God...

I don't know what to say. I know that I need to say something. This past week I've been realizing that I am on the road to healing from my last overwhelming hurdle. As I realized this, I had to say goodbye to yet another friend today. I've noticed that there were a number of people coming to my site when I writing about happy things, or at least happier things. Now, I guess my depression has become fodder for a few. I realize that it takes an exceptionally strong person to be my friend, not because I am difficult to get along with or because I test the limits of my friendships, but something different entirely. The things that go on in my life are of some magnitude. it isn't simply someone chose not to talk to me or that I am hurting because my boyfriend called me fat. No, I carry the burden of a lot of really heavy shit. I'm not saying that my blues are better or worse than anyone else's. I'm saying that the shit I carry is big. And, unfortunately, some of the people that I chose to associate with cannot stand the weight of my problems.

At first, I thought that it was me. I thought that I deserved the shit that befell me--that I was the cause of my own macabre life. But, guess what folks, it ain't all me. I was hurting pretty badly for a while and there were people who helped me put the pieces back together, those that stood on the sidelines or in the wings waiting to help, and those who ran in circles wringing their hands. Quite frankly, I am glad to see which of the people in my life truly desire to be there, who see the me of me. Those who kick me in my ass when I need it in spite of me. I remember I called my sister-friend on the East coast crying ugly gut-wrenching sobs asking her why I was so fucked up. My life was in shambles. I was basically frozen out of my academic department, my sister had tried to commit suicide, my mother was dealing with her own stuff with my dad, and people were out to get me or simply pleased to see me fail. Her response,

"[Nonwhite&woman], now you're just being goddam ridiculous. What the fuck are you talking about? No, just no."

I love her for that response. But, you can imagine how many curses I had for her then. With that statement, I thought that she had turned against me too. But the miracle in all this is that with that statement, she stopped the ugly cry. I had to justify why I felt that way. And she gave as good as she got. She told me what she saw when she "looked" at me and forced me to see what I saw in me when I wasn't face down in life's muck. Being a friend is hard and it hurts.

I am glad that God has blessed me with people who really love me. Love isn't a feeling--you know the gratitude that accompanies how a particular person makes you feel or laugh. Love is an action. It can be one-sided. It, at times, can be hell. But, I can tell you this now, I have never turned my back on someone when they needed me. That's good karma. I'm proud of that. I may not know how to support my friends in the best way or any way at all, but I've never left one when the chips were down and I have no plans on doing so in the future. I would rather leave someone after she is securely on her feet. That way I know that I have been a friend. Love is sacrifice and it often means overlooking some sticky, mucky shit. But that's what it's about. It's about give and take and calling people on their shit, helping them in spite of themselves. It means telling them when they hurt you. And sometimes, you've got steam to blow off. They make you angry and you just need to get it out so that you can keep moving and keep loving. Love is not taking things personally and, when you do, getting over the hurt. Now, I'm not talking about the malicious sabotaging of a person's life. I mean the silly stuff. The stuff that doesn't matter. But, as the saying goes, some people are in your life for a reason and a season.

I am thankful and grateful that God chose to begin to weed out my garden so that my life can truly blossom.

I. Will. Not. Lose. Ever. Fucka.

I have learned something well worthwhile that victory could not bring;
To wipe the blood from my mouth and smile where none can see the sting,
I can walk head up while my heart is down.
From the beating that brought it's good.
And that means more than the champion's crown, who is taking an easier road.
I have learned something worth far more than victory brings to men;
Battered and beaten, bruised and sore, I can still come back again.
Crowded back in the hard tough race
I've found that I have the heart to look raw failure in the face;
and train for another start.

Winners who wear the victor's wreath, looking for softer ways,
Watch for my blade as it leaves the sheath sharpened on rougher days.
Trained upon pain and punishment I have groped my way through the night
But the flag still flies at my battle tent, I have only begun to fight!









I. Will. Not. Lose. Ever. Fucka.

The Challenge: Phoenix Rising

I am sick.

It's stress related, of course. My illness, that is. I've spent most of the day in bed, against my best intentions. Suffering a severe headache, extreme nausea, and vomiting, I confined myself to my bedroom and bathroom. Everything else hurt. I called my mother long distance to complain about how shitty I felt. I wanted her to do something about it like she did when I was under her care. Selfishly, I wanted her to share my pain. In her concern, she called my sister and told her to bring me water every hour and to rub my tummy. How comical is it to have a grown-ass woman rubbing another grown-ass woman's *tummy*? I still don't feel 100%. I've got so much on my plate and I don't know how I'm going to accomplish it all. I don't know if I can accomplish it all. This is the reason for my post.

I have the best family and friends that God can provide. They are unconditionally supportive and believe in me in ways that I have yet to believe in myself. It's rather strange. Sometimes, I believe that their support is unfounded and misplaced. But, they have the faith that I am seeming to lack at this point in my life. I know that my rock bottom may be head and shoulders over another's rock bottom. But, this is not about comparisons. This is my rock bottom. I cannot get any lower than this, nor do I wish to. However, here's my point, or, rather, my question. How could the people who love me most expect more of me than I am capable of? Don't they know me better than I know myself at times? Am I questioning their faith and support because I want out of that which I feel called to do?

I think that I have forgotten just how capable I am. If I don't remember, and soon, then I think I will be forever lost. I'm tired of being depressed and down. I am tired of letting people get the best of me--when they don't deserve it. I will survive. Not because other people expect or want me to, but simply because I have work to do. I do want this degree, more than I ever could imagine. I don't have to wait on my degree to do the things that I want to do. I live my life. I cannot begin to explain how empowering those words are. I don't have to put my life on hold and wait for other people to tell me what I am worth or how I haven't measured up. Honestly, neither of us fulfilled our end of the bargain--my professors or me. But, those who have less power always receive the short-end of the stick. That's one of the lessons I am supposed to walk away with, I believe.