Friday, December 28, 2012


Man, my oldest son threw something at me today.

The boys and I were driving home after spending a day of shopping, dinner and a movie.  From the passenger seat of the car, he said, "He's supposed to be coming up here for a visit."  I nodded my head.  I had heard this information twice before.  Once from my ex and once from my younger son.  It seems both sons are (at least kind of) looking forward to this visit.  I try not to think of it at all.  Men say things.  Not all things are true.  Get me?

Anyway, upon my oldest son's announcement in the car, I simply nodded my head.  What was there to say? He went on, "Do you think you'll hook up with him when he's here?"
What?!  Hook up??  What the...?  My response, "He's still mad at me."
"Maybe not," the man-child continued, "he wished you a Merry Christmas."  He did indeed.

So, let me back up.  My first response to my teenager's inquiry was: he's still mad at me.  Not: Get the heck out of here!  Not: I'm not interested in going there!  Not even. just plain: no.  What was that about? And while we're at it, why did I find myself fighting back tears as I continued to drive on in silence?  What was THAT about?

Yes, I find myself thinking about him often.  Yes, I wonder if I were better at being a wife, would he have learned to be a better husband, and would my family still be together.  I did leave. I put him out of our home twice and then I left the city.  I know why I did it.  I still loved him, but he was not doing the things I needed him to do.  I did communicate my needs to him.  Well, to be honest, I didn't communicate all of my needs to him.  I did not take him into my confidence.  It was stupid of me to think that he would figure that out on his own.  So stupid.  And then, there is the other reason.  Insecurity?  Maybe that is what I should call it.  Being honest, right?  I know why he married me. Our son.

But why did he stay married to me?  Shelter?  Security?  Love?  Me?  He never said.  Never said. And I needed to know.  I figured that if I gave him the space, he would fly away, or he would move Heaven and Earth to get me and the boys back.  But he didn't move heaven or earth.  He stayed.  He stayed and an anger festered in him.  He learned to hate me.  He moved to Atlanta, with his mother, and still he felt nothing but anger.

In the meantime, I was learning to communicate.  And I began to see where I went wrong in this relationship.  I began to try to communicate with him, but he was too angry to try with me.  I let more time go by, and I would try again.  Still angry.  More and more time would pass, until I stopped trying and began admitting that it was lost.  It was over, and it was time to move on. This could not be the plan God had in store for me anyway.  What God has in store for me would feel good to my whole self.  Holding on to some hope that my husband would love me the way I want to be loved and the way I wanted to give love was fruitless.  As a matter of fact, holding on to my hopes with him must be blocking God's plan. Let it go.  Let it go.  Let it go, girl.

I spent the last two years letting it go.  How is it that one suggestion of a "hook up" could chip away at my wall so easily?

Thursday, December 27, 2012

About 94 pounds and counting...

So...some changes have come over me since the weight has been coming off.  I have the desire to break off a little cookie.
Yeah, I said it.  Let's marinate on that for a moment....

Okay, the real problem is there is no one to give the cookie to.  No prospects at all.  For years, I barely registered men in my surroundings.  They were simply assholes walking around.  All after one thing - but not my thing, so why bother with them?  I just walked around like a defensive lineman.  Don't bother to look at me 'cause I ain't thinking about you!

Then I started losing weight.  I have more energy.  I can bound up the stairs at work.  I'm looking good in my clothes, and I know it. And now, I'm looking at you.  Yeah, and you too.  All of a sudden, I feel as though someone has lifted my hood, and for the first time in years, I see men all around me.

Don't misunderstand me. Just because I notice them, does not mean I'm ready to share THIS cookie with just any man I see.  After 4 and 1/2 years of keeping it on lock, I recognize the value in my cookie, and I will not be handing it out willy-nilly.  The man I decide to share it with will have to be WORTHY.  Ahhh...there's the rub.

Where does a mature woman like myself, with renewed body, mind, and spirit, find a worthy man?

  • where "black people meet"?  Oh, no.
    • The men I've communicated with are ghetto, or get straight to asking for MY COOKIE. What nerve!
  • where more matches are made?  Absolutely not.
    • So far, I've met one man who picked me up in a giant F150, did NOT help me climb up into the monster truck, took me to watch him eat dinner, and then, even though I made a point of telling him how I DO NOT LIKE going to clubs, took me to a club.  Oh yeah, when I slipped on the icy bar trying to climb back into the truck after his dinner, the joker did not even get out to see if I was okay.  That was my one and only match.
  • In my living room, in front of the TV? Nope.
    • Enough said there.
  • At Walmart? Unh-unh.
    • Plenty of men there, but they are usually following behind another woman like a puppy on a leash, waiting for her to pay for everything.  No thank you.  Been there, done that.
  • At the movie matinee with my sons? Nothing happening.
    • Besides, my sons block like its the final quarter in Lakers game (during the late 80's when the Lakers were my ish!)

So what's a girl to do?  I'm going to have to do something different.
Okay, okay.  The next opportunity I have to go somewhere where grown-ups congregate, I will jump on it.

Before the cookie crumbles...

Getting ready to attend a family members birthday party.

Thursday, October 4, 2012

Food for Thought

      So, I caught a glimpse of myself in the Walmart doors as I was entering the other day.  For the first time in years, I liked what I saw.  It took me by surprise.  I almost stopped to stare at my reflection, but the automatic doors whooshed open before I could really entertain the idea.  But the mark had already been made; the image was in my head.  That dumpy mom of two is gone, and she has been replaced by this sexy chick who is light on her feet.

     The other day, a teacher down the hall from my classroom asked if I'd lost weight.  "Why, yes I have lost a little weight." (70 pounds!)  She said she thought so because she saw me walking down the hall, and I "was twitching pretty fast down the hall."  I had to laugh at that one.  She's absolutely right.  I do walk faster.  There is a certain bounce in my step again.  I am alive again!

     Want to see the difference?
Summer 2008
Summer 2010
Fall 2012 (5 pounds over my 2nd goal)
      I'm still losing weight.  I'm committed to finding the true me beneath it all, and resuming the life I put on hold.  Everything taste different.  No, not just the food.  I mean, all of my experiences taste different.  

      And I am savoring every morsel of it.

My Old Post

TUESDAY, JUNE 22, 2010

Father's Day

Father's Day. What is there to say about Father's Day? I've never celebrated this day set aside for men who raise children.

I met my father for the first time when I was 17 years old. He lived in the same zip code as my mother and me. I won't go into what that means. Any person with an iota of intelligence can figure that out. He had a family at his address. A wife, three sons and a daughter. Perhaps they gave him cards on Father's Day. I wouldn't know.

After our initial meeting, I spent many years chasing this allusive thing with him. I thought, at the time, I was looking for love. I've since come to understand that love is a verb. It is a thing that is done. It is not something you can hold in your hand, or pull out of a pocket or wallet, or wear like a hat. Why was I searching for this allusive thing as though my father was hiding it behind his back?

Now that I am a parent, I understand a little more about parenting. I didn't learn this from my father. (Perhaps his absence was an influence.) I didn't even learn it all from my mother (who, by the way, served as both mother and father to me -- everyday). No I learned and continue to learn my parenting from my children.

There is no book or pattern really that can provide you with a How to Raise Children Who are Loved method. I have found the best teacher to be living with my sons. I feed them when they are hungry. I clothe them. I scold them when they are wrong. I hug them. By being present, I see what they need. I love them.

Even though I grew up knowing only a father who carried his love for me in his pocket and pulled it out on occasion to take me to dinner, and my sons, so far, only know about a father who put his love in his backpack when we separated, I'm praying that Nigel and Noah will grow up to be fathers who know that love is a verb.


Been curling my hair and making that extra effort to look nice. It is making a difference, if only for me. I feel better because I feel like I look good. Thought I may have met someone interesting, and of course, he turns out to be married to my boss' sister. What are you gonna do? BUT, I still hold out hope on the romance front.

My mother continues to get better everyday. She still complains about pain in her feet due to the nerve damage that was complicated by the chemo treatments. her nails, though, are starting to grow back. She is growing some fine hair. She is even up and doing things around the house. She has been talking about going back to church since the Christmas holiday, but so far she hasn't quite felt like she can make it all the way through a service. BUT, there is progress.

I am starting to feel the "need to get my own place" itch. I've even started looking at some places online. Just dreaming a little dream, you know. Once I've paid for my son's trip to Europe, I can start saving for the summer and for our own place. I'd really like to be able to get our stuff out of storage and move by the end of the summer. That sounds like a TALL order. I'll just have to remember that I can only do what I am able to do. Baby steps.


The Power of Words

I have had an epiphany.

After I apologized to my old boyfriend for what I did to him those many years ago, I remembered what I said to myself then. I told myself, "If you do this, you deserve whatever you get. You will be treated the same way you are treating him, and that is what you deserve." I didn't know then that I was placing myself under a 20 year curse. I have gotten exactly what I told myself I would get. From that moment on I expected to be wronged by any man that came into my life. I expected and accepted that misery would be my company. BUT...

As I released the words of apology to my old friend, I felt a weight falling from my shoulders. I actually remembered those fatal words I put upon myself so long ago. And then I realized, I NEED to forgive myself. I have carried the weight of shame and guilt. I had tied these things around my neck like a shackle. And I have the power to release them.

I accept my apology. I am worthy of so much more than I have accepted. Shame is not my friend and I have nothing to be ashamed of.

"Good-by Shame."

Guilt is not my friend, and I have nothing to feel guilty about.

"Good-bye Guilt."

My friend moved on years ago. I stayed stuck in that place; I no longer want to dwell there.

I forgive me and I am moving on.



I was recently in touch with a former boyfriend on one of the popular social sites. This contact has sent me on a spiral. We were childhood friends who turned into high school lovers/friends. When I went away to college, I had some events to occur that sent me spiraling out of control. I was still dating this high school friend (but long distance). On his last visit to see me, I was already becoming someone and something that I am not proud of today. I especially am not proud of the way I left him at the airport waiting for me to come and get him. He wound up finding another way to get home after sitting and waiting in the airport for I don't know how long.
Long story - short, he has, of course, moved on with his life and done very well for himself. He has a beautiful family. I have also grown up over the years. Although my marriage is now kaput, I have two beautiful sons. I wouldn't trade them for the world.
But when I look at my love life (or the lack, thereof), I feel sad. I am looking for someone who can be my friend AND my lover. See the irony? Of course, who knows what would have happened. We were children back then and may not have made it to this ripe middle age, but it doesn't stop me from feeling sad about what might have been.


Play With Me
Those are the same eyes that used to look at me
as though I was the greatest thing since mashed bananas in a jar
since peanut butter on crackers
since macaroni and cheese
since chocolate cake.
But now those eyes see straight through me.
And even though I straighten up
dust off the wear and tear
cover up the unsightly fear, anger, sadness.
I get the feeling that somehow I no longer measure up.
And there is no more left of me
No more singing in the middle of the living room.
No more dancing like a soul train fool.
No more talking about nothing.
No more.
Can I just have five minutes, please?


Reflecting on teaching...

Okay, so I'm sitting around and thinking about what else I might be able to do with this English degree. Editor (where to start), writer (can't pay the bills), Wal-Mart greeter (don't always feel like being cheery - but is that really a requirement?).

I guess I go through this every year. The moments when I'm less than in-love with my current student roster. Even last year, I had a class to inspire me to write poetry again. (Poem below)
I was able to share the poem with the class and even had them analyze it for poetic devices. I'm sure the foul language had nothing to do with their interest.

I Throw Down My Pen in 8th Period 
What more is there to say?
You have heard it all.
“Miss, don’t nobody want to hear that s***.”
You say.
But, no.
Here I stand
With pen in hand
Pressure erupting
Muscles tense
Words escaping
Doesn’t make sense.
How can it be
That you don’t care when
Bass booming
Getting’ that gat
Wadin’ in weed
Crappin’ out crack
Dropping that dope
Backslapping b****es
“Naw, we in the trenches.”
The trenches?
What are you fighting for
Your king is now the jester
Your queen is now the joke
To poke
And forget
Your prince is now a regret
Your princess is just an object
I lift my pen from the overhead.
I guess, you told me.
No more left to be said.

It did feel good to get that off my chest, and I was able to teach another day. Perhaps it is time to pull out the notebook again. Prescription: more poetry.



I miss my privacy. Was getting dressed this morning, and my youngest son just opened the curtain. Yes, a curtain is all I have to separate me from the rest of the house. Sometimes I really resent it. Like this morning.

When I first decided to move back in with my mother, I claimed the bedroom with the door and told the boys they would sleep in the other room. Of course, my mother vetoed me and put the boys in the room with the door. Well, I didn't know what to make of that then, and I still don't.

It's only temporary though. When she is all better (hopefully by summer), the boys and I will get our own place. I can once again close a door and have some privacy, sit on my bed naked if I want to.

I think that is the hardest part of being in my mother's house again: sucking it all in with nowhere to spit out what feels rotten.

Thursday, August 16, 2012

Almost at my first goal

Last week, I saw my nutritionist and did the weigh in.

For the first time, their scale did not disappoint.  I am only 18 pounds away from my first goal!  Believe me, this is a big deal.  When I started this journey, I weighed in at 266 pounds.  Every visit to the doctor's office saw me in tears.  At first, the tears were because I couldn't believe that I had come to a place where I was almost 300 pounds.  Then, the tears were because I couldn't believe that all the food sacrifices I had made and all the sweating I'd done had not made any impact on my weight.  Oh yeah, there was that one time that I'd managed to drop 4 pounds.  But then I tried to quit smoking and gained 10 pounds. Then I managed to lose 14 pounds, and then gained it all back again. SO actually my efforts were having an impact on my weight.  It looked like the harder I tried, the more a I gained. If I continued on this track I would reach the dreaded 300 mark before I knew it.  I was a weeping mess.

So, when I stepped onto the scale and it read 218 pounds, I walked away with a smile.  I get to buy my first outfit when I am under 200 pounds.  Am I where I want to be?  No, not yet.  I'm still a work in progress.  But, by golly, I'm making progress!

Wednesday, May 30, 2012

One week later

So, it's been a full week and two days since I had my weight loss surgery.  I feel great.  There is mostly just discomfort in my side, but there is a bit of pain when getting up from a sitting or lying down position.  But mostly, I feel great!

The biggest down side is that I can't eat real food.  A few days ago, I was stuck on a pure liquid diet.  Now, I'm able to eat pureed food.  I didn't realize this particular diet would be soooooo long!  So, looking for the positive side, I went out and purchased the Magic Bullet so that I can puree myself crazy.

I also got the okay to go back to the gym, so I will be returning to Spunks this week.  Just doing something small and slow to get back into the swing of things.

I'm hoping to get Noah signed up for Tae Kwon Do.  He says it's something he's interested in, and I'm hoping it will be a way for him to become more physically active while doing something he enjoys.  Not to mention, he could learn discipline and build self-esteem.

We will see...

Saturday, February 25, 2012

10:42 pm

I'm craving something to eat. Why? I know I'm not hungry. Gotta beat this.

Day 1

Feeling pretty rotten tonight.  Don't know if it's because it is the end of my 'vacation' or if it is loneliness catching up with me.  Earlier today my older son was reminiscing about his step-father.  We were having a good conversation, and then he must  have caught a look on my face, because he decided to drop the conversation abruptly. I'm sure if he did catch a look, he misunderstood it. Shit, I don't even know what the look was about.
Half fondness, half regret, half resentment, half loneliness...The list goes on.

Okay, the reason for this blog.
The therapist thinks I am an emotional eater. ...Duh!

I don't really want to do this.

Maybe later. :(