Death to Love

Today I wrote the final line in my obituary. I wrote with such force and finality that it scared me. My pen flourished on the paper as I wrote that I need time and space. Time and space to just figure this thing out. To get my head back on straight. To adjust to my new reality.

So many excuses for why things can’t be, but the truth is simply that I love someone who doesn’t and won’t love me. I sift through my emotions and watch my tears drip on the paper as I journal the pain. I know that it is my own issue. I don’t know how to separate fantasy from reality. The reality that love don’t live here. It never has. But, I wanted to make believe that you and me could be a we. Why?

Because it was wonderful in my fantasy. It was safe. It was nourishing and warm. It strengthened me in ways that I didn’t imagine. This fantasy allowed me to laugh at the silly things, feel safe in your arms and strong in your encouragement. We existed in this fantasy. Our hearts beating in synchronized and harmonized rhythm until…

I realized that my heart beat was the only one that could be heard. I was imagining the strong and steady beat of my soul mate. It was comforting until I wrote that damn obituary and realized that the only thing I heard was silence.

I just stood there crying because heartbreak was nothing new to me. Pain was a constant in my life. Hell I survived childhood and motherhood. Grief was something I had experienced before, but this pain was new to me. It was a cross between an ax chopping my heart in two and someone pouring battery acid on the still beating half. You get it right? It was…

Destructive. I watched the destruction of a dream. I loved and lost within a span of months. The dream to experience love in the purest and sexiest form as an adult. But, that dream was dead before I even closed my eyes. So, I wrote out my obituary and entitled it “Death to Love”.

It said:

Suddenly on February 20, 2015, I departed this earth. I died. Not in the physical sense, but in the emotional sense. I stopped believing in love after confessing my feelings to the man I had dated for almost a year. I opened up my soul and poured out my heart and he just sat there. No words. No emotions. Just silence. After shouting out that I fearlessly and uncontrollably loved this man and needed him to be patient with me and love me beyond measure, I realized that I was alone. Alone in this boat that he told me to ride with him and just go with the damn flow. As I poured out my heart and told him that love was foreign to me and not something I share freely with men. I listened for confirmation or affirmation that it was mutual. But there was none. Only silence. No words. So, I laughed and let him go and went home and drank a glass of wine so big that Olivia Pope would have been envious. I wrote this obituary before turning into bed and realizing that sleep would be futile. That rest would not come. My heart ached something awful and I died.

Later as I lay on the cold table in the morgue and reflected on the quietness of my mind I heard the radio playing. Someone had turned on Pandora. I heard “Step Aside” by Yolanda Adams. I heard her sing, “You have to let go and let God be God”. I gasped in air as though I had never breathed before. The pain was insurmountable but a peace was settling in my spirit.

I got up off the cold table and wrapped my body in a blanket and showered. I took the hottest shower and soaped up and washed off all the troubles of this world because I knew that I would survive. Because on that love river that I traveled God had given me a life vest and my momma had taught me how to swim.

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It’s Not Funny

As I sat there watching the “Love & Hip Hop Atlanta” reunion show (part 2), I was mortified at the scene that was taking place. Joseline Hernandez, one of the main characters and her “husband” Stevie J were fighting. It started with them fighting Benzino and Althea and then transpired into Joseline fighting everyone. What things stood out to me:

Fame is a powerful drug

Apparently, some don’t know. Fame is addictive. You get a whiff and you can’t stop. You want to drink it, inhale it, eat it and breathe it because you can’t imagine going back to a perfectly normal life. Think about the reality stars who have made it big and the things that they’ve been accused of doing. From criminal activities, to violence to drug abuse and jail time, these people can’t let go of fame. How awesome is it to wake up and realize that you have become famous for just being you? Being recognized everywhere you go. Having TMZ and Us Magazine cover your latest antics seems normal after a while. You like the recognition. You crave the spotlight and you love having an entourage. It’s just like Rod Stewart said…

“There is this power that comes with being famous.”

Drugs are bad

I have never taken drugs, but I know what an addiction can do to people. My father was is an alcoholic. His addiction had him doing things that “normal” people shouldn’t do. Drugs numb a pain that you’re feeling and it’s only temporary. Deal with the issue. Address your brokenness and know that God heals all. You have to get help for your addiction. Drugabuse.gov indicates that the cost of substance abuse is in the billions. See the chart:

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We have to stop putting a band-aid on our problems and seek professional help to heal. Many do, but a lot don’t. Some people don’t see it as a problem. They don’t recognize the problem or how it’s hurting us as a society. We have to support mental health. Dang, don’t you get tired of pretending like everything is okay and you’re dying on the inside? Drugs are not the answer to your pain. It’s okay to hurt it’s also okay to…

Just Say No

People medicate to heal

Fact: Burying your pain and then self-medicating to get through the day is not healthy. I know people medicate to heal the pain, but it’s not working. Depression is real and we shouldn’t make the problems worse by turning to drugs. You don’t have to be superman or superwoman. We can’t keep it together all the time and sometimes life gets chaotic that you need to seek professional help. No judgement. Just truth. You can’t fix a dam with duct tape. It won’t work. Fix you. You are the most important person and you can’t heal while medicating and burying your real issues. I know there is a stigma in the black community for seeking help, but trust me…the worse thing you can do is avoid the issue and abuse your body to make the pain go away. Yes, you may cry. Yes, you may scream, but I promise you…this too shall pass.

When keeping it real goes wrong

I don’t think anyone was prepared to see the ratchedness that transpired on Monday night, but I hurt for Joseline and Stevie. I hurt because both of them are damaged. Instead of laughing at their antics, creating memes and diagnosing them (FYI – Joseline admitted to smoking blunts and Stevie J tested positive to cocaine in June) we have to create a campaign that bullying, drug use and ratchedness are not acceptable programming. The fact that it took more than two dozen security members to try and keep chaos from affecting the audience is proof enough that reality TV is truly at the end of days. Let’s demand quality programming because I can sense the lawsuits that are going to come forth.

Vacation Chronicles: Tampa

I returned from a great weekend in Tampa bonding with my best friend yesterday and I wanted to share some things that I’ve learned about me on this mini-vacation of self-reflection. As many of you know, I’m doing a lot of soul searching during this time to try and find out what my needs are and what my wants are. Apparently, they’re not the same. LOL. So, I started from the minute I got to the airport and decided to jot down a few things that I learned or rediscovered about myself.

▪ I like flying. It’s only when I am taking off and my stomach does that flip and I think “Oh God, please don’t let us crash” that I truly realize what a blessing it is to be able to fly in an airplane. The best part about flying? When your airfare cost $2.10.
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▪ I can travel with one carry-on and not the whole world. I’m trying to downsize my wardrobe when traveling and only packing the essentials. This Tampa trip allowed me the opportunity to see if I could do it. You know what? I could and I did.
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▪ I like hotel living. Even after living in a hotel earlier this year for 4 1/2 weeks, there is something sweet about not having to make my bed or pick up my towels, wash clothes, cook or clean. Yep, I’m spoiled.

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▪ I can relax. I can actually sit back, relax and have a vacation without planning out every single aspect of the trip. I am letting go of my controlling tendencies and just going with the flow. Taking the road I think I should travel. No matter the length, I’m enjoying the ride.
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▪ I love sisterhood. My best friend and I have known each other since we were 13. This was the second time that we have traveled together and the first time for us traveling by ourselves. (not counting when she visited me almost every weekend when I lived in NYC) to sort of commemorate and renew our friendship. We had a very relaxing time.
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▪ I love the beach. I love water and I love sand. I love the feel of the sun kissing my skin so gently that my skin color turns a golden brown or as my friend described “a pretty orange color”.
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▪ I love trying new drinks that I’ve never tried. Especially when they’re cheap. I am a nerd with cool tendencies and I love it. Check out this cool drink I had called the purple nerd.
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▪ I’m simple. I like good food, family and friends. I also love a good book. Finished reading the entire Divergent Series. On to the next one. I think I’m going to read Black Women in White America by Gerda Lerner next.
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▪ I’m sharing. I’ve always been very private in my writing and sharing of information about myself, ideas and family and through encouragement from my bestie, I’ve learned to open up and let people in. This blogging and writing has become real and I love when people say that they can relate. It means you get me.

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This year has been one for the books. But, my faith has been strengthened and I am taking charge of my own destiny. I am looking into my future with courage instead of despair and believing, no knowing that I will be fine.

Mom’s and their Psychosis

My mom and I were discussing the Shaquan Duley tragedy last week. We had two different views on whether or not she had suffered a psychotic break. If you don’t know what happened, here’s a brief recap of the situation. Shaquan Duley is a 29 year old single black mother from South Carolina. On August 16, 2010, she rented a hotel room and suffocated her two young sons by covering their mouths with her hands. They were ages 2 and 1. She then buckled them into their car seats and drove her car into a lake. They were dead before they hit the water. The police pulled her car out of the lake and the boys bodies out of their car seats. The story being circulated in the media is that she has confessed to murdering her two sons due to pressures from her mother on her ability to not care for her children. She is facing two counts of murder.


As a mother of one, I can’t imagine the pain that this family must be going through. I’ve never been to a child’s funeral, and I hope I will never have to go to one. My son is 2 years old and I can’t imagine there being any reason that I could ever take his life. However, I don’t and can’t begin to pass judgement on this woman and her family. I don’t know what pushed Shaquan to the edge where she saw no way out of her situation, but to take her children’s lives. I just believe that she had a psychotic break. The medical dictionary (www.medical-dictionary.thefreedictionary.com) describes psychotic break as:

Psychosis is a symptom or feature of mental illness typically characterized by radical changes in personality, impaired functioning, and a distorted or nonexistent sense of objective reality. Based on this definition, I would tend to believe that Shaquan is suffering from psychosis. Maybe she suffered from Post Postpartum Depression (PPD). I believe that if PPD is left untreated, it can last a lifetime. I am not saying she is not guilty of her crime, but if we look at the number of women who seem to loose their sense of reality and commit the most horrendous crimes, then we realize that she is one of many. Look at Andrea Yates, Susan Smith, Kenesia Berry, etc. There are many stories of women who kill their children. Many of these stories don’t make the national headlines, but they exist and we shouldn’t forget their fallen angels. Let’s not rush to pass judgement on this case or the next because as her lawyer, Carl B. Grant said: “I have often said in cases like this, where the emotions of the masses have been aroused so high, there is a thin line, truly, between lynching and a trial.

To read the article, double click on the below link: http://www.cnn.com/2010/CRIME/08/23/south.carolina.murders/index.html?hpt=C1