Stuck in a Silent Whisper: VentSession

“I used to be stuck”

I’ve listened to this song many times since the release of this album (Jill Scott, WOMAN).  The beat is SICK so it was easy to take a liking to it. Today, in the silence of my mind as I drove westward on 86^th street, I started listening to the lyrics that until today, I had only allowed my mind to skim the surface of. I love that moment of impact when a song you’ve heard 1000 times hits you in a connecting place and shocks you into submission. I pulled into a parking space at Tuesday Morning with the intent on going in to browse randomly on my lunch break.

Instead, I sat in my truck listening to this on repeat. I turned the data back on for my phone because I couldn’t wait until I got back to work to see if I heard those lyrics correctly. I looked them up in the parking lot, started the song over and got lost somewhere between Jill’s voice and the strings of the electric guitar. I assume that’s an electric guitar I’m hearing.

The drum beats felt like my heartbeat charging at the thoughts being shared through my radio. Was she talking to me? Was this a private conversation with music in the background? Am I even in the truck? On my lunch break? Do I work? Live here? Is this my life? HTF is Jill Scott resonating this song with me like such right now??

I had a mind full of thoughts.

My whole lunch break was spent with me in silence besides Jill Scott. Everywhere I went, I felt like I didn’t belong there so I didn’t go in. I only went to Walmart and after browsing a three level bookcase that was on sale for $15, I decided against adding something to make my move harder and moved along to the plug-in section of the store.

“I used to be stuck”

The way she said it……like she really was at some point. Or like she was my mentor and then she asked me “how about you” ???

I subconsciouslessly nodded my head in agreeance. Yes Jill, I too have been stuck. In fact, I am stuck now.  

“Inviting new dumb shit

And more loss of peacefulness”

Yeah…..how is it you know me so well Jill? I literally JUST invited new dumb shit in my life and relinquished at least a small amount of my inner peace with that invitation.  To color myself ashamed of myself is a stretch…I’m not ashamed. I’m just disappointed….and I keep trying to act like I’m not disappointed but I am….why did I sleep with that dude? I.Dont.Even.Remember.It.

If that ain’t the universe speaking back in the highest VOLUME MAXIMUM allowed in the world, then what is?

I wonder, even with all these blogs full of answers and questions and clarity, how is it even possible to make the same mistake for life? It’s not twice; not even thrice (as Rose once said on Golden Girls). It’s life. It’s the same effin story of my life, different year…..sex literally messed up a good thing. It absolutely crushed a hopeful opportunity to continue to enjoy a connection……

Ahhhhh that word is so whored out in this blog.

I ain’t connected with none of these niggas. They connect with me. They have fed and eaten my energy and all that I exude and put out in effort for them to see what stands right before them….i have time and time again downplayed my role in life and who I am in effort for them to see what stands right before them. I have fucked when I didn’t want to and hoped that things wouldn’t change in effort for them to see what stands right in front of them. I have held back, shared fears and thoughts and hopes and wants with them, at their fucking request, in effort for them to see what stands right in front of them. …..and nothing happens every time.

“Say thank you”

I’m trying Jill. I have been taught so well. LIFE has literally taught me every thing I know.  Yet, for whatever reason, I tend to continue to believe that I have a better way at going about getting the best possible result and in the end, all I have to show for it is a mind that is trying to block out the latest casualty of war that I want to never remember. 

 I liked that dude. Lol.

If he was truly for me, then he’d still be around. And that’s cool. It’s not the fact that we weren’t a good fit for each other. It’s the fact that I went about things on my end wrong. It’s ok to wait. It’s ok to say not yet. And for whatever reason, as much as I feel and believe these things, I went backwards and said yes. I wanted to say yes tho, so understand I don’t mean this as a sticky situation. I just wish I hadn’t have done that. ….and the prime reason for this wish is because I’ve done it before and before and before again and that’s why I have a whole blog dedicated to my non-existant love life.

Today, I was scrolling through the mean streets of facebook and noticed #TheExample (Kevin Powell) had posted a picture of one of my favorite black female authors, Zora Neale Hurston. He labeled her one of his favorites and glorified her book “Their Eyes Were Watching God’’ as one of his favorite books ever.  WHOA.

Kevin Powell. ….don’t do this. That’s MY favorite writer too. That’s MY favorite book too. I just re-read it back in 2013. Why not you ?

I had to repost it and tagged it as ‘maybe next lifetime, I will be born his wife’.

#TheExample – He continues to prove to me that this dream guy in my head that I think would be the best possible fit for me actually does exist. He does run and train and is disciplined. He does listen to old records and have a huge collection of books, music and dreams. He works for and towards the betterment of his people. He reads. He reads fiction and non-fiction, women and men. He is well versed in life. ….he didn’t grow with a silver spoon as they say and he learned the hard way how to manage not just his money, but his life. That man DOES exist. Kevin shows me this every day that I log into facebook and see his posts. I find myself wondering aimlessly in my head, trying to figure out why I wasn’t created or born to be the perfect counterpart for this type of man (not specifically Kevin….but that too!!!!)? Why oh why am I the one that is #STUCK, as Jill says?

I don’t want to be.

I don’t want to be stuck. Anywhere…..in poor behavior, accepting bullshit, being over tolerant, in Indiana or “Listening to it happened to me again songs” (JS).

And I am.

And today, it was like  God said ‘this dummy will not listen….maybe if I make her more conscious of Jill, she will hear something” …….

“Everybody can use a little bit of help sometimes

Come on, you know things ain’t moving right

Ask for correction

Ask for direction

Ask for protection

Since you want to feel like you’re you, inside…

Say thank you”

I feel like two different people. One who knows better and one who acts like FTW I’ma get minez. O.o

I just want to be the better woman. The woman I am when I'm alone. I literally do not trust myself to date ANYONE else....PERIOD. I am FINE and CROWN when I'm single. When these cakies come around holding their balls and rubbing their foreheads, it's like I can't figure out who I am anymore.....i gotta backburner myself. Dumb myself down. Do ignorant shit in the name of GiveMeNothing in Return. o.O
I just want to relish in the woman I know I am. The woman who writes the poems and fights for women and believes in women. I want to be who I am when I'm not whoever I turn into .....I don’t even care about dating and fucking and men and niggas and nigga shit. Fuck em. I will never again in this life beg a nigga for respect or love. Yes, I have done it before. I have begged and cried for a no good nigga not to walk away from me. Looking back on it, it wasn’t about him leaving as much as it was him leaving ME. I wanted to beg them to pay attention to who I was. Not the poet, but the woman. I was begging niggas to "please please please don't leave: stay because here are 15 reasons why I"m a great woman. Grow with me!!! I'm really not like all the rest...i just need someone to take the chance to notice it"  << Words I never said that are the exact words I said. 

The things I feel about myself are wishy washy on any  given day. I never not feel royal or legendary. That’s my word!! But I think sometimes i have to make myself NOT fall into this mindset that if I were truly any of these things, then every man in my life wouldn’t have left me. The fact that they have ALL (related and nonrelated) seen something in me that makes them run the other way means something. ….in reality, I personally believe my Light is too bright…sort of like staring directly into the sun. But in theory, I have to keep myself from thinking there is something madly wrong with me and that this wrongful personality is what made my dad, brother, stepfather and the countless men I have liked, loved or lost run away from me or push me away. I’ve tried to force them to see the light in me. You know that much if you read the majority of this blog.

I’ve tried to buy them into me

Love them into me.

Hold them into me.

Support them into me.

Teach them into me. 

I have tried every avenue when the right person, or even the right  TYPE of person (i.e. Kevin Powell) would recognize it without me having to try. I can’t show my light if I continue to hold the darkness in my right hand like a baseball ready for pitch. I can’t act or even react in ways that cause a break in previous patterns. I can’t think that everyone is out to get me and hurt me and even fuck me, even though it does often seem like everyone wants to fuck me, without a condom. Like they seek to give me AIDS or get me pregnant …like there’s some type of secret illuminati-10pt coalition set up that meets in the basement of where I live and plots on how and who will get the chance to destroy me. It’s like damn ,why is your FIRST mind to NOT wear a condom? O.o  :/  

This isn’t blame.

We all I know I LET this shit happen either by allowing it or by giving actions that create this type of result.

But it does seem like dudes just really want to take me down and say ‘yeah, she’s no real Queen…she’ a fraud”.

It’s been this way since I moved to 39^th & Cornelius. It was like they sniffed out a young and dumb one. A chick with no direction where men are concerned. And no Kevin Powell for an example. When I used to watch him on the Real World, I was AMAZED by him….i remember reading the Autobiography of Malcolm X and had a bedroom of Malcolm X posters up in my room. I loooooved MX. I loved him. But neither of these men gave me that ‘example’ feeling until it was too late. I was too young to know I needed an example.

I’m deep in my 30s. I’m not ashamed but perhaps a bit embarrassed to look in the mirror without tear stains…..shitty that I let myself put on fools gold hard hat when I wasn’t even in the mining cave. I was somewhere else. And now I’m back to square one. Back to feeling like I'm forgetful. I've mentioned being forgotten in this blog before. It's a fear that has kept me overstaying a welcome or 3. ...the thought that I am not memorable seems to pull up some type of repressed childhood memory of being forgotten...perhaps by my brother. I think having no relationship with my brother did more damage to me than not having one with TWO fathers (real dad & stepfather).  What's the line from John Mayer's song ?? 
"there I just said it, 
I'm scared you'll forget about me" (Edge of Desire...one of my favorite JM songs ever). 

I read a lot of stuff. I see a lot of posts. Ppl talk about folks like me all the time and I read them and smile. I am who I am and people will think whatever they want. I'm trying. Idk if I'm even doing my best...until #TheGuy, I actually thought I was. I just got caught up in excitement perhaps. I really wanted the whole package and thought I found a good friend. A friend who, just like the rest before him, thought me to be forgettable. I am a woman who has exhausted her heart to a point of armor so thick that if Kevin Powell asked me out on a date, I’d have to politely decline because I wouldn’t want him to see a side of me that I wish didn’t exist. Idk how to even explain that side. I wouldn't want TheExample to see ME. Once upon a time, I wanted all their ugly and wanted to give them mine in return. I wanted to show them how we could fucking change the spin of the world together....the only thing that changes is the way I twirl and release black girl glitter.... I don't want this anymore. Not their ugly and definitely won't be sharing mine. 

“Ask for correction

Ask for direction

Ask for protection”

There is a part of me that knows that as long as I live in Indianapolis, IN, I will be the same. It’s not because of Indianapolis. It’s not because I’m weak. It’s because it’s my truth. As long as I am here, surrounded by the ghosts of my failures, contacted on social media by old pasts that seek to have some type of string tied to me so they can keep tabs on their dirty work and stuck in the spin cycle of my personal AMuseMENt Park, I will retort by nature to the old me. I just have to accept that. I can keep trying to work on it, I can keep repositioning my crown but I have exhausted Indianapolis where my healthy side is concerned. I feel like I run monument circles around these ghosts.

The broken heart that started spilling on Cornelius in 92 when I met the two best friends #MuseSlevin and his partner in crime, and has leaked and left trails from Indy to Cincinnati and back is killing me internally. I try to present this strong woman. I am a strong woman. Probably stronger than I will ever fully give myself credit for….idk. Most times, even when people tell me they understand or have experienced similar, I know that I am the only person experiencing these things this way. I am the only me. From the way I think to the way I hurt and the decisions I make and how I make them -  
- ...no one else feels this to the exact. It's always just similar. It's my age. Being this old presents a harder time moving on from doing DUMB SHIT.  Shit. It's like damn Ken, will you set yourself back ten years every 16 months ? Or nah? 

There are days, like today, when I hear a certain song….

And see a certain type of post….

And think extra hard about moving ……

And it all hits me like a semi on a midnight highway turnpike……

The loneliness…..<<<the thing no woman is supposed to admit to. She’s not supposed to talk about being lonely because that means she’s not happy with herself or doesn’t love her own company.

Lol.

Luckily I’m not that woman. I DO get lonely. And guess what: I DO LOVE MYSELF. Actually, I enjoy TF out of myself. I spend a lot of time treating myself well and having a good time doing it. I LOVE eating out alone and i love going to concerts alone. It's one of my favorite past times. I am not afraid of my own company. I just get tired of entertaining myself and more than that, I just miss the energy trade. How many times have I said that in this blog?? Lolol.... 

Not all the time, but sometimes, I do get a little lonely...i mean is that really abnormal? And then I start overthinking….and then I see an example of the type of man that I desire to be connected at the IV Drip to….and I look at myself and say ‘love, you weren’t made for that…it's easier to get a plane ticket’. 

Or, it's easy to get one of these flagrant ass easy niggas. They throwing dick around like it's Woodstock 1972. But few are throwing more than that. And the ones that are, I push them off the Edge of My Cliff. 

Today is one of those days.

Probably because I’m not going to NYC and I’m pretty bummed TF out about it.

I’m tired of feeling stuck.
I’m ready to move.

I’m ready to fly.

And I’m ready to no longer be stuck……………………………….

"Done saying I'm done playing" 
~drake