Do You Really KNOW Me?

When you look at my face, what do you see? Do you see a person of trust? Do you see a person of respect? Do you see someone you can have fun with? Do you see someone you can confide in? Do I look like a person who pays all her bills on time? Am I someone you could envision yourself doing business with?

A lot of people do not know me. That’s because I spent a long time not knowing myself. Sometimes that can happen when a person is deeply traumatized; they retreat into another world to escape the pain felt being present in this one. I've gone through the day to day life (you may have lived with me, or gone to school with me, or work(ed)with me, you may have befriended/dated/partied with me) but I wasn't fully engaged. Well in the words of Erykah Badu “I don’t wanna time travel no mo’. I wanna be here.”

I want people to know me. "Know me” means something totally different now, than what it used to mean when I was, say, 21. Back then, “know me” meant having people say “oh she is SUCH a sweet person!” These days, “know me” means something more like the tangible versions of trust and respect and charity. "Know me" means seeing and relating to the totality of my character, flaws & all. "Know me" means allowing my writings to speak to a place within you that exists within me (within all of us) that you are too afraid to acknowledge and love. A place of vulnerability, yet a place of untapped and unlimited thought and potential for greatness.

Allow me, through the writing gift that God has given me, to reintroduce myself to YOU

Shame, pt. 2

I’d say the solitary event that brought the most shame and changed the trajectory of my esteem for 17 years is when I was raped at age 14. Sure there was prison and counseling involved at the time, but it didn’t go far enough. No relative outside of my immediate family knew (immediate being mother and younger brother). I may have only told one or two close friends about it. I even had a boyfriend I told used it against me when we got into an argument and I vowed to never talk about it again.

Prior to my experience, I do not recall being sat down and explained to what rape was. My idea of rape was courtesy of television. Rape was violent. Rape involved a woman at least putting up a struggle to keep her honor. But, sometimes rape isn’t violent. Sometimes the victim is blamed. Sometimes the victim can get counseling but still suffers, like a person involved in a car accident with side effects long after the moment of impact happened. I felt shame because I was raped and I did not fight back. I felt like a loser. Counseling did not explain this feeling away.

As a young adult, I witnessed some with the courage to air their dirty laundry face criticism. And it was not just of rape, but whatever else society considers to be dirty laundry (molestation, addictions, abuse, poverty, etc). I silenced myself for fear of experiencing the same and pretended to be a well adjusted human being and get on with “normal” life. But there are some things you cannot work away; you cannot party and drink away, and you cannot sex away; you cannot eat or exercise away, you cannot shop away, you cannot concert away, and dare I say you cannot even church & pray away with fervor (yes, I wholeheartedly done that too).

It makes sense now, the difficulty I’ve faced trying to trudge through life goals full steam ahead while dismissing what I perceived to be trivial mental distractions. It was really my intuition calling me to address what I’d suppressed for so many years – the deceitfulness and betrayal of the shame I felt in being me, a young girl who did not fight back. Every wrong, every unfavorable outcome or opinion, every imagined rejection, every soured relationship, I would tell myself how I allowed it to happen and didn’t fight back, and suddenly I was 14 again. This pattern wasn’t a conscious realization until now.

The right questions and answers have been coming to help me figure out how to go about getting true healing for myself. I no longer shun the idea of seeking counseling again. And as I said in pt 1, I believe part of my healing & letting go was being transparent and writing about it. I am going add complete self-honesty and really thinking about my needs first. I need love without judgment. I need people I can trust. I need to practice trusting wisely and loving without judgment and not running away when things get ugly or imperfect. I believe it all starts with me - loving and trusting myself without judgment, and without shame.

Coming out of the Closet (of Shame)

I want to talk about shame, and how shame has shaped roughly 17 out of 31 years of my life. I’m writing this because I’ve been holding on to something for a long time, feeling ashamed about it, and didn’t realize I still was (see Shame pt. 2). I understand the effect shame has had over my life and I believe in order to heal and truly let it go I need to be transparent and talk (write) about it.

First, let’s define shame. Some definitions (all from the Oxford Pocket Dictionary of Current English):

“A painful feeling of humiliation or distress caused by the consciousness of wrong or foolish behavior”

“A loss of respect or esteem; dishonor”

“A person, action or situation that brings a loss of respect or honor”

“cause (someone) to feel ashamed or inadequate by outdoing or surpassing them”

So, to use some of these definitions in place of the word shame: I have been carrying with me some very painful feelings of humiliation and distress, caused by both subliminal and overt messages and circumstance, basically telling me who I am is wrong and undesirable. I felt humiliated and ashamed to be me. For being tall, for being poor, with small eyes and a wide nose like my father and dark brown skin. It felt painful. I felt inadequate for not being loud and entertaining; not being well known and well connected. I felt inadequate for not being the so called black man’s dream, for having no ass, or not showing my ass; for having small breasts and the inability (and later flat out refusal) to stay in the mall and the salon.

Yeah, the frustration and constant reminder of my so called “flaws” replaying over and over again in my mind and not knowing how to turn them off, is enough to make anyone slightly neurotic.

Here is how shame has impacted me:

1) I viewed myself as a burden therefore I did everything I could to stay in the background, as close to invisible as possible. However shame begat shame, as staying in the background meant the shame of not being a popular and outgoing (fun) personality. I tried managing what people thought and felt about me by being sweet, silent, submissive (and adversely, forgettable); the Omega female. Looking back, this was really all an attempt to indirectly minimize my feelings of inferiority (shame).

2) I never learned how to effectively communicate my feelings. I learned to suppress them because I assumed that nobody cared to know. I recall as a teen, when I wanted to talk to my mother about my thoughts and my feelings, I didn’t receive the feedback I longed for that let me know she heard and understood me. My attempts to gain clarity were met with subject changing, passive ignoring, and attention on something else of her interest. This is how I perceived and interpreted our interactions, and I further interpreted them to mean I must not be interesting enough to give attention to (shame). So, again, be quiet. What other people say, think & feel is more interesting and surpasses my own words, thought and feelings. My coping mechanisms became writing and “thinking out loud” when I was alone.

3) I learned to run away when things got too real. Relationships can get messy. If someone did something I didn’t like, I have seethed in self-righteous silence or sabotaged or flat out ended the entire relationship. It was easier than saying “hey, you did/said xyz and it made me feel like this.” Again, I was ashamed of my feelings. I felt hopeless that anything would change. My decision making skills were based upon imagined events that had never even taken place. This is what happens when an overactive creative imagination is used in a negative way.

4) Having to be my own coach and mentor, my own friend, my own therapist because shame imprisoned me from trusting others and reaching out for help because “that’s what ‘weak’ people do and the last thing I want to do is be perceived as weak because that’s what I already think everybody is thinking about me”…feeling weak for needing outside validation. No. What I was really seeking was somebody to tell me I was okay just the way I was. What I was really seeking was for somebody to LISTEN to ME and ask me what I thought and how I felt, without being prompted, and actually care about the answer just as much as I made it my business to care what others thought and felt (reciprocity). But I didn’t know how to communicate that.

I probably could have made this into several posts but my thoughts and urgency to share began to flow faster than I could type. Like the root of a tree that has many branches there will be more to come. And I needed to get this out because I have a CPA exam to finish and a few malnourished business ideas I need to develop, among other goals.

Friends vs Frenemys

I felt compelled to jot down my thoughts about this topic really quick after reading an online article in Essence magazine entitled "5 Ways To Your Best Year: Friend Wisely" by Coach Felicia (Dec 07, 2012).

I've always longed for the bond that comes with sisterhood, having a best friend that I can trust. I felt robbed of that opportunity because I didn't grow up with my older sisters. I grew up with two younger brothers. And dealing with the cattiness of some girls in school, although I had what I would call casual acquaintances I never got over the trauma of being bullied, enough to really be confident and expressive. Holding on to the pain of my trauma isolated me from establishing a true bond with other girls, and women as I grew older.

Why is having friends even important? Because you can refute it all day long, but outside of family (and sometimes despite your family) having true friends help you grow and survive. No "scientific evidence" is needed to conclude that! We have so many cliche sayings and songs written about friendship gone bad, but really they are talking about frenemys. Frenemys give true friends a bad name and overshadow the benefit that come with having a true friend in your life.

It's tough navigating the waters of the world not knowing who is truly your friend or who is a frenemy. Sometimes when you long for companionship or having another there who halfway shows an interest in understanding you, you are willing to accept almost any form of acquaintance. In other words, throughout my 20s it left me being associated with women (and men) who really did not have my best interest at heart. They didn't care whether I succeeded or not, because they were too self-absorbed with getting their own brand of happiness (or discussing the lack thereof) and "success" which included putting others down. Just another distraction to keep them from dealing with their own emotional pain, insecurities, jealousies and frustrations!!!

When I was a little girl, I was taught that if you want everyone to like you and be your friend, you have to "be nice" and "play nice." Some of us learned early on that, while well intended, this is not how the majority of the world operate. Well, I was not part of that "some of us." I had to learn the hard way; I've had to confront the hurt that results from the revelation that who I thought was a friend, who I thought was "for" me, in fact, was not. This was all in spite of my niceties.

Unlike the days of my girlhood, I don't desire to have lots of friends (really frenemies in disguise). What I DO desire is authentic relationships where I can celebrate others and they genuinely desire to celebrate me in return; relationships in which we inspire and challenge each other to be the best versions of ourselves as possible.

The Kiss of Death

I died three times by the wiles of Scorpio,
The prince of betrayal
His heart, a shadow of darkness

I surmised he was a factory of confection
Cloaked in subtleties and gentle affection
He opened his bed, I opened my purse
I offered my heart, he unleashed his curse
Six hundred sixty slashes, carried away in a hearse
Old friend as an accomplice, to make matters worse

His second coming himself made manifest as black widow
Kissed his tears away as he wept on my pillow
But HIS kisses literally stole the breath from my lungs…
I died from suffocation
Narcissist falsification
Fanciful promises of a high life strung out like a user
I was his drug and he was my abuser
The piper he pied
He lied! How he lied!
The sniper he shot
I died! I died!
Could not escape for my own protection

The third: death by lethal injection
T’was as a gazelle grazing fields unaware
Once more the object of Scorpion’s stare
We meet again prince, third time’s a charm!
From subconscious love to aroused in his arms
The heat of his seductive toffee lips melting mine
The venom of his tail penetrating my spine…

Far below the surface of his frozen ice
Flows a river that knows no bounds
A space in him that’d never been touched
A vulnerability I found
Upon his discovery of my intuitive reverie
Cast out the ice kingdom was I
Laid out in shame, myself to blame
Alone in the courtyard, I died

Regenerated myself as a phoenix can
Wary of the kiss of the Scorpion man
Betrayed me thrice, shan’t give another chance
To be back ‘round for another dance
Yet karmic twined lovers are he and I
His kiss of death births my next life

Still

Still living in Chicagoland
Still workin for the man
Still natural
Still perpetually single
Still apartment living
Still striving for the CPA
Still reading books & learning
Still frequent the same parties
Still nice girl by day
Still closet freak by night
Still a traveling world citizen
Still open minded
Still trying to figure out life
Still learning me
Still reserved and indecisive at times
Still living in my head more than in the world
Still emotional, philosophical
Still very spiritual and intuitive
Still seeing the good in others
Still giving more than I ever take, yet
Still taking more than what I ever dish out
Still wouldn't trade my world for anyone else's
Still loving life...

Life Is Like A Movie

Life is like a movie. We are all actors & actresses, playing our roles. We didn’t write the script, we don’t know the fate of the characters so don’t bother speculating. Relax and enjoy the movie, let it play out as it will. Accept every twist and turn that the unpredictable movie plot throws your way. Accept that many characters (those who portray your relatives, friends, lovers and enemies) will enter and exit your main stage so enjoy them, but don’t become overly attached to them. But most importantly remember, you are not who you are portraying.

Don’t form an opinion or judgment about who you are portraying, about the plot, or even about the other characters. Just play and enjoy the role. If you were watching “Jennifer Anniston” acting in a film, and when it got to the part where her character had to suffer, she said “I change my mind. I don’t like this part; I quit!!”…imagine how that would absolutely wreck the scene and the development of her character?

Don’t believe or take personally anything that anyone does or tells you. You cannot take their curses OR their praises personally, because what they say about you is all based upon the character that they are portraying and all that their character has endured throughout the movie thus far. It has nothing to do with you or who you truly are. You cannot even take what you think about your own self personal, because what you think about yourself is not based on who you are, but based on how you see yourself through the eyes of the character you portray.

Life becomes burdensome when you forget who you really are and start believing you are your character. How ridiculous would it be if “Christian Bale” forgot he was “Christian Bale”, and started believing he was really Batman?

All your beliefs about who think you are is only what you represent in the movie (your gender, your sexual orientation, your ethnicity, your nationality, your religion, your social status, your economic status, your political affiliation, even your so-called education). They are merely aspects of the character that you portray. They are not you! You have problems when you strongly identify with those things and the behaviors you have been trained to associate with them and you believe they are the pinnacle of life. You haven’t even got to the good part of the movie!

It’s easy to become attached because you’ve been playing this character for so long. You may even become disturbed or experience anger or denial as your mind will fight this whole notion that you are an actor simply playing a role. But remember, everything is temporary, even your feelings. While your feelings may feel very intense and authentic, they are also merely perceived through the limited senses of your character, not you.

The actor who distinguishes him/herself from their character brings more versatility to the role; the action, comedic and romantic scenes are much more enjoyable; the drama, suspense and horror scenes much more endurable. The one who knows who they truly are fully appreciates the movie for the experience that it is.

Find out who you REALLY are so you can fully enjoy the movie that is life.