BREak UpS ARent Only ROMAntic

bREak up’S aRen’t only ROMAntic

Today.... I stopped thinking as an individual. I selflessly put my needs to the side and I thought of another. My sister. Now! before you start to think that how Could I categorize that as selfless, it’s normal to do that!. Please keep in mind that not all people! not all... Organic family structures are the same. My sister and I are recently getting a long.

And I have to say that in a very loose. Like stretched out taffy loose way. Because I still don't think that we get a long very well. But! there's a mutual respect among us. Our relationship has been strained due to how we were raised.

 I recently went though a break up. I broke up with my mother. You see. She, herself, is one of the many people who have been effected by the life of Black Harlem. In the era of the 70′s and early 80′s. Raised by a broken mother as well. A mother who never received help, Mentally,emotionally and in my personal opinion spiritually too. With this information. I just went over three generations. Myself. my mother and my mothers mother (aka) grandmother. All three people, including myself are people who in many way are emotionally voided, depleted. And in great need of great affection, validation and attention from our nuclear family units.

My grandmother is a very strong woman. (Lets call her Elsie) And! it’s not because she wants to be. My great Grandmother (Lets call her Barbra ) was not a very strong woman. She was a woman succumbed by her circumstance. To me that’s all fine and dandy.,,,, Why?,,,, you say?... Well..... Giving that (Barbra) was born and raised in North Carolina in the 1930‘s I have to say. She’d been though enough.

The way that I was able to get a good idea of what life was like back then (Elsie) are through movies. Such as ”What’s love got to do with it. “ Starring (Angela Bassett) or “The Help.” Staring (Viola Davis & Emma stone) and these movies takes place in the 60′s and 70′s. Now! For my great GRANDMOTHER! (Barbra) I believe She did the best that she could with what she knew how. She was not a scholar or a highly educated woman. But! she was loving, tolerant & mildly strong. But! that’s always been the case when it comes to women of color. They’re strong!

In these long drawn out rants I’m trying to paint you some details on how I have become the way that I have. By giving you the (reader) a clear understanding of my family history, I can avoid you guys thinking I’m a complete asshole. I swear, I’m just half of one! My great grandmother, as far as I know was a maid. and she’d done that for some time. Now! the kicker here is that I’m getting all of this second hand. Not from the horses mouth herself. When I was young. like say..... 10 or even 11 she must have been in her mid 50′s. I knew not what to ask. I also was not it he mindset like I m now to ask her.

When I became much older and more inquisitive about why people were behaving the way that they were in my family. Secrets begun to spill! ...Ahhh that's a lie, more like sprinkle! Yes Sprinkle!!! Over the years I would get little pieces here and there that would not add up until I had done my own psychology study. Started to plug two and two together to make 22!!!!  My grand mother married or at least had relations with a man who was very wealthy. As far as I know. They birth one child together. My grandmother (Elsie) And choose to not stay around for too long.

Here’s where the discord, resentment and self loathing comes into  the family tree. My supposed great grandfather had ambition that out weighed what my great grandmother could even fathom. He asked her what her goals were. What she wanted in life. He asked her if she wanted to have the full American dream. A house and home full of children. As I try my best to understand. Where she’s from. Where her people before her may have come from. Ultra humble beginnings. Her understanding of life. to see why she had mad the choice she had! The twist to this is that My supposed great grandfather was rich.And an Indigenous man. And my grandmother is half African American and half indigenous as well. Two cultures. two huge differences.

From what I understand is that Native American or Indigenous people like to stick with there own. And so does Black women today too. .. Supposedly.. This was a time where people (from my understanding) were not about Racially or ethnically mixing. Despite the fact Barbra is mixed herself. With these pivotal details. He left my grandmother because He felt she was okay with a plate of food and watching TV. I know there has to be more to her story. I wish I had found out sooner. Now! I may have to call her spirit to find out more. And interpretation can get a little messy. 

With all of these colors that painting this family portrait. Barbra had moved on in her life and actually married another man (I can confirms this.) A man who added to the brew of sorrow. I wont give you his last name. But his first name was James. And boy he was a sorry mother fucker. He was an abusive husband and a rapist. As well as a child predator. He would beat on Barbra and rape Elsie, until she had enough and fought back. I also know for a fact that he raped my great uncles and aunts too. All the women in the ranks of great aunts. Don’t allow men to do certain things, even jokingly. They were very, very, over protective of us the children. Even from the males in our family.

From the trauma my grand received from 13 and up. She had become a cold woman. At least to me, this is what I saw.  As a child I was nervous to be around her. Her face, although it showed emotion. It never seemed to shine with light. The blank looks in her eyes. And female baritones of her voice. If you need a sad but accurate portrait of how she looks and an even better on in how she behaves. Just watch the actress “Monique“ in the movie (Precious.) I don't like to bad mouth anyone (who’s family) or make myself seem like “Oh! poor me! But these are just the facts of my life. When I watched the movie “Precious” I could not think of anyone else.

Yes, the movie does feel like how my mother had been raised.My grand had five children all together. And my mother is the eldest. A torch I bare myself. now! As far as the horses mouth! I fed this one myself. I had been cornered by Elsie one day at one of my baby cousins birthday party's. I guess the guilt was ridding her. It was very unexpected. However.... I do have to say, I did pray to “Ochun“ that week. I forgot what for! But! I will give where credit is due. Ochun had given me the clarity I needed to heal from this generational curse.

My grand had come over and literally corned me. She pulls me to the side and begins to sorrow vomit all over me. I was so confused and then I begun to be very sad. You see. I have always heard stories of how my grandmother would beat the kids and how she was extra as fuck. But! when your a teenager and you haven't been through stuff like. What they’re describing. You can only start to think that these are some hate’n ass bitches. Until you hear it straight from the source herself. She proceeds to tell me how. She ain’t shit, wasn't shit and how she don't wanna be a piece of shit anymore!

Standing there, hearing all of those shitty things she had done to my mother and her siblings made me really fucking down. At the moment I was like why the fuck is she telling me all of this. That moment I take it in strides of what that could have meant. Or what it is. depending on my mood and what I’m feeling the meaning changes. I think, at times I was a proxy for her. Since her and my own mother do not speak at all. Other times I look at it as the family history I need to know. In order to know whats happening for the future. The details are how we are. How we have gotten to this place in our family. It’s terrible that the details are sucky. But they’re important.

My mother! Man this woman is a vault of locked secrets. Unfortunately I cant say that about her legs. Any time my mother gets around her type of man. I can mentally see her oozing honey from her Venus fly trap. Legs, springing wide open. Eyes hypnotizing her unknowing victim. (lol) As vivid as that sounds my moms not a slut! I swear!. My mother is an educated woman. A woman who is about her house and home and herself. and always herself. And herself and herself.

Despite being raised by a trauma ridden mother. My mother to me was always dramatic. And has always responded to me as If I was the one who caused her situation to be worse than, what SHE mad it out to be. I should stop writing her as my mother and write her as egg downer. I’m in my feelings.

It’s abundantly clear to me that she never wanted children. Her actions speak louder than her words. However when you tell a narcissist that you would do something for them that's not about them. They tend to make it more about them, When it actually isn't. And get mad about it! (for better context) My mother hid me from my father until I was five years old. That is until the whistle blower. Barbra, spilled the beans to my fathers side of the family. And told them that there’s a new baby in our family and I believe that he is yours too. I tried asking these questions and I get the same reply all the time. It was a challenging time for me. (But! I have questions I have the right to be answered.)

My aunt on my fathers side, told me that she had offered to adopt me if my mother wanted to continue to live her life. I don’t think that the offer was out of spite or malice. I do believe that she had and still has all of the best intentions for me then and even now. Albeit, that’s how the cookie crumbled

 I know She has a lot of trauma. I know she needs psychological help . Or accept it and then whoosah that out!  But! that’s something I cant help her with. Therapy is only for those who seek help. Who actually want it. For most of my child hood I felt Like I was an adult. Always carefully making decisions. Doing stuff  that would give me anxiety. Or having very adult conversations about shit I should not be in. Over all I’m an adult now. With a little bit more sound mind. I’m no longer a child and burdened with the thoughts of how can I deal with this now.

She abandoned me when I was 16. Barley even spoke to me in my 20′s and now in my 30′s. Fully stable and having an amazing career. you wanna start talking to me. You wanna be more active in my life. Be the more motherly. Gurl... bye!!!! I feel the relationship between us is too strained.

For the  sake of honestly and for the sake of me telling you all about my family and its truth. I have tried with her. I allowed her to be in my life. and without skipping a beat she acts as if nothing between us has never occurred. For some people that's cool and okay. For me, I just put up Berlin Walls and barbwire for boundaries. because actions are habitual. At first people try. They may even change. But! When complacency hits! They go back into the same habits. I say this Because that Is what happened. She wanted me to do more for her than she she was willing to do for me. She continuously invalidate what I want. My beliefs and my actions. So, I told her that I can not continue having her in my life. She does not see where she has gone wrong but that is a decision she has made. She’s selfish!

In her selfishness. we had to learn how to deal with her on a day to day basis. Which is why I say “ I too: have issues as well. But! I will not let them pass on to my children.” I mean, I’m the only one who can! My sister cut out her testicles. I mean what the fuck. Now the burden of having children falls on to my shoulders. Besides children, being an Issue. I have to say that my sister in personality is very much like my mother. I’ve also put her on the back burner. She is the pot of beans I put on the stove. But have not turned on. Her energy and personality is too dam extra at times when I’m trying to chill & be breezy.

Well. recently that hot tempered extra person. Done and went down and simmered. Which for me, is not normal at all. I’d rather seem my sister annoyed than sad. Because I don't know what she would do if she’s too sad. That scares me! I have no clue what to do if she was too, too sad. This simmering pot of water I need her to be at a boil. But! she would not allow me to know what’s going on with her. Until It was a bit much for her to hold in. This year alone three of her friends/ associates has died. And one of her really good cis female friends had gotten into a very rough car crash where her face and the steering wheel were basically one. Not to mention she he self is living a life that most deem problematic.  

To be continued...   

tumblr tuesday: after dark

This one goes out to all the late wakers and slow risers, the long sleepers, the nighttime creepers—whatever your current time of day. Sometimes, the late night light can be something to celebrate. While some sleep, streetlights pour glassy neon out over nocturnal nothings: a moment of quiet, brought to you by photographers from all around the world who stay up late and capture the magic. Here, have a little after-hours aesthetique for your troubles.  

@pwh3:

@nthnsu:

@sleeplessintokyo87:

@lunadarkbloom​:

@junonordberg​:

@jcksphotos​:

@greenamanita​:

@tokyocandid​:

Dear Diary #2

Today is another day in the life that I wish I had better control over. Recently I had done a reading for this Philly photographer I know of. for some shrooms. I had an interesting experience the first time I had tried it. So I wanted to try it again.

He's in town for New York fashion week. He stopped by my job to drop them off. Honestly I was a bit annoyed by him because he took an additional 3 hours to get to me. He through me off track for the evening. I have a nightly routine I like to keep to. I work out when I wake up, go to work and work out before I go to sleep.

Well, after getting the shrooms, I have to say that I honestly hesitated to take them. I was alone that night. And people have always said that if you're not experienced in it that you should not take them alone.... But! I did anyway. I like to make tinctures or teas. Instead of taking them flat out. To me I think it's easier to control them that way. If I have felt I've taken too much I can always dilute it. Or! so I thought.

After a few days of contemplating if I should do it or not. I evenly took out my portable coffee grinder. Placed the bits and pieces of the shrooms into the grinder and ground them into a course mix and added it to a tea that I had brewed for fat loss. Man!!!! was that shit nasty. lol There was not enough brown sugar in the world to replace that taste. lol

After taking a few sips, I was not feeling anything at all so I started to gulp it. Five min started to pass. Then ten, around twenty minutes. I started to hear the Tv slur. Which slightly freaked me out. I was too shocked because the high's I've ever experienced were head highs. Not body highs and this! This high, was both. I stared laughing for what ever reason. I was very confused about it. I felt like a child. I really did! I was scared & confused because I did not know what I should expect. But! at the same time I felt safe and wanted. Weird! right!?

My mind was too nervouse think about anything. Honestly all I could focus on was the good and not the bad. My shroom experience made me realize. I am not alone. I'm not a terrible man, I'm not hateful as much as I thought I was. And I'm only responding to what has been presented to me and this is not me. I'm actually a happy person. I'm beautiful or handsome if you want to add gender. I'm not a loser. I'm not alone. I have purpose and I have value. The people who walk with me in life are here because they choose to. Not because they have to. & to me that means the world. Because If you choose to do something. It says so much about the person you choose to do stuff for.

For years I have always been hard on myself. I let the experices I had define who I was. And not anymore! I'm strong enough to understand the difference between experiences and choices. All the things that I have been holding on to were and are experiences. Not my choice. Not me.

I'm not too sure if I would ever take shrooms again. I said out loud to myself several times, I don't like this feeling. I felt very whoosh and my motor functions were not the best. I felt like a methadone addict on 125th the way I was leaning in my house. The walls were trailing as I passed by them. I like it and did not like it at the same time. Ask me in a few months and I'll tell you how I feel. Knowing me, I'll probably say yes again. lol

Albeit this is me sharing my experience with you. Not! telling you to do it. I needed to know for myself what this was about and I was curious about it. Since, I've done a very small amount before this experience. I also called my Enchantress friend. So technically I was not a lone. even though She lives in the next state over!

“Valor withers without adversity.”

— Seneca, On Providence

Yasssssss

Beautiful Storm art by David Nakayama.

In the last few months things have been more abnormal, than normal for me. It’s pretty interesting to say that I find myself operating at a level of chaos that I shouldn’t be. Hectic situations are like being able to see the sun clearly. Where others only see purple storm clouds. I have always been grown. My youth was stolen from me. Ripped from the cage in my chest that holds my little beating heart. The adults around me forged a weapon against one another fom my little remains. Mother and child against father with son. Kin against kin.

Since the age of 7 years, adults have questioned me! Told me! Volun-told me what I should think and what I should do.

From there I was told how I should feel about my mother and ill fitting she was. And I was told about how much a loser my father was. Nothing, was fair for me. No experience of greatness thrusted for me to experiment of what I had come from. Only what I supposedly lacked.

By the ones we call family. On both sides, are the ones that create situations that ultimately have nothing to do with them. It’s always when the shoe is placed on the other foot they see how it feels.. …With no regret, I practice my bitch craft and I practice it fiercely. No hold bars. And anyone can catch a sift blade of my palatial sword. Burn from my relentless gaze.

I. Still angry because no one want to hear me speak. Vent, let out all of that anger. Tell my truth. I need to have the. Own up to what they have done. Admit that you were wrong and that I cost me emotionally type venting. In the end everything feels as it doesn’t matter because I was not planned more wanted in the first place. The shadows of there faces linger on my thought because I have been on my own for a very long while. I have been creating my own families. And still nothing ever compares. In one way or another I am, in the subtlest of ways. Reminded of my place in these places. In these groups, in these homes. I think that I will feel at ease. And at home, when I create my own organic family. Find my partner. Build a home. Create a stable life. And have babies.

I think that I’m ready to do this and never look back at those who I have come from. To never let my children and partner know what foolery, ignorance and contemptuous people that I birth from. “Now Is the time. Now is the hour. Now is the magic. Now is the power!”