Memoirs of a 28 year old

I looked into my grandma's eyes and she said to me "I need you to hit the lotto, because I'm tired. I can't work anymore" she said it with a smile and as a joke.... But that killed me inside. This is the woman who made sure I went to etiquette class so no one would prejudge me. Who, when my absent minded mother was off in lala land, made sure I was still set in life. When I thought I wasn't going to be able to finish college cause I had too many loans, she paid cash so I could get that degree.

I'm 28. Actually this is my last day as 28. A few hours from 29. My last year of my 20’s and I look at the life I'm living and it's not at ALL like the life I thought I'd have. I thought I'd be married with a kid(s), living in an apartment in Westchester about to buy a home, working as a Marketing manager by now. Instead, I'm single, living with a roommate, and doing event planning. Granted, I'm blessed. But when you look at the day to day, and you see those Sallie Mae bills that make you contemplate the different ways you can chef up Ramen Noodles (I like adobo and Siracha), you think everyone living better than you and you just wonder where you went wrong.

You didn't. Everyone is trying to grind out, everyone is trying to be better. Some people were blessed with talents, or recognition of their passion at early ages. I don't think anyone except for Oprah or Beyonce is where they want to be in life and even those heffas still pushing.  

We look at age and we expect more. We give each ourselves these false timelines based off of where others are (who are honestly aren’t just as good as them seem) and we depress ourselves. We discourage ourselves. We go from being our own biggest fan, to our worst critic. Our mindset  becomes our biggest obstacle. 

I cried that night grandma said that to me. I cried rewriting these words. But, I didn’t let it hinder me. I use it as a positive driving force daily. When I wonder why I wake up and do what I do, I remember her face. Im not a creative, i don’t have a talent thats my “passion”. My passion is the people I love. Making them proud, and being there for them in any way possible. So if thats working my ass of at a 9-5 thats really a 9-9 so my grandma doesn’t have to worry about buying a dress for a church dance… ill do that with a smile. 

You are exactly where you are supposed to be on your journey. Dont let others show you how to live your life.  

Blurred Lines

I knew I fucked up when I watched him sleep and I smiled he was at peace next to me.

I knew I fucked up when in the middle of the night he put his arm around me, and I didn’t shy away. I actually nuzzled closer. I don’t cuddle. I hate it. I knew I fucked up.

But, to see the words, “I don’t want to lead you on” and feel my chest tighten, thats when I was SURE I fucked up.

"I don’t want to blurred lines”… I actually chuckled through tears at my text at the Robin Thicke reference. Wait…. tears. Why the fuck was I crying?

Not only was I crying, I was sobbing. In my grandmas bathroom. My waterproof eyeliner was no match for the stream of heavy tears mixed with salt and sadness. I looked in the mirror confused. I didn’t understand my own emotions. I didn’t understand why I was so hurt. I moved back and forth between rooms so my family wouldn’t get suspicious. I couldn’t fake like I saw something sad on TV. I was sobbing like there was a death. Shit, I felt like there was one.

I knew I fucked up.

I realized I loved this man one day randomly AFTER we stopped talking/dating/canoodling/whateva you young kids call it now. He was coming to brunch with me and some friends and he made me get out the car to hug him. When I got in his arms, it felt right. It felt like I was supposed to be there. It felt like love. Not the explosive Chris Brown/Rihanna love. I wasn’t IN love. It felt like the love that starts at your soul. The love that is the hardest to get rid of because it doest shock you. Its creeps up on you. Its builds within you slowly until its overcome you and you are just confused. 

I was confused. 

But here we were again, years later. A random rekindle went from a night, to a weekend, to days, to weeks, to months. Im buying groceries he likes cause I know he’ll be there within the next seven days. Im thinking about him in my decisions for the future because he’s been around on and off for 3 years, so I see no reason why he wouldn’t be there. No, he’s not my man, but I was cool with that.

“I was cool with no commitment. Wait, No, let me take that back. It was you, so I was with it”- Destiny Child ‘Is She The Reason’

We established what we were from jump. I understood and accepted that. All I ever wanted was him around consistently. So I figured this was cool. Im an adult. I can handle it. 

I lied to myself.

I realized that sometimes, we settle for half of someone because its better than none. He did nothing wrong. I did nothing wrong. My feelings sucker punched me like Sharkeisha. I don’t hate him. My friends do, but I don’t. He cares but he didn’t lie. He didn’t disrespect me. I disrespected myself. I was cool giving my all to someone who was giving me his minimum. I was happy to just have him close. I convinced myself were were on the same page. But we weren’t. The lines were blurred more than my vision behind the tears of utter pain. Or maybe it was blurred because I had been drinking for days. 

But what do you do when no one is wrong, only the situation is? What do you do when love isn't enough, but is damn sure is a lot? What do you do when your heart and your brain are fighting to the death and it shows in your face? You become selfish. You realize you deserve more. You don't want to be alone, but honestly, are you not alone? You're prolonging the inevitable. You have to realize you are worth more than scraps and find someone who can see that. It can be him, but thats going to take work. Hard work. You also have to realize its not your fault. Dont make anyone think you are a weak bitch. You had the capacity to love a human being despite not being in fairy tale conditions. You tried to be there for someone you thought deserved your love. I tried to love me enough for the both of us. Things is, that only sounds good on a Drake song. Jhene forgot how hard it is to love yourself just for you at times. Catchy ass lyric, unrealistic ass logic.

I was not insecure, but he gave me no security. For this I had to make the conscious effort to leave. Not because he was a horrible person, but because he was an amazing person. He was amazing, but he wasn’t ready. I wasn’t ready either, but I was willing.

A man who isn’t ready to love, is a challenge. But a man who isn’t willing to love is suicide mission.

ThrowBack

I promise ill be better tomorrow. But tonight...

Hi, I'm Misery. Welcome....

“You just a nigga with good lipstick and laid hair”

That’s a direct quote from all of my homeboys. Still not sure if it’s a compliment or not. But now… I’ve accepted it. Like I said I am emo… but for the good. The stuff that impacts me negatively, I don’t say often. Why burden people? That’s what this blog is here for.

But do things get overwhelming like this for men too? I can’t imagine they cry at the thought that the person they love won’t ever play in their hair anymore.

That to sleep, they need Xanax in the medicine cabinet to replace their love that’s no longer in their bed.

That people literally say they can see the weight of the world on their shoulders when all I want is his weight on me. Period.

That they feel delusional calling what we do making love cause their not sure if the love is mutual.

They don’t wake up to tear soaked body pillows.

They don’t miss train stops trying to hold back tears because “our” song came on but they couldn’t bring themselves to go to the next song.

That Jack Daniels is their permanent rebound love.

They never dreamed of someone’s touch and woke up to a pain in their heart so deep it felt like a heart attack.

The energy it takes to put on a convincing fake smile feels like it could power an apartment. The time spent hitting “load more message” and re-reading old conversations because new ones aren’t happening, probably could rebuild the Great Wall of China. Men don’t seem like they deal with that…

But then again… Look at Drake.

Note - Sorry if this post put you in your feelings. Misery loves company. 

Don't call it a Comeback... Though it kind of is....

When I started Random Epiphanys in 2010, it was my escape. It was a way to get my feelings out. It then turned solely about relationships and when I was sad and needed to vent. I felt like a pussy. I realized earlier this year I didn’t want to do that. I was in such a good space and I wanted to share that with everyone. That’s when I also realized I had nothing to write.

Not that all my life is a Drake album, its just that I spoke about the good things. I’m not a quiet person. This blog isn’t what I hide behind to be my true self. I’m vocal and outspoken.

About the good.

About the positive.

I’m emotional, but good emotions. The bad ones… not so much. The thing I loved about my blog was it was my homegirl when my real life homegirls were busy. Or when I needed to makes sense of my own feelings and I could see it face to face.

So now I find myself upset…. And I find myself here. And I realize I ran back here like this was an old familiar joint.

Yea, this was random. Call it an epiphany.

Jades Are A Girl's Best Friend

I hate the word bitter. It’s what I never wanted to be. I still have hope for love and relationships, just not for my own. I think it’s me. The sex is always good, but the emotions.... not so much. 

I treat love like colds. When I feel it coming on, I do anything to prevent it.  Maybe I push men away, but sometimes I think I never let them get close enough in the first place. I don’t have the “one that got away” because they never really was here. I still don’t know whose fault is that. But I’m starting to think its mine. I don’t think I'm bitter though. 

Bitter is defined as characterized by intense antagonism or hostility. I been using the word jaded. It sounds prettier. Jaded is defined as dulled or satiated by overindulgence… or my favorite one “worn out wearied out, as by over work or overuse”. I think my love has been wearied. It needs a rest. 8 years of loving so hard you got so tired just kissing the person it felt like you had ran a marathon. Then putting fear aside to care about another who let the same fears you overcame, overcome your relationship… what else can you be but weary?

I stay up some nights thinking about the feeling of love, how I miss it. I wonder if what I miss was even a real reference since I never knew the person I loved. I could be clueless on all matters of the heart. Maybe that’s why it’s heavy now. It has so much in it that I refuse to let out. I may not be able to stop the outpour. Scared to see what’s been locked up in those 4 chambers for the past two and a half years. Every time I start to open the doors a bit, someone does something that slams it closed… and the pain feel like my finger was in the frame. Every time I start to let someone in, I want to tell them please don’t leave, but I’ve seen from other people, that’s what usually makes them go the quickest. I hate when #he  looks at me and I feel he can see my soul, not because I’m afraid of what he'll see… mainly because I don’t know myself and I want to know what’s in there. But then, maybe he sees nothing, just two big brown empty circles. 

Maybe that’s what scares me the most.

Pour it Up...

When you've been off and on with someone for years, and then you blink your eyes, and they are giving all of what you fought for to someone who hasn't struggled for it... theres a deeper level of hurt there. Its not that you cheated, or we didn't work.. “Its why wasn't I good enough?” You doubt your every move. 

“Was I not pretty enough, smart enough?”

“Did I not cook well enough?”

“Was my sex not pleasing enough?”

“Why when she walks in the room, you look at her like how I look at you?”

“Why was I good enough for your dick but she was worthy of your heart?”

This isn't bitter, but how can you be happy for someone when they didn't even consider your feelings? Inadequacy takes up too much room for joy to fit in. 

So now, you're in your room drinking honey jack, watching love jones, hoping for a miracle. Hoping he texts so you can go off. Every buzz you just know its him and you have the whole conversation planned out. You got points in your notes app and its. about. to. go. down.

But it isn't him. He isn't texting. Because he's happy. Home living his life, while your just reliving yours. Reliving the moments you WERE happy. Reliving the happy times because the bad ones aren't important now that you're alone. 

Im petty. Ill never deny it. I want to be happy for him but how can I when he made promise to me that he kept for her? He’s posting lines to songs under their pics on social media that he used to hum in my ear while we were in bed. Im supposed to forget that cause he did? My feelings supposed to change cause his facebook relationship status did?

Now you and your homegirls are saying things like “ I heard the ones with the best sex never get wifed..” and you reply “Makes sense why Im single” and share a good laugh, but each giggle aches at your heart... because your still searching for answers you'll never get. You can try. You can corner him and demand answers. You'll probably end up more hurt than before the conversation or naked. He’ll probably say something that makes you think he really cares about you and theres hope for y'all yet. Then he post an IG pic up and your back to square one.

Sounds familiar? Cause thats the story every time in some variation.

Theres no answer here. No epiphany. Sorry. I just turn up the TV, turn off the phone, and refill my drink.

Cheers.