It is very possible to feel both full and empty at the same damn time. Or am I the only one experiencing 2020 like that?

I’ve dubbed it the year of irony.

It has been the best year of my life. It has also been one of the saddest. Skyscraper highs and earth-shattering lows. It has been active but still. Kind, but harsh. Full of love and full of loneliness.

Oh, but love.

Love has been exceptionally good to me this year. I smile on the inside whenever I take a moment to absorb that. I try to take those moments as often as possible. I’ve given me the best that I got. Love that is finally patient and kind. I’ve often shared that, and people instantly start speaking in high-pitched, giddy voices about me opening myself to dating. I don’t bother to explain that I’m talking pure, real, raw love. From God, through me. That’s what I’m talking about.

In my 20s-30s, love was sex, attention, money and sweating me. Blow my phone up, ask me to stay another day after spending a week with you, say “us” or “ours”, move in without asking; show me that you want to stick around. That’s how I measured love. At 45, it’s peace. It’s the absence of chaos. It’s me listening to me, to God. It’s that smile when we enter each others space. It’s silence and being content in it. It’s home feeling like home. It’s people feeling like home. It’s cutting ties, permanently. Logically. No drama and fighting. It’s order. It’s safe space. That is love for me.

Tonight, I texted my mom. “Hey Ma, just sending some extra love to you tonight. Just seems like we need to do that more. I love you. And that’s all lol.” I was a blubbering mess as soon as I hit send. I had just hung up the phone with her. I talk to my mom everyday. I’ve seen her twice since March but only from the outside of my car. I haven’t been able to lay my big head in her lap. She has only been able to see the grands on video. My mom adores her great-grandchildren.

Right after talking to her tonight, I felt a deep, deep ache in the pit of my stomach. I miss her. I talk to my mom every single day, live 25 minutes from her and I missed her so much tonight that I cried until my eyes were swollen. Super-sensitive and heightened, energy is everything to me right now and I needed hers so bad.

We are all at capacity. If you’re anything like me, you’re being extremely mindful of how you’re using any extra space. Which is one of the reasons it took a minute for me to get back into this groove.

20 unedited drafts just sitting there. I really did have the best intent a few months back. I was going to take advantage of the time I had at home and bless you all with a few humdingers and tales. Nope. Something else was going on with me.

Each time I logged on, I’d see the notifications glaring back at me and log right back out. Writer’s block? No. I had plenty to say. I was experiencing shit. A lot. Changes at home, changes at work, changes in people and all of this while dealing with a tear in my cervical cuff, post-surgery. How was it possible to have so much shit swirling while I was sitting still? I found myself waving white flags from my hands and feet, begging for a reprieve from it all.

I was listening to A Love Supreme, Part 1, Acknowledgement when it hit me. I was tired. I’m talking about soul-tired. Weary. How could I be so drained while floating and oozing in love?

I tried to dismiss it and push through, but the longer I sat and listened to him wail on that sax, whew chile something was happening! The more I listened, listened to him scream his peace and love for the Creator through that brass, I knew what I needed to do. I needed to tell the truth. To me.

Someone loved me. Correction, loves me. Shows me in ways, ahh.. ways I had never experienced from another human. Without conditions. It was a love that I knew I was capable of giving, but daydreamed of receiving. I loved him. But in the way that I love my lifelong friends. I was not in love. And I didn’t want to be. Let me explain.

I was neck-deep in bullshit. Bullshit people, bullshit experiences – just fruitless, polite and phony interactions and I didn’t see people the same. They were phony and all up in my face perpetuating it. In the midst of a pandemic. How in the fuck did they get there? At the suggestion of my amazing hair stylist, I had snatched the labels off. Kids, mom, friends, work family; no one was off the hook. I saw them. I saw me. I saw him.

Things were feeling too predictable and routine with him. Some people are seeking that norm. Not me, not anymore. While I was taking inventory and looking all up and through my life, I was mostly looking at me. I loved what I saw. How my mind was opening and expanding. I was paying attention to me, being good to me and as much as I adored him, he was in my way.

I explained in the beginning that I wouldn’t commit to anything with us. It had to just flow and he was ok with that but after awhile, I could feel him trying to ease into spaces that were finally all mine and I became defensive. It was almost PTSD in a way because in the past, my M.O. was following the language of others in my relationships, and not just the romantic ones. The desperation to be liked and loved. Going with the flow no matter where it led me.

I have my own flow now. I command it. I’ve become so selfish in that space and the routine of my experience with him was interfering. I was not ready to share the parts of me that I had just come to love. I knew that the more I adjusted and accepted him, it would only be a matter of time before I lost me again.

I had to tell this man who told me he’d love me through anything, who literally dropped whatever he was doing to come to my side, who said, “Give me those bills”, who brings me orange juice and ice every morning because it’s the only thing I can handle after taking my medication, who doesn’t celebrate birthdays because of his religion but went above and beyond to make sure that my celebration was amazing. This man who works 14 hour days while starting his own business and sat in my living room at 11pm his uniform, blowing up over 30 balloons for my grand babies. This man who responded, “I would never ask you to choose, baby.” when I told him that I would not sever ties with Mr. 51 or restrict myself from dating, I had to tell him that this had to end.

I was so thankful for him and this experience. His friendship is everything to me. But I could not return to who I was before. We were both saying things but our actions said more. It felt like I was in a relationship. I loved how he made me feel but I was not in love. Whenever one of my girlfriends cooed about us, I defensively said “I’m a happily single woman.” I could ooh and ahh about him but when others did it, it felt as if they were seeing me for the first time, full of love, because of him and I didn’t like it.

Why’d it take a man to shine the light on my love? I was feeling full, amazing and living just fine but no one saw that at first. When they did, it felt like they gave him the credit for loving me. Like a spoiled kid throwing a tantrum, I needed to prove a point. To irrelevant people. Oh Chile, I was losing it. So I took a few days off from social media, people, phones to just be quiet, to listen and wait.

People will tell you that they want to see you expand. They can’t wait for you to see what they see in you.

“If I could only give you my eyes so that you can see what I see in you.” How many times have you heard that? They want you to look everywhere but at them. And that’s exactly what I’ve been doing, looking at errbody.

I inflate people. I’ll expand them in ways that are super-hero like; invincible and strong. I hang on to their every word, every act and can’t wait to shout “Look at this great person I’ve discovered!” from the mountain tops. When the human in them appears, bearing disappointment and fault, I bury them. It’s as if they never existed and then I move on in search of the next superhero. Everyone received a pedestal from me. I was snatching those bitches right back. Get down from there. I should’ve never placed you there to begin with.

I got up there for the first time in my entire fucking life. I wasn’t sharing credit with anyone. As much as I loved how he loved me, I refused to make an exception.

I told him I loved him. Thanked him for being who I had been waiting for in my previous chapter. I told him I wished that we’d found each other sooner, before I closed that book. This new book and at least the first few chapters of it, I explained that they needed to be for me. We fucking cried together. I know I hurt him but the more I cried the more I released. I had never ended things with someone in a civil way. There was no drama. No argument. No going to get protective orders. I released myself when I needed to and that was it. He grabbed my face and my hand and told me that there would never be a day when I couldn’t depend on him.

Love came into my life in the way that I thought I would always desire it. In all of this, I discovered a friend.

I say my truth out loud. I am not interested in commitment, right now and I won’t make myself no matter how good it feels. My only desire is mutual respect. I know what it feels like to put all of your Love eggs in one basket, and have those bitches handed back cracked with yolk everywhere. No regard for you delicateness. I don’t do that to people.

I tossed my veil of humility in trash when I realized that people expected me to always be that way. Even during times of celebrating me, I had been programmed to keep my eyes low. Diffuse compliments. Don’t be too proud, what will others think? FUCK OTHERS!

I’m free. From all of it and I am full of love to give, how I see fit. I’m going to live free wherever I go, here and eternally.

I’ve affirmed that even when I’ve reached great-grandmother status, my grandchildren will gather in corners and smirk and say, “Y’all know they say Mum-Mum still has a lover, right?” while watching from across the room at holiday dinners. I’ll sip my brandy and smile coyly back. Look at those chilm are sitting over there talking my business.

I’ll think and smile to myself, “I’m so glad I gave them something to talk about.” Then I’m gonna really give them a show when I reach out and kiss Mr. Step-Pop-Pop’s hand. An old ass hot ass I tend to be.

I hope that this post finds my folks well. I mean that sincerely. I think we all do these days. Even with all of the evilness spreading across this world, closer to home than anyone could ever imagine, there’s a huge majority out here just trying to be better and wanting that for others too. We want other to be well, stay well. Masks hide everything but the eyes and it seems that even on our best days, we now have a permanent twinge of sadness in them. Hopeful but sad. We could call this year fucked up. But what gives us the right, as survivors, to do that? It’s almost like spitting in the face of the Creator.

All I know is I want to come out of this better. That’s all I want for us all. See you soon.

5 thoughts on “Shrink-Wrapped Pussy.

  1. Whewww Sis, this was a phenomenal read & I really enjoyed your story!! This have me kinda reminiscing and reflecting on the happenings, past, present & future!! Keep up the good writing I’m here for it. XoxoXo

    Like

  2. Thank you for sharing your story. I really enjoyed reading your work. Your writings will also help others deal with their tug of wars too. I always thought that you were and are an excellent writer ever since high school. Keep up the great work because you have me as a reader.

    Liked by 1 person

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