way I think I like myself, but more than that, believe in myself more today than I did 2 years ago it hurts to know that there are those who I thought had been behind me these last 48 months that really haven't. Folks who don't get it, who don't see the change and/or don't care about the change. I wish more of my friends and family were congratulating me, that's true. I'd love for them to be here for the ceremony but honestly all I want is a congratulations... text me, email me, smoke signal me... just acknowledge that I worked my ass off, that I went through a rough time for almost a full two years and I made it out the other side.
And you know, even though I'm hurting because of how I've been ignored so far, I see this as a potential blessing in disguise. Whatever cuts need to be made need to happen now because it's time for me to step into whatever it is that's gonna make me great and somebody everyone remembers.
1.26.2012
The Trouble With Emotion
About a week and a half ago I saw a tweet from a pseudo-celebrity I follow on Twitter that said something to the effect of her success being directly attributed to not showing emotion. I took immediate issue with the general sentiment of the tweet and went into my own mini-sermon about how dangerous it can be to think not showing emotion is a successful feat.
Our society trains our men to not show emotion; we define a person's level of masculinity, in part, along the lines of how much emotion they show. Cry too much? Not a man. Get giddy too often? Not a man. And you know what, that is not working out so well for the men in our society. They gravitate to aggression and anger as the only acceptable forms of emotional outlet. While acceptable emotions in and of themselves, you can't always be aggressive or angry and not expect to have some long term fails in your life, be it in your relationships or within yourself. So it's beyond me why we think that in order to be successful, truly successful, we have to not show emotion.
Before I really go into this, I do want to be clear that not showing emotion and controlling emotion are not the same. One can quickly lead to the other, but just because you are generally in control of your emotions doesn't mean you're not showing emotion; it means you know that it's appropriate to feel a range of emotions and you also know how and when to appropriately express them. For example, you know that when your boss adds one more thing to your overflowing plate it's acceptable to be angry or irritated, but it is not ok to show those emotions by flipping your desk or kicking people.
I really think that I would be in an entirely different life space if I knew how to show emotion; I think that in order to be successful (which for me extends beyond any wealth level into my personal life) I'm going to have to get a hold of it and learn how to do it.
When I look back on relationships that didn't work out like I had hoped, whether I was the straw that broke it or not, I can usually pinpoint my not showing emotion as a key to the undoing. It is really hard to be with someone when you don't feel sure of how they feel about you. I usually try to redirect my inability to show my emotion into actions; doing things to say "I love you" or "I care about you" but sometimes people want and need more than that.
I used to be of the mindset that a person would just have to learn to deal with it, but I've sincerely come to realize that this is a me-thing; this isn't a character flaw that we just have to adjust to, this is a thing that I have to handle if I want to have meaningful relationships (and if you read this blog, you know that's important to me).
Sometimes people just want you to be happy for them and show it. I may genuinely be excited for a person but struggle to show them that. Jumping up and down, changing the inflection in my voice, raising my eyebrows and smiling: all things that might show excitement but that I fail at doing. I can think of many reasons to explain how I've evolved into this, but in my opinion they don't matter. What matters is me making efforts to be better than I have been.
I know other people like me and I hear what people say about them. How people feel shunned because the person won't ever express how they feel, how folks think the person hates them when the person actually cares deeply for them, all because they've never heard them say it or seen anything to suggest it. I don't doubt it's been said about me. In fact, I remember a dear friend sharing good news with me and me responding and her saying, "why can't you just be happy for me?!" I thought what I said conveyed how happy I was for her, but I realized my flat affect definitely made what I said sound sarcastic.
And don't get me wrong, it's a struggle to be different than you have been, both within yourself and for others. When I try harder to inject emotion in my voice, folks think I'm trying to be funny and that can be discouraging to me since I already feel like I sound insincere (though I'm really not). It's easier to just do what I've always done, but I have good feelings about 2012 and I shall do my part to make sure it's the best it can be.
Starting with these emotions...
Our society trains our men to not show emotion; we define a person's level of masculinity, in part, along the lines of how much emotion they show. Cry too much? Not a man. Get giddy too often? Not a man. And you know what, that is not working out so well for the men in our society. They gravitate to aggression and anger as the only acceptable forms of emotional outlet. While acceptable emotions in and of themselves, you can't always be aggressive or angry and not expect to have some long term fails in your life, be it in your relationships or within yourself. So it's beyond me why we think that in order to be successful, truly successful, we have to not show emotion.
Before I really go into this, I do want to be clear that not showing emotion and controlling emotion are not the same. One can quickly lead to the other, but just because you are generally in control of your emotions doesn't mean you're not showing emotion; it means you know that it's appropriate to feel a range of emotions and you also know how and when to appropriately express them. For example, you know that when your boss adds one more thing to your overflowing plate it's acceptable to be angry or irritated, but it is not ok to show those emotions by flipping your desk or kicking people.
I really think that I would be in an entirely different life space if I knew how to show emotion; I think that in order to be successful (which for me extends beyond any wealth level into my personal life) I'm going to have to get a hold of it and learn how to do it.
When I look back on relationships that didn't work out like I had hoped, whether I was the straw that broke it or not, I can usually pinpoint my not showing emotion as a key to the undoing. It is really hard to be with someone when you don't feel sure of how they feel about you. I usually try to redirect my inability to show my emotion into actions; doing things to say "I love you" or "I care about you" but sometimes people want and need more than that.
I used to be of the mindset that a person would just have to learn to deal with it, but I've sincerely come to realize that this is a me-thing; this isn't a character flaw that we just have to adjust to, this is a thing that I have to handle if I want to have meaningful relationships (and if you read this blog, you know that's important to me).
Sometimes people just want you to be happy for them and show it. I may genuinely be excited for a person but struggle to show them that. Jumping up and down, changing the inflection in my voice, raising my eyebrows and smiling: all things that might show excitement but that I fail at doing. I can think of many reasons to explain how I've evolved into this, but in my opinion they don't matter. What matters is me making efforts to be better than I have been.
I know other people like me and I hear what people say about them. How people feel shunned because the person won't ever express how they feel, how folks think the person hates them when the person actually cares deeply for them, all because they've never heard them say it or seen anything to suggest it. I don't doubt it's been said about me. In fact, I remember a dear friend sharing good news with me and me responding and her saying, "why can't you just be happy for me?!" I thought what I said conveyed how happy I was for her, but I realized my flat affect definitely made what I said sound sarcastic.
And don't get me wrong, it's a struggle to be different than you have been, both within yourself and for others. When I try harder to inject emotion in my voice, folks think I'm trying to be funny and that can be discouraging to me since I already feel like I sound insincere (though I'm really not). It's easier to just do what I've always done, but I have good feelings about 2012 and I shall do my part to make sure it's the best it can be.
Starting with these emotions...
1.06.2012
2012
I've never really been big into resolutions. I'm just as apt to make a change in my life in January as I am in October. That sort of thing has way more to do with where I am in my head than where we are on a calendar.
Because of my profession and who I am at my core, and because everyone has wanted recaps of my trip, I've been processing different events/situations that occurred over my birthday weekend. I can't be clear enough that I had the time of my life with some really amazing people. I can honestly only think of maybe one or two individuals who weren't there who would've made it more complete, but everyone who WAS there was an integral part. That being said, there were seemingly innocuous situations that now that I've had time to reflect on, weren't all that innocuous.
One unintended birthday present I got was coming to a better understanding of what it is I don't understand about a couple of relationships that matter a shit ton to me. And in processing all that, I came to realize this role I play in a lot of my friendships that end with me holding the short end of the stick.
Just a day or so ago I was putting a bag together with items I would need at my internship. One of those items is a small spiral notebook that I use to keep up with what I'm doing during the day so that I can fill out a monthly report showing that I am obtaining the hours necessary to be licensed at the end of this graduate school journey. As I flipped through the notebook I found a little place where out of boredom or perhaps anxiousness I wrote a few lines about not feeling close to anyone except maybe my BFF. I go on to say that I'm surrounded by a bunch of emotional sucks (double entendre here) and how much I miss (get ready for this) J, my ex, because of how plain I was able to be with him.
I didn't write that all that long ago but as I re-read it all that played in my mind was an encounter with a friend NYE night after we'd all made it home. She kept asking me what I was thinking. Repeatedly she asked and I mostly remained quiet. When I did speak it was to say that I wasn't thinking about anything or that I didn't know what I was thinking. Truth was I didn't think she and I should have the conversation about what it was that I was thinking, but why didn't I just say that? Maybe it's because I was inebriated, or maybe it was because I couldn't get a firm grip around my thoughts, but there I was, someone genuinely interested in what was going on with me and I shut down.
Tell me that ain't sabotaging a good thing because you have too many damn issues to let the good thing happen to you...
I can really come up with some good explanations about why I did that, that doesn't involve me accepting that maybe I just don't have the good sense to let people not be emotional sucks, but I won't. Truth is, I just didn't know how to let the good thing happen and just open up...
In 2012, one of my plans is to wake up and recognize when someone's trying to be the individual I keep saying I don't have in my life and then chill out and let them do it.
Of course this has me now wondering what other areas of my life space are there opportunities for me to chill out and let someone be something important for me...
Because of my profession and who I am at my core, and because everyone has wanted recaps of my trip, I've been processing different events/situations that occurred over my birthday weekend. I can't be clear enough that I had the time of my life with some really amazing people. I can honestly only think of maybe one or two individuals who weren't there who would've made it more complete, but everyone who WAS there was an integral part. That being said, there were seemingly innocuous situations that now that I've had time to reflect on, weren't all that innocuous.
One unintended birthday present I got was coming to a better understanding of what it is I don't understand about a couple of relationships that matter a shit ton to me. And in processing all that, I came to realize this role I play in a lot of my friendships that end with me holding the short end of the stick.
Just a day or so ago I was putting a bag together with items I would need at my internship. One of those items is a small spiral notebook that I use to keep up with what I'm doing during the day so that I can fill out a monthly report showing that I am obtaining the hours necessary to be licensed at the end of this graduate school journey. As I flipped through the notebook I found a little place where out of boredom or perhaps anxiousness I wrote a few lines about not feeling close to anyone except maybe my BFF. I go on to say that I'm surrounded by a bunch of emotional sucks (double entendre here) and how much I miss (get ready for this) J, my ex, because of how plain I was able to be with him.
I didn't write that all that long ago but as I re-read it all that played in my mind was an encounter with a friend NYE night after we'd all made it home. She kept asking me what I was thinking. Repeatedly she asked and I mostly remained quiet. When I did speak it was to say that I wasn't thinking about anything or that I didn't know what I was thinking. Truth was I didn't think she and I should have the conversation about what it was that I was thinking, but why didn't I just say that? Maybe it's because I was inebriated, or maybe it was because I couldn't get a firm grip around my thoughts, but there I was, someone genuinely interested in what was going on with me and I shut down.
Tell me that ain't sabotaging a good thing because you have too many damn issues to let the good thing happen to you...
I can really come up with some good explanations about why I did that, that doesn't involve me accepting that maybe I just don't have the good sense to let people not be emotional sucks, but I won't. Truth is, I just didn't know how to let the good thing happen and just open up...
In 2012, one of my plans is to wake up and recognize when someone's trying to be the individual I keep saying I don't have in my life and then chill out and let them do it.
Of course this has me now wondering what other areas of my life space are there opportunities for me to chill out and let someone be something important for me...
10.10.2011
A Conversation With Myself About Safety in Euphemisms
I'm a fan of good euphemisms. My fanship is more tongue-in-cheek than anything though. I love a good euphemism because I'm fascinated by how people would rather sugarcoat their meaning than to just come on out and say it.
So I'm reading an assignment for class and it's becoming apparent to me that this book was written for white people. I keep thinking to myself "well, if I feel like I want to say that in class, I should probably say 'this book was written for folks with higher SES than myself...'
And then I have to ask myself why in the hell I would say that when what I actually mean, and what is actually true, is that this book was written for white people. It's not a bad thing, just a point that maybe what's included in this book isn't, as a whole work, applicable to a lot of people's lives, including my own.
And I tell myself that the reason I'd do that is two-fold -- for one, we talk about class because it's more encompassing and relevant than race in some cases and two, it'll keep all the white folks out of their feelings forcing me to spend more time assuring them I don't think they're racist and trying to refocus them on my actual point than making said actual point.
I agree with myself that this may be purposeful, but I wonder since when did we use class all the time? Why is that taken better than race and who actually decided that class was more encompassing than race?
And myself realizes that it was white people. White people decided we should use class because it's more encompassing and they have a point. Some things effect poor folks -- regardless of race -- more than rich folks. But what about things like that pesky unemployment rate which, sure, hurts poor folks but is actually hurting people of color a LOT more? But you know when you talk about class instead, when you say that something is hurting poor people, it gives white folks some cover. They can pretend that you're not really talking about their privilege or ignorance. You're talking about some other group of which they may or may not be a part of.
This makes sense. If you're in a room full of folks, most of whom will be white probably, and you make a generic comment about how terribly our tax laws treat the working poor versus the wealthy, it won't necessarily be immediately apparent who in the room falls on which side of that line. If you, on the other hand, discuss how terribly our criminal system treats black folks versus white folks -- well it's immediately apparent who's winning in this case and you know what people don't like? Embarrassment. Personal attacks. Feeling helpless. And when everybody knows who you are in relation to a generic and potentially harmful statement such as that, well, you're probably going to be embarrassed and feel attacked and helpless.
So that's why -- I told myself -- it'll just be easier for you to use "class" IF you feel like it's necessary to point out that this book wasn't written for everybody. This way, you recognize that not all white people are bad and they won't get down in their feelings forcing you to abandon your initial point to reassure them that they are not bad people simply for being born not colored.
So I'm reading an assignment for class and it's becoming apparent to me that this book was written for white people. I keep thinking to myself "well, if I feel like I want to say that in class, I should probably say 'this book was written for folks with higher SES than myself...'
And then I have to ask myself why in the hell I would say that when what I actually mean, and what is actually true, is that this book was written for white people. It's not a bad thing, just a point that maybe what's included in this book isn't, as a whole work, applicable to a lot of people's lives, including my own.
And I tell myself that the reason I'd do that is two-fold -- for one, we talk about class because it's more encompassing and relevant than race in some cases and two, it'll keep all the white folks out of their feelings forcing me to spend more time assuring them I don't think they're racist and trying to refocus them on my actual point than making said actual point.
I agree with myself that this may be purposeful, but I wonder since when did we use class all the time? Why is that taken better than race and who actually decided that class was more encompassing than race?
And myself realizes that it was white people. White people decided we should use class because it's more encompassing and they have a point. Some things effect poor folks -- regardless of race -- more than rich folks. But what about things like that pesky unemployment rate which, sure, hurts poor folks but is actually hurting people of color a LOT more? But you know when you talk about class instead, when you say that something is hurting poor people, it gives white folks some cover. They can pretend that you're not really talking about their privilege or ignorance. You're talking about some other group of which they may or may not be a part of.
This makes sense. If you're in a room full of folks, most of whom will be white probably, and you make a generic comment about how terribly our tax laws treat the working poor versus the wealthy, it won't necessarily be immediately apparent who in the room falls on which side of that line. If you, on the other hand, discuss how terribly our criminal system treats black folks versus white folks -- well it's immediately apparent who's winning in this case and you know what people don't like? Embarrassment. Personal attacks. Feeling helpless. And when everybody knows who you are in relation to a generic and potentially harmful statement such as that, well, you're probably going to be embarrassed and feel attacked and helpless.
So that's why -- I told myself -- it'll just be easier for you to use "class" IF you feel like it's necessary to point out that this book wasn't written for everybody. This way, you recognize that not all white people are bad and they won't get down in their feelings forcing you to abandon your initial point to reassure them that they are not bad people simply for being born not colored.
8.10.2011
The Bottom
My BFF called me just over an hour ago to tell me about his life since I saw him last week when he was in town for a conference. The highlight: he was diagnosed with major depression.
There's the obvious reasons he called to tell me about his breakdown on Monday and subsequent diagnosis: I'm in mental health, a counselor-in-training (practically a counselor at this point). I care a lot about mental health in the black community. I'm his BFF, I love and care about him, etc... but the more he talked the more I realized there was probably a bigger and deeper reason for his sharing. He didn't want me to experience it too.
My BFF and I are BFFs because we're so much alike. He pinpointed his ability, from both natural origins and because of our shared undergraduate major, to read people emotionally as one of the major causes of his illness. The more he talked the more it made sense to me why lately I've just been so tired. Why I pull away when people reach out to me and just want to be friends and do friend things. It's weird because as I've posted before, I think I understood it, but his situation made it real for me.
I'm damn intuitive. Like freakishly so. I can tell if something is wrong with a person, regardless of how well I know them, right off the bat. And then I have this strange need to take that burden off them and handle it myself or make them feel better, and I'm very adept at making people feel better. I've come to despise this about myself, but it's a double-edged sword. It's why people, especially people in need, are drawn to me. Why I'm going to make a good counselor. Why I always find myself in the middle of craziness. One of my attributes, really one of my blessings, is also a curse.
But all of that work is tiring. It is HARD to deal with my own stuff and go through a whole day taking on everyone else's stuff. It's exhausting and so it makes sense that sometimes I just want to be by myself. Sometimes I don't want to answer the phone. Sometimes even a simple request to hang out is just too much as I immediately know, even though it's sub-consciously -- that it will require me to be "on" and being "on" is too much all the time.
I know many of my friends might be surprised to read this. I also know that many of them aren't and have tried to get me to slow down and take better care, but it's hard to change something that feels like a gift -- a calling, even. What I need is to control it, not stop it.
My BFF's call today reminded me that if I'm not absolutely careful, I'm going to end up in his shoes and much more sooner than I suspect.
However, I'm so proud of him for being open about his struggles and being willing to grab this tiger by tail -- but then again that's him. It's one more thing that makes him amazeballs and I don't doubt that like everything else he tackles, this'll be handled effectively and in what'll feel like no time.
There's the obvious reasons he called to tell me about his breakdown on Monday and subsequent diagnosis: I'm in mental health, a counselor-in-training (practically a counselor at this point). I care a lot about mental health in the black community. I'm his BFF, I love and care about him, etc... but the more he talked the more I realized there was probably a bigger and deeper reason for his sharing. He didn't want me to experience it too.
My BFF and I are BFFs because we're so much alike. He pinpointed his ability, from both natural origins and because of our shared undergraduate major, to read people emotionally as one of the major causes of his illness. The more he talked the more it made sense to me why lately I've just been so tired. Why I pull away when people reach out to me and just want to be friends and do friend things. It's weird because as I've posted before, I think I understood it, but his situation made it real for me.
I'm damn intuitive. Like freakishly so. I can tell if something is wrong with a person, regardless of how well I know them, right off the bat. And then I have this strange need to take that burden off them and handle it myself or make them feel better, and I'm very adept at making people feel better. I've come to despise this about myself, but it's a double-edged sword. It's why people, especially people in need, are drawn to me. Why I'm going to make a good counselor. Why I always find myself in the middle of craziness. One of my attributes, really one of my blessings, is also a curse.
But all of that work is tiring. It is HARD to deal with my own stuff and go through a whole day taking on everyone else's stuff. It's exhausting and so it makes sense that sometimes I just want to be by myself. Sometimes I don't want to answer the phone. Sometimes even a simple request to hang out is just too much as I immediately know, even though it's sub-consciously -- that it will require me to be "on" and being "on" is too much all the time.
I know many of my friends might be surprised to read this. I also know that many of them aren't and have tried to get me to slow down and take better care, but it's hard to change something that feels like a gift -- a calling, even. What I need is to control it, not stop it.
My BFF's call today reminded me that if I'm not absolutely careful, I'm going to end up in his shoes and much more sooner than I suspect.
However, I'm so proud of him for being open about his struggles and being willing to grab this tiger by tail -- but then again that's him. It's one more thing that makes him amazeballs and I don't doubt that like everything else he tackles, this'll be handled effectively and in what'll feel like no time.
7.16.2011
Odds and Ends on a Saturday Night
Because she loves me in a publicly secret sort of way, @Reads4Pleasure tagged me to do this, and because I'm too lazy to go switch out my a/v cables on the tv so I can stream some netflix and nothing's on tv and I refuse to do any of the other work I need to do, I'm about to fill this out.
*cracks knuckles*
Seven Random Things About Me
I broke my leg when I was 2, the doctor set the cast wrong and so my hip turned out and now I walk funny (with my toes pointing out).
I've never been to a domestic beach. Was supposed to go last week, but got kidney stones so I guess I'm just not supposed to. *shrugs*
I don't like fruit. Any kind. I used to, apparently, but as far back as my memory serves, I never have.
I fenced in high school.
When I eat onion rings, I don't eat the onions. Just the fried, bad for you, high in cholesterol part.
I sucked my thumb until I was 9.
Scottie Pippen is my 4th half cousin, 2 times removed.
Q&A Session
Favorite color: Purple
Favorite song: NOT a question I enjoy. One of them is "Cupid" by 112.
Favorite dessert: Red Velvet Cheesecake
Biggest pet peeve: People who waste my time. In the immortal words of one, @whatuwontsay, "waste something that belongs to you..."
When You Are Upset, You: Nap, write or listen to music
Your Favorite Pet: Umm... one of the goldfish I fed too much to and killed?
Black or White: Why so harsh??
Biggest Fear: My mother's death or drowning...
Best Feature: This weird ability to stay calm when most others are freaking out.
Everyday Attitude: "Be me, do what I believe and to be myself..." - Left-Eye
What is Perfection: Anything that allows me to laugh, sleep and eat... simultaneously. Anything else is a cheap effort at it.
Guilty Pleasure: watching bad black movies.
I'll tag anyone who reads this to do it.
*cracks knuckles*
Seven Random Things About Me
I broke my leg when I was 2, the doctor set the cast wrong and so my hip turned out and now I walk funny (with my toes pointing out).
I've never been to a domestic beach. Was supposed to go last week, but got kidney stones so I guess I'm just not supposed to. *shrugs*
I don't like fruit. Any kind. I used to, apparently, but as far back as my memory serves, I never have.
I fenced in high school.
When I eat onion rings, I don't eat the onions. Just the fried, bad for you, high in cholesterol part.
I sucked my thumb until I was 9.
Scottie Pippen is my 4th half cousin, 2 times removed.
Q&A Session
Favorite color: Purple
Favorite song: NOT a question I enjoy. One of them is "Cupid" by 112.
Favorite dessert: Red Velvet Cheesecake
Biggest pet peeve: People who waste my time. In the immortal words of one, @whatuwontsay, "waste something that belongs to you..."
When You Are Upset, You: Nap, write or listen to music
Your Favorite Pet: Umm... one of the goldfish I fed too much to and killed?
Black or White: Why so harsh??
Biggest Fear: My mother's death or drowning...
Best Feature: This weird ability to stay calm when most others are freaking out.
Everyday Attitude: "Be me, do what I believe and to be myself..." - Left-Eye
What is Perfection: Anything that allows me to laugh, sleep and eat... simultaneously. Anything else is a cheap effort at it.
Guilty Pleasure: watching bad black movies.
I'll tag anyone who reads this to do it.
7.04.2011
Coming Home
Ever since I left my hometown 7 years ago to attend college, I've been struggling with the proper decorum for visiting when I'm back in town. That is, how do I prioritize who I visit and what's the best way to avoid seeing people I deem not important enough? As the years have gone by, this struggle has only intensified.
I was amazed, during my first few visits back home, how many people I didn't even think knew I had left were pressed to see me. I'd get home to a list that seemed a mile long of people who had called my mom and asked when I'd be home and then requested a visit. At first I tried to comply, but eventually I got fed up with spending hours at people's houses who a)weren't checking on me during the year and b)quite frankly bored me. Plus it was seriously cutting into how much time I had to spend with my friends and the other people I did want to see. Not to mention a lot of these people were friends of my mom, not friends of mine. I just stopped feeling beholden to them, especially once my mom gave me her blessing on it.
And now, when I come home, I pretty much just want to spend time resting or hanging out with my mom. There are definitely friends here I want to see but we're all getting older and so many of them have busy lives that they can't just stop because I'm in town. Funny -- that doesn't seem to be holding true for some of these other people, but whatevs.
I'm thinking about this stuff because I just got an email from a longtime mentor and friend. She and I have been emailing each other regularly since I was a junior in high school. I'm very close with her and her family and see them as family in a lot of ways. Lately, she's been asking me a lot about coming down to spend the night with them when I'm in town. I've had legitimate reasons in the past for having to turn down the invitation and I imagine that I'll continue to have legitimate reasons, but her request this time was less asking and more "I know I keep asking and I keep asking because you haven't said yes..."
I could've made time to acquiesce and it would seem that I would want to given my relationship with them. Her husband is like a father figure for me and her sons are like little brothers. I owe them so much and they exposed me to so many things for which I'm forever grateful. But thinking about spending a night just doesn't excite me the way it used to.
I've grown a lot in the last 7 years, which is how long I've been away from home and thus away from them. I've matured, been exposed to new things and situations and people and I have a larger world view. Though I love them, when I'm with them I can't help but feel like I'm being closed in. The things they worry about, think about, joke about and even judge feel so small and miniscule to me. This sounds like such an exponentially ridiculous thing to use as why I don't want to fulfill a simple request, but it's still my truth. On the times I have visited, I couldn't get back to my mama's house fast enough.
Having the background that I do, I'm frequently around less, shall we say "cultured," individuals. This means I've had to dance around the line of acceptable and unacceptable. How much ignorance do you put up with before you hip people to game. Like when my uncles refer to gay men as "sissies" -- not out of malice, but out of ignorance. Do I remind myself that just because a white person tells me their grandmother calls black folks "nigger" out of ignorance, that doesn't change the offense or do I tell myself my uncles just don't know any better and let it go. When I'm with them -- this family -- and they say something left of center, I feel like my silence okays it, but I know that my speaking up won't do much to change what they think. Most times it's not worth it to me to cause an issue when nothing will change, but it still plays in my mind that I know better, but didn't say anything.
Maybe my sensitivity to this has more to do with feeling like I'm outgrowing them and not being ok with that, than any actual ignorance. I don't know. But I do know that I've got to figure this out. I can't keep avoiding the issue.
I was amazed, during my first few visits back home, how many people I didn't even think knew I had left were pressed to see me. I'd get home to a list that seemed a mile long of people who had called my mom and asked when I'd be home and then requested a visit. At first I tried to comply, but eventually I got fed up with spending hours at people's houses who a)weren't checking on me during the year and b)quite frankly bored me. Plus it was seriously cutting into how much time I had to spend with my friends and the other people I did want to see. Not to mention a lot of these people were friends of my mom, not friends of mine. I just stopped feeling beholden to them, especially once my mom gave me her blessing on it.
And now, when I come home, I pretty much just want to spend time resting or hanging out with my mom. There are definitely friends here I want to see but we're all getting older and so many of them have busy lives that they can't just stop because I'm in town. Funny -- that doesn't seem to be holding true for some of these other people, but whatevs.
I'm thinking about this stuff because I just got an email from a longtime mentor and friend. She and I have been emailing each other regularly since I was a junior in high school. I'm very close with her and her family and see them as family in a lot of ways. Lately, she's been asking me a lot about coming down to spend the night with them when I'm in town. I've had legitimate reasons in the past for having to turn down the invitation and I imagine that I'll continue to have legitimate reasons, but her request this time was less asking and more "I know I keep asking and I keep asking because you haven't said yes..."
I could've made time to acquiesce and it would seem that I would want to given my relationship with them. Her husband is like a father figure for me and her sons are like little brothers. I owe them so much and they exposed me to so many things for which I'm forever grateful. But thinking about spending a night just doesn't excite me the way it used to.
I've grown a lot in the last 7 years, which is how long I've been away from home and thus away from them. I've matured, been exposed to new things and situations and people and I have a larger world view. Though I love them, when I'm with them I can't help but feel like I'm being closed in. The things they worry about, think about, joke about and even judge feel so small and miniscule to me. This sounds like such an exponentially ridiculous thing to use as why I don't want to fulfill a simple request, but it's still my truth. On the times I have visited, I couldn't get back to my mama's house fast enough.
Having the background that I do, I'm frequently around less, shall we say "cultured," individuals. This means I've had to dance around the line of acceptable and unacceptable. How much ignorance do you put up with before you hip people to game. Like when my uncles refer to gay men as "sissies" -- not out of malice, but out of ignorance. Do I remind myself that just because a white person tells me their grandmother calls black folks "nigger" out of ignorance, that doesn't change the offense or do I tell myself my uncles just don't know any better and let it go. When I'm with them -- this family -- and they say something left of center, I feel like my silence okays it, but I know that my speaking up won't do much to change what they think. Most times it's not worth it to me to cause an issue when nothing will change, but it still plays in my mind that I know better, but didn't say anything.
Maybe my sensitivity to this has more to do with feeling like I'm outgrowing them and not being ok with that, than any actual ignorance. I don't know. But I do know that I've got to figure this out. I can't keep avoiding the issue.
6.06.2011
The Sex Post
Author's Note: This is a LONG post, even for me (y'all know I be long-winded) and I planned, initially, to break this up into separate posts, but I feel like it's something that oughta be kept as one piece; so, read it in chunks if you have to. :)
I've not talked a whole lot about sex on this blog. There's no "sex" label (though there is a "sexuality" label) and if you type sex into the search box, it only brings up a handful of posts. I typically write about the things that are pertinent in my life so the absence of "sex" as a topic would suggest it's not pertinent, or current, or palpable.
I suppose in a way that's true, and I'll clarify that later. However I don't think it's fair to ever assume that sex isn't a part of most people's lives in some form. Regardless of gender, if we're not talking about or doing it, we're thinking about talking about it or doing it. These days sex is everywhere and even if you're trying not to think about it, you're still thinking about it.
I decided to write this post because of an interaction I had with a couple of friends a few days ago about an unexpected date I went on. For everyone I told this story to -- and it is quite the story -- sex was one of the first topics that came up. I was either being told to get ready for it or told I shouldn't. There's obviously backstory on this, but suffice it to say the guy I was with and I have serious history as well as serious sexual tension.
With the exception of the 2 aforementioned friends, sex was but one of a litany of issues that needed to be discussed in the aftermath (and beforemath... wait, is that a word?) of this date. It fell midway on the totem pole -- important because it's sex, but not important because it's just sex, and the least of the issues I have with him -- and with most everyone it was a passing comment or joke or, in one case, a rule ("don't have sex with him, you'll get AIDS" -- ftr, he does not have AIDS and it was admittedly an ignorant, crude rule/joke).
For someone who likes to use stories to make a point, I'm sometimes a terrible storyteller. It's partially because I'm an excellent emotion detective. I can read an audience like none other and if, as I'm telling you a story, I can sense your disinterest, my story gets really short. I don't want to waste either of our time. And so, while I knew both friends were generally interested in hearing my story, I quickly got the feeling that the more I talked, the lest interest I was keeping.
Right now, I can't really remember exactly what I said, but I did mention that this guy and I have this interesting history, an important piece of which is the ever-present sexual tension. Upon the ending to my story one of them asked, "well did you have a good time?" I responded that I had and then the same one asked, a little more anxiously, "did you have sex with him?" It hadn't occurred to me that euphemisms were being used or that a good date ends with good sex.
Don't get me wrong -- I'm not naive or new to any of this. I know that a good date doesn't always end with good sex. I suppose, however, that what I did realize in that moment was how differently sex interacts with my life than some of my friends. I think processing that is what led me to tweet something about being associated with many individuals others consider "hoes" (this, of course, is a whole other post in and of itself).
We all talked a few more moments and then the conversation was over. I was left with a question -- and it was really just a question -- if there's so much sexual tension between this guy and I and I feel it and he feels it then what's stopping us? Rather, what's stopping me, because I'm always the one to stop it. What makes me so different? The truth is I'm not that different and honestly, this isn't that deep. I just have a different background and thus a different present relationship with sex.
Back when I was in my tween and then teen years, I was heavily involved with my church's youth group (wait, wait, before you think "oh, I know where this is going..."). Those years of my life have become so instrumental to who I am and how I do things. I learned a lot about my faith, who I am as a person and what my place is in the world during those years. Obviously you can't have a group of teenagers who spend a lot of time together and not ever talk about sex. One of the things I appreciated then and carry with me now as I work with teens in various ways is frankness, especially around issues of sex. Our adult leaders were honest with us about sex and there were enough older teens through the years who were also frank and honest with us.
A lot of those older teens were like older brothers and sisters to me so when THEY told me that I didn't need to be having sex, I believed them. Whole heartedly. And I also took it seriously to save myself for the person I was going to marry. The concept made sense to me and I also couldn't overlook the fact that I had varying levels of exposure and experience to and with sex at my disposal and they all pretty much said the same thing: "wait."
So wait I did. I was like every other teen; the waiting wasn't easy and I got myself in a lot of situations that were not easy to get out of, but somehow or another I managed to escape each one with everything intact. The other key point here is that while I was in high school I had just as many friends who were having sex as I had who weren't. The peer pressure was pretty even on both sides. But then I got to college...
There's something about college that can be hard to explain if you didn't go, or didn't live on campus or had a bad experience. I think it's summed up well, though, in the idea that college is more than your classes; in fact, I think classes are the least of your educational opportunities in college. College is about the people you meet and the experiences you have that all challenge who you are and what you believe and why. I remember a sunny afternoon during my freshman year, sitting out on one of the lawns with friends debating religion and Christian faith and walking away from it thinking that I had to tell all my friends who were preparing themselves for college that they needed to start thinking about why they believe what they believe because it wasn't enough to just believe something -- you gotta back it up.
By the time I entered college, some of my ideas about sex had changed a little bit. I wasn't really not having sex because of my faith or really even because I wanted to save myself. I wasn't having sex because I didn't see a need. My relationship with J was relatively new, from a romantic standpoint, and we had talked about sex and at the time I believed he was serious about not having sex for religious reasons so I didn't press the issue much -- it was fine with me.
But the funny thing about everyone around you doing something that you're not doing is that you've got to find out what the big deal is. So while in high school, those who were having sex weren't really talking about it that much (and of course we all know those first few years of having sex, nobody knows what they're doing for real, anyway) and the rest of us who weren't obviously weren't talking about it, the people I met in college WERE talking about it. Sex became the cornerstone of everything -- the juiciest gossip all had it's roots in the sex somebody was or wasn't having with somebody else. It also didn't help to realize that almost literally everyone around me was having sex with each other (or maybe it did help since I thought that was somewhat ridiculous).
I'm being a little facetious here. Not everyone I was associated with in college was busy having sex. More than likely the numbers resembled high school a lot more than I thought at the time, but it sure felt like more folks were doing it (cause there was a lot more talking going on). In any case, like I said, the funny thing about (feeling like) everyone around you doing something you're not doing is that you've got to find out what the big deal is. So I did.
I'll spare you the details on that one because details aren't important. I still didn't get what the big deal was, and I also didn't feel this sense of dread that I recall my "brothers and sisters" making me feel like I would when I was 14. This, of course, isn't to say that later on I didn't feel that way, or eventually figure out what the big deal was. And now when I talk to young girls, I encourage them to wait, but I always talk about how difficult I know that can be.
So here we are present day. I'm a lot smarter than I was then, a little more experienced and I'm definitely a lot better at ignoring that feeling you get when everyone around you seems like they're having fun. I've got friends who never ask me about my sex life and I've got friends who seem to always inquire in some way. Ultimately, I've deemed sex as one of those things that I'm just not going to die without and that I really respect what it does to an individual and to a relationship, so for the most part, I don't partake in it unless I'm in a relationship.
All this detail is a lot more than some of my closest pals know about me. One of the reasons is that as I went through that process of getting smarter and more experienced, I learn that sex is one of those topics that people have STRONG feelings about and usually if you don't agree with them, it's a fight. Folks just don't like to be judged for what they are or aren't doing in the bedroom and disagreement feels like judgement (because in some cases it is) to a lot of people. Even something as simple as just stating you do it differently can read to some folks like placement of values. I don't have interest in assuring folks that I just do it and see it differently and that I don't think they're bad people for however they do what they do or don't do when it comes to sex.
This has also meant that it plays a whole different role in my life and changes where I place my priorities and values. Doesn't mean I have it all figured out or know exactly what I'm doing -- just that I know what works fo rme so I do that. I get my kicks in other ways...
I've not talked a whole lot about sex on this blog. There's no "sex" label (though there is a "sexuality" label) and if you type sex into the search box, it only brings up a handful of posts. I typically write about the things that are pertinent in my life so the absence of "sex" as a topic would suggest it's not pertinent, or current, or palpable.
I suppose in a way that's true, and I'll clarify that later. However I don't think it's fair to ever assume that sex isn't a part of most people's lives in some form. Regardless of gender, if we're not talking about or doing it, we're thinking about talking about it or doing it. These days sex is everywhere and even if you're trying not to think about it, you're still thinking about it.
I decided to write this post because of an interaction I had with a couple of friends a few days ago about an unexpected date I went on. For everyone I told this story to -- and it is quite the story -- sex was one of the first topics that came up. I was either being told to get ready for it or told I shouldn't. There's obviously backstory on this, but suffice it to say the guy I was with and I have serious history as well as serious sexual tension.
With the exception of the 2 aforementioned friends, sex was but one of a litany of issues that needed to be discussed in the aftermath (and beforemath... wait, is that a word?) of this date. It fell midway on the totem pole -- important because it's sex, but not important because it's just sex, and the least of the issues I have with him -- and with most everyone it was a passing comment or joke or, in one case, a rule ("don't have sex with him, you'll get AIDS" -- ftr, he does not have AIDS and it was admittedly an ignorant, crude rule/joke).
For someone who likes to use stories to make a point, I'm sometimes a terrible storyteller. It's partially because I'm an excellent emotion detective. I can read an audience like none other and if, as I'm telling you a story, I can sense your disinterest, my story gets really short. I don't want to waste either of our time. And so, while I knew both friends were generally interested in hearing my story, I quickly got the feeling that the more I talked, the lest interest I was keeping.
Right now, I can't really remember exactly what I said, but I did mention that this guy and I have this interesting history, an important piece of which is the ever-present sexual tension. Upon the ending to my story one of them asked, "well did you have a good time?" I responded that I had and then the same one asked, a little more anxiously, "did you have sex with him?" It hadn't occurred to me that euphemisms were being used or that a good date ends with good sex.
Don't get me wrong -- I'm not naive or new to any of this. I know that a good date doesn't always end with good sex. I suppose, however, that what I did realize in that moment was how differently sex interacts with my life than some of my friends. I think processing that is what led me to tweet something about being associated with many individuals others consider "hoes" (this, of course, is a whole other post in and of itself).
We all talked a few more moments and then the conversation was over. I was left with a question -- and it was really just a question -- if there's so much sexual tension between this guy and I and I feel it and he feels it then what's stopping us? Rather, what's stopping me, because I'm always the one to stop it. What makes me so different? The truth is I'm not that different and honestly, this isn't that deep. I just have a different background and thus a different present relationship with sex.
Back when I was in my tween and then teen years, I was heavily involved with my church's youth group (wait, wait, before you think "oh, I know where this is going..."). Those years of my life have become so instrumental to who I am and how I do things. I learned a lot about my faith, who I am as a person and what my place is in the world during those years. Obviously you can't have a group of teenagers who spend a lot of time together and not ever talk about sex. One of the things I appreciated then and carry with me now as I work with teens in various ways is frankness, especially around issues of sex. Our adult leaders were honest with us about sex and there were enough older teens through the years who were also frank and honest with us.
A lot of those older teens were like older brothers and sisters to me so when THEY told me that I didn't need to be having sex, I believed them. Whole heartedly. And I also took it seriously to save myself for the person I was going to marry. The concept made sense to me and I also couldn't overlook the fact that I had varying levels of exposure and experience to and with sex at my disposal and they all pretty much said the same thing: "wait."
So wait I did. I was like every other teen; the waiting wasn't easy and I got myself in a lot of situations that were not easy to get out of, but somehow or another I managed to escape each one with everything intact. The other key point here is that while I was in high school I had just as many friends who were having sex as I had who weren't. The peer pressure was pretty even on both sides. But then I got to college...
There's something about college that can be hard to explain if you didn't go, or didn't live on campus or had a bad experience. I think it's summed up well, though, in the idea that college is more than your classes; in fact, I think classes are the least of your educational opportunities in college. College is about the people you meet and the experiences you have that all challenge who you are and what you believe and why. I remember a sunny afternoon during my freshman year, sitting out on one of the lawns with friends debating religion and Christian faith and walking away from it thinking that I had to tell all my friends who were preparing themselves for college that they needed to start thinking about why they believe what they believe because it wasn't enough to just believe something -- you gotta back it up.
By the time I entered college, some of my ideas about sex had changed a little bit. I wasn't really not having sex because of my faith or really even because I wanted to save myself. I wasn't having sex because I didn't see a need. My relationship with J was relatively new, from a romantic standpoint, and we had talked about sex and at the time I believed he was serious about not having sex for religious reasons so I didn't press the issue much -- it was fine with me.
But the funny thing about everyone around you doing something that you're not doing is that you've got to find out what the big deal is. So while in high school, those who were having sex weren't really talking about it that much (and of course we all know those first few years of having sex, nobody knows what they're doing for real, anyway) and the rest of us who weren't obviously weren't talking about it, the people I met in college WERE talking about it. Sex became the cornerstone of everything -- the juiciest gossip all had it's roots in the sex somebody was or wasn't having with somebody else. It also didn't help to realize that almost literally everyone around me was having sex with each other (or maybe it did help since I thought that was somewhat ridiculous).
I'm being a little facetious here. Not everyone I was associated with in college was busy having sex. More than likely the numbers resembled high school a lot more than I thought at the time, but it sure felt like more folks were doing it (cause there was a lot more talking going on). In any case, like I said, the funny thing about (feeling like) everyone around you doing something you're not doing is that you've got to find out what the big deal is. So I did.
I'll spare you the details on that one because details aren't important. I still didn't get what the big deal was, and I also didn't feel this sense of dread that I recall my "brothers and sisters" making me feel like I would when I was 14. This, of course, isn't to say that later on I didn't feel that way, or eventually figure out what the big deal was. And now when I talk to young girls, I encourage them to wait, but I always talk about how difficult I know that can be.
So here we are present day. I'm a lot smarter than I was then, a little more experienced and I'm definitely a lot better at ignoring that feeling you get when everyone around you seems like they're having fun. I've got friends who never ask me about my sex life and I've got friends who seem to always inquire in some way. Ultimately, I've deemed sex as one of those things that I'm just not going to die without and that I really respect what it does to an individual and to a relationship, so for the most part, I don't partake in it unless I'm in a relationship.
All this detail is a lot more than some of my closest pals know about me. One of the reasons is that as I went through that process of getting smarter and more experienced, I learn that sex is one of those topics that people have STRONG feelings about and usually if you don't agree with them, it's a fight. Folks just don't like to be judged for what they are or aren't doing in the bedroom and disagreement feels like judgement (because in some cases it is) to a lot of people. Even something as simple as just stating you do it differently can read to some folks like placement of values. I don't have interest in assuring folks that I just do it and see it differently and that I don't think they're bad people for however they do what they do or don't do when it comes to sex.
This has also meant that it plays a whole different role in my life and changes where I place my priorities and values. Doesn't mean I have it all figured out or know exactly what I'm doing -- just that I know what works fo rme so I do that. I get my kicks in other ways...
5.27.2011
Introducing Myself to Myself
Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.-Marianne Williamson
I didn't used to like this quote very much. I don't know why. Maybe I felt like it made no sense; maybe I felt like it was too abstract, I'm not sure, but today someone gave me this quote because it made them think of me and for the first time I resonated with it.
Katt Williams is often quoted for what he said about Whitney Houston. "Folks don't say the same sh*t about you for 10 years..." he says. There are things and characteristics in me that people see, pick up on and are drawn to that I've downplayed for years. I've acted like I'm not as awesome as people tell me I am. Partly because I haven't always thought it to be true and partly because I was afraid to lose people who might think I was too full of myself.
Just the other night as I had dinner with some friends, we talked about how we struggled to accept compliments. There are theories for why black folks struggle to just say thank you when someone pays them a compliment but at the end of the day it boils down to not feeling worthy. Not feeling like the compliment you're being given is accurate.
But today it clicked for me that I'll never get what it is God has for me if I don't accept the things He's already given me. He can't continue to bless me if I don't appreciate the blessings He's already bestowed. I play myself short to make those around me feel good; to remind them that I don't think they're less than me instead of stepping into what is mine because every time I don't, someone else does...
To paraphrase something I was told today: I am who I am, I deserve what I get and I'll never be all I can be or receive all I am due until I acknowledge those facts.
5.17.2011
Owning Myself Pt 2
Read Pt 1 here
When I was a junior in high school, I was super involved and there were a litany of reasons for that. One spring afternoon -- the details of which escape me -- I found myself sitting outside of then-BFF's mom's office in the middle of the student center during the busiest time of the day, crying. I remember I felt like the weight of the world was on me, that I had no one on my side and that I desperately needed a hug. Through my tears I saw people walking past me staring. I was relatively popular -- people knew me, even if they didn't know me -- so the crying thing was an attention grabber.
I had previously been inside the office with my 2 best friends and when I didn't return after a few moments, they came looking for me. Though my head was down, I knew they were standing there and I waited on one of them to pat me on the back or hug me or even just ask me what was wrong. They didn't. They both went back inside the office with not a word. They treated me no better than people I didn't even know.
Eventually I got up and went to dry my eyes in a more private location. As I sat in the chapel composing myself, I subconsciously and consciously internalized that my emotions were too heavy for others to handle. That experience taught my 16 yr old fragile self 2 lessons. The most damaging one was: I didn't have a right to cry or be upset -- that it wasn't safe to do that; if I did, no one would save me, no one would care and I would be left alone.
That's a lot for a vulnerable 16 year old to ingest. I was already emotionally fragile and that was the straw. It was that moment that I became emotionless. It just wasn't safe, otherwise.
And in the ensuing years, that lesson has been reinforced for me. More than once I've been told by someone close to me that I had to be strong for those around me. When J killed himself, so many people supported my inability to express my deep sadness, fear and loss. They told me, in essence, that I was a better person because I didn't fall a part like I wanted to inside.
When I've tried -- because I think this person will get me, because I hope this new person will be the one with whom I have that relationship -- I've been shut down. "Calm down..." or "It's not that serious" or "If you cry, I'll cry..."
I've been made to feel like I'm of no use to anyone if I'm emotional and I've gotten very good at shutting it down. I don't feel. If I do accidentally feel, I shove it down. I can't be seen weak and vulnerable because my weak and vulnerable self is not a person anyone wants, cares about or can love.
Gosh -- does that not sound terrible? It feels terrible. The other lesson I learned that day was how terrible it feels and I vowed not to let anyone else feel that way. I'm really good at making people feel comfortable and I do it with ease. I'm the consummate friend -- I never need support and I give endless support. The only trapping is that I DO need support; I probably need it more than most.
I think all of my little beefs with some of my friends really go back to not feeling like we have genuinely intimate relationships; that they're getting a hell of a friend and I'm getting superficial bullshit; that I'm replaceable, not worth noticing and unimportant. In some ways this is their fault, but in a lot of ways, it has nothing to do with them and revolves around things I have to handle and deal with.
This is me owning that I have this wall and I have to get over it and I have to reframe the lesson I learned that day and the lesson that's been reinforced. Maybe I need to get rid of friends who can't support me emotionally -- who are, in essence, emotionally incompetent and unable to hold me up when I'm falling. I need to find people who not only can do that, but who do so with little fanfare and effort, who do so because they care. But whatever I do, it has to happen soon because I've been given yet another chance to have the support I've been wanting and needing and I really feel like if I don't jump on it this time, there won't be a next.
When I was a junior in high school, I was super involved and there were a litany of reasons for that. One spring afternoon -- the details of which escape me -- I found myself sitting outside of then-BFF's mom's office in the middle of the student center during the busiest time of the day, crying. I remember I felt like the weight of the world was on me, that I had no one on my side and that I desperately needed a hug. Through my tears I saw people walking past me staring. I was relatively popular -- people knew me, even if they didn't know me -- so the crying thing was an attention grabber.
I had previously been inside the office with my 2 best friends and when I didn't return after a few moments, they came looking for me. Though my head was down, I knew they were standing there and I waited on one of them to pat me on the back or hug me or even just ask me what was wrong. They didn't. They both went back inside the office with not a word. They treated me no better than people I didn't even know.
Eventually I got up and went to dry my eyes in a more private location. As I sat in the chapel composing myself, I subconsciously and consciously internalized that my emotions were too heavy for others to handle. That experience taught my 16 yr old fragile self 2 lessons. The most damaging one was: I didn't have a right to cry or be upset -- that it wasn't safe to do that; if I did, no one would save me, no one would care and I would be left alone.
That's a lot for a vulnerable 16 year old to ingest. I was already emotionally fragile and that was the straw. It was that moment that I became emotionless. It just wasn't safe, otherwise.
And in the ensuing years, that lesson has been reinforced for me. More than once I've been told by someone close to me that I had to be strong for those around me. When J killed himself, so many people supported my inability to express my deep sadness, fear and loss. They told me, in essence, that I was a better person because I didn't fall a part like I wanted to inside.
When I've tried -- because I think this person will get me, because I hope this new person will be the one with whom I have that relationship -- I've been shut down. "Calm down..." or "It's not that serious" or "If you cry, I'll cry..."
I've been made to feel like I'm of no use to anyone if I'm emotional and I've gotten very good at shutting it down. I don't feel. If I do accidentally feel, I shove it down. I can't be seen weak and vulnerable because my weak and vulnerable self is not a person anyone wants, cares about or can love.
Gosh -- does that not sound terrible? It feels terrible. The other lesson I learned that day was how terrible it feels and I vowed not to let anyone else feel that way. I'm really good at making people feel comfortable and I do it with ease. I'm the consummate friend -- I never need support and I give endless support. The only trapping is that I DO need support; I probably need it more than most.
I think all of my little beefs with some of my friends really go back to not feeling like we have genuinely intimate relationships; that they're getting a hell of a friend and I'm getting superficial bullshit; that I'm replaceable, not worth noticing and unimportant. In some ways this is their fault, but in a lot of ways, it has nothing to do with them and revolves around things I have to handle and deal with.
This is me owning that I have this wall and I have to get over it and I have to reframe the lesson I learned that day and the lesson that's been reinforced. Maybe I need to get rid of friends who can't support me emotionally -- who are, in essence, emotionally incompetent and unable to hold me up when I'm falling. I need to find people who not only can do that, but who do so with little fanfare and effort, who do so because they care. But whatever I do, it has to happen soon because I've been given yet another chance to have the support I've been wanting and needing and I really feel like if I don't jump on it this time, there won't be a next.
Owning Myself Pt 1
In every post I write, I want to show a deeper part of who I am so that you can understand me better. Sometimes I win, sometimes I lose -- sometimes I realize I've shown way more of myself than I wanted to.
I also want to understand myself better and writing has always been cathartic. It's offered me an opportunity to become object to the things that I'm going through -- meaning, I do not act because of the things that are happening to me, but rather I am able to analyze and observe them objectively.
As part of a class I'm in, I'm in an experiential counseling group. It's a personal growth group and we're all supposed to come up with a personal growth goal. Mine is to find the wall of vulnerability. I have shared a lot with a lot of different people, but I know that vulnerability is tough for me. I just can't connect that with how it's possible that I feel like I'm an open book.
One thing that I talk about ad nauseum here are my friendships. This group is making me accept something I've known for a long time, but was scared to really admit: I need close relationships. Intimate ones. The kinds where I am who I am completely and you are who you are completely. I strive for those, I work my ass off to have them and yet I don't feel like I have them.
I feel like I have a whole bunch of people pretending to be close, using and abusing how good I am at making them feel comfortable without asking for a lot in return or being needy or helpless... but I don't have the one thing I need.
I also can't put all the blame on other people. There are people who want to have intimate relationships with me but there's a wall I've put up -- I can't be vulnerable for them. Vulnerability is one of the key ingredients to this and I want to figure out where that wall shows up and how I can knock it down because I know, I won't make it much longer not having anyone I consider an intimate friend.
Today, I verbalized things that I've thought about why I can't be vulnerable for people I think are my friends. Verbalizing them made them real and now I know that if I want to continue to share who I am, I have to put it here. I have to own what has happened to me, how I've allowed it to define who I am and what I do, if I want to move past it.
Read pt 2 here
I also want to understand myself better and writing has always been cathartic. It's offered me an opportunity to become object to the things that I'm going through -- meaning, I do not act because of the things that are happening to me, but rather I am able to analyze and observe them objectively.
As part of a class I'm in, I'm in an experiential counseling group. It's a personal growth group and we're all supposed to come up with a personal growth goal. Mine is to find the wall of vulnerability. I have shared a lot with a lot of different people, but I know that vulnerability is tough for me. I just can't connect that with how it's possible that I feel like I'm an open book.
One thing that I talk about ad nauseum here are my friendships. This group is making me accept something I've known for a long time, but was scared to really admit: I need close relationships. Intimate ones. The kinds where I am who I am completely and you are who you are completely. I strive for those, I work my ass off to have them and yet I don't feel like I have them.
I feel like I have a whole bunch of people pretending to be close, using and abusing how good I am at making them feel comfortable without asking for a lot in return or being needy or helpless... but I don't have the one thing I need.
I also can't put all the blame on other people. There are people who want to have intimate relationships with me but there's a wall I've put up -- I can't be vulnerable for them. Vulnerability is one of the key ingredients to this and I want to figure out where that wall shows up and how I can knock it down because I know, I won't make it much longer not having anyone I consider an intimate friend.
Today, I verbalized things that I've thought about why I can't be vulnerable for people I think are my friends. Verbalizing them made them real and now I know that if I want to continue to share who I am, I have to put it here. I have to own what has happened to me, how I've allowed it to define who I am and what I do, if I want to move past it.
Read pt 2 here
5.02.2011
Mismatched
My mama dropped some major knowledge on me. Or maybe it’s just major because it resonated with where I am right now. My most recent post, though focused on triggers for me in my life post-J, is really – as it seems everything I ponder and think through these days is – really rooted in the relationships I have now. They all become big sticking points for me at some time or another, but I’ve got a couple that seem to be at least in the back of my mind. But we’ll get to that in a second.
My mom and I had a lot of undivided attention to give to each other this weekend since her power’s out thanks to the storms that occurred last week in the South (btw, I’m PISSED at how little national coverage it’s gotten. There was some serious devastation right outside of my home city (well in it, too) and in Tuscaloosa, AL where I also have family). On my last night here she and I ended up in her bed talking about a whole lot of stuff and we landed on friendships.
In high school, I had a friend who I’ve referred to here as “then-BFF.” I’ve wanted to tell the story of our friendship, but like my relationship with J (and most other things in my life that have had a substantial impact) it’s long, arduous and not fit for a single or couple of blog posts. In any case, the synopsis is she and I became friends our sophomore year in high school, she had some ulterior motives around our friendship, got what she wanted and then ended our friendship shortly after graduation. Vague enough?
My mom talked about how she tried to keep me away from her because she could tell that this girl wasn’t a true friend. She said, “it pissed me off that she was using you that way… I always knew she thought she was better than you,” and she added that she knew I couldn’t see it then.
In an attempt to hear more of her reasoning, I asked my mom to tell me what it was about this girl that led her to conclude that she wasn’t going to be a good friend. Truth is, I always thought something was amiss about our friendship so I wondered if my mom could name what it was. Moms told me, “she was too cutesy cutesy…” In other words, too focused on self, looks and appearance. She went on to explain how this girl and I were mismatched and how she could tell from jump that something just wasn’t right.
My mom has an amazing ability to read people and I like to think I get some of that ability from her. Even in high school when this girl and I became friends, I knew something was wrong. I could feel it – things just didn’t sit right. I asked myself, for the duration of our 3 year friendship: “why is she friends with me?” From the way our friendship started right on up until the last day she spoke to me, that question hung on like a groupie. I couldn't shake it, though I tried and it would always rear it's ugly head at the most inconvenient of times: like when she conveniently failed to call to tell me she was headed to a party/event she knew I'd wanted to attend or making it a point to let me know a couple of folks had told her they thought I was a "bitch..."
It definitely wasn’t that I didn’t think I deserved her friendship. It was that I couldn’t figure out what would make a girl like her think that she and I had something, anything in common. Truth was, we actually did have a few things in common and I think if she had been more concerned with herself as a person, we might still be friends now, but that’s neither here nor there. Just like my mom did, I saw the mismatch but I was also a teenager who had her own wishes for the types of friends she’d have and so I played along to get along – being that girl’s friend exposed me to a lot of things that I would’ve never been exposed to without her.
So back to those relationships that bother me the most in my present life: I feel mismatched. I find myself wondering why these individuals are friends with me and this is something I’ve expressed here before – but now I have a larger idea to go with it. I want to know why we’re friends because the last time I was friends with somebody who didn’t feel right for me, it ended terribly. Though it’s true that now I’m grateful for both the experience of having had the then-BFF as a friend and the experience of losing her AND the experience of life without all that drama and stress… I don’t ever want to endure that sort of pain again. It was terrible – and while I know it was terrible because I was 17 and I didn’t know how much life was out there beyond my little situation – I do know that to have a friend I invest my time and care into and lose in that manner would be a heartbreak I don’t want.
So I keep coming back to these particular relationships: why me? Why now? What do you want and when you get it, will you bounce? I wish I could assuage my concerns by convincing myself that as adults, people don’t do this but I know that’s not true. If I really believed that, I wouldn't catch myself trying to form fit who I am into people's lives (those I want to be a part of) in a way that screams "you'll always need me..." It's a terrible thing to admit or realize or accept about myself because in the general way that I do things and believe things should be done, this is not in it.
I don’t want to be mismatched anymore or ever again. I know that I’m mismatched right now. But what I wonder is – can the mismatch change without the friendship ending?
My mom and I had a lot of undivided attention to give to each other this weekend since her power’s out thanks to the storms that occurred last week in the South (btw, I’m PISSED at how little national coverage it’s gotten. There was some serious devastation right outside of my home city (well in it, too) and in Tuscaloosa, AL where I also have family). On my last night here she and I ended up in her bed talking about a whole lot of stuff and we landed on friendships.
In high school, I had a friend who I’ve referred to here as “then-BFF.” I’ve wanted to tell the story of our friendship, but like my relationship with J (and most other things in my life that have had a substantial impact) it’s long, arduous and not fit for a single or couple of blog posts. In any case, the synopsis is she and I became friends our sophomore year in high school, she had some ulterior motives around our friendship, got what she wanted and then ended our friendship shortly after graduation. Vague enough?
My mom talked about how she tried to keep me away from her because she could tell that this girl wasn’t a true friend. She said, “it pissed me off that she was using you that way… I always knew she thought she was better than you,” and she added that she knew I couldn’t see it then.
In an attempt to hear more of her reasoning, I asked my mom to tell me what it was about this girl that led her to conclude that she wasn’t going to be a good friend. Truth is, I always thought something was amiss about our friendship so I wondered if my mom could name what it was. Moms told me, “she was too cutesy cutesy…” In other words, too focused on self, looks and appearance. She went on to explain how this girl and I were mismatched and how she could tell from jump that something just wasn’t right.
My mom has an amazing ability to read people and I like to think I get some of that ability from her. Even in high school when this girl and I became friends, I knew something was wrong. I could feel it – things just didn’t sit right. I asked myself, for the duration of our 3 year friendship: “why is she friends with me?” From the way our friendship started right on up until the last day she spoke to me, that question hung on like a groupie. I couldn't shake it, though I tried and it would always rear it's ugly head at the most inconvenient of times: like when she conveniently failed to call to tell me she was headed to a party/event she knew I'd wanted to attend or making it a point to let me know a couple of folks had told her they thought I was a "bitch..."
It definitely wasn’t that I didn’t think I deserved her friendship. It was that I couldn’t figure out what would make a girl like her think that she and I had something, anything in common. Truth was, we actually did have a few things in common and I think if she had been more concerned with herself as a person, we might still be friends now, but that’s neither here nor there. Just like my mom did, I saw the mismatch but I was also a teenager who had her own wishes for the types of friends she’d have and so I played along to get along – being that girl’s friend exposed me to a lot of things that I would’ve never been exposed to without her.
So back to those relationships that bother me the most in my present life: I feel mismatched. I find myself wondering why these individuals are friends with me and this is something I’ve expressed here before – but now I have a larger idea to go with it. I want to know why we’re friends because the last time I was friends with somebody who didn’t feel right for me, it ended terribly. Though it’s true that now I’m grateful for both the experience of having had the then-BFF as a friend and the experience of losing her AND the experience of life without all that drama and stress… I don’t ever want to endure that sort of pain again. It was terrible – and while I know it was terrible because I was 17 and I didn’t know how much life was out there beyond my little situation – I do know that to have a friend I invest my time and care into and lose in that manner would be a heartbreak I don’t want.
So I keep coming back to these particular relationships: why me? Why now? What do you want and when you get it, will you bounce? I wish I could assuage my concerns by convincing myself that as adults, people don’t do this but I know that’s not true. If I really believed that, I wouldn't catch myself trying to form fit who I am into people's lives (those I want to be a part of) in a way that screams "you'll always need me..." It's a terrible thing to admit or realize or accept about myself because in the general way that I do things and believe things should be done, this is not in it.
I don’t want to be mismatched anymore or ever again. I know that I’m mismatched right now. But what I wonder is – can the mismatch change without the friendship ending?
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