Alone
In the dark
Unsure..

Alone
In the dark
Waiting..

Alone in the dark
Wishing
Craving

Alone in the dark
Emotions
Clawing
Desire
Building
Sorrow
Growing
Unease
Growing
Heartbeat
Racing
Hope
Floundering

Alone
In the dark
I want to talk
To you
About you
With you
About you

Alone
In the dark
I hold conversations
With you
But you're not here

I'm alone
In the dark

Acerbity....ever so near

I remember a short conversation with one person that segued into a slightly distasteful something with another.

I'd had my makeup done professionally and a colleague who was used to seeing me look more like one of the dudes or something was reeling in shock. Conversation follows:

He: "I can't believe this is you. You look really gorgeous. Why don't you do this more often?"

Me: (trying to hold the laughter in because I didn't  want to try the efficacy of the artist's waterproof mascara) "have you any idea how much work goes into this? I honestly can't be bothered to do this regularly. Normal makeup will have to suffice. This is for weddings only Biko."

She: (I hadn't even noticed there was someone there)..... giving him really dark looks and in a tone that made he and I look at each other and back at her "tell him joor. What is it?"

I assume from that exchange that she thought my response was based on anger or something similar. Truth is it was just fact. It takes a village to raise a child. That village without a make up artist wouldn't be able to doll me up for the pictures. Some people have gotten the mAkeup thing down pat. But even for them it's not a 5-minute thing. I've never been able to girlie-up enough to do that.

But why should I be upset with the one who does? Or with the guy who likes the dolled up doll? That I'm still unsure about. 

The price of growth

Like a kid morphing into an adult you will outgrow many people. It isn't that the kid's clothes are of poor quality or wouldn't serve a kid's needs. They just aren't needed any more.

Like feet moving through different stages of life, people will outgrow you. Good shoes are good shoes. A good shoemaker will always make make good shoes. But have you tried to force fit an adult size 10 foot into a kid size 5 oxfords? Outgrown right?

Moving on isn't always up. Or right. Or a beautiful dirge lamenting the loss. Sometimes it's a quick sidestep out of the marching band. Or a trip down the stairs and realizing you missed the turn others took but don't feel the pull to call out to them to stop. Man down? Nah, you'll be alright

Don't pull on the scab for too long. You'll miss the lessons from breaking out of this new cocoon and not realize a new you has emerged: stronger already for having clawed your way beak-first out of a hard unyielding shell. Lean into the pain from your exercise. Deep breath deep breath..... now let's go forge new alliances and leave our footprints on the moon😉

On friendships lost

Naked with you
Dreams revealed
Highs shared
Lows......need we go there?


The unburdening.... My fears you know. My insecurities you shared. My flaws you saw. My mask never in place with you. My inner child you nurtured. My budding adult you watched with deep fascination. My aging heart you watched with deep sorrow

The hereafter.....unfolding in the now
My confusion you know. My insecurities you know. My flaws you see. My disintegration you began. My grief you nurture. My mask you replaced.

I look wildly around. Half-hoping, half-dreading. Will you be there. To welcome and yet to reject. A reminder that in their swirl my emotions welcomed and yet rejected? A brooding unyielding reminder that nakedness is vulnerability. If I seek you will you let me find you?
If I call will you still know my voice?

Mental reprogramming

It will all work out or it will all collapse like a wrongly stacked deck of cards. It all depends on whom you're listening to and what you're providing growth nutrients for in that wonderful garden called your mind

From prosperity preachers and teachers to doomsday prophets and the numerous others on the belief number line, the one thing that really is the variable within your control is you

Months ago a friend and mentor introduced me to the legendary Anthony Robbins who himself learned from the late master of self belief Jim Rohn. And then there's Les Brown. Let's stop the list here.

You see, everyday something will happen to trip you up. You'll see it coming or you won't. It will manifest fully that day or just plant seeds and lay in wait further down your week or month. And if you think ideas don't run through your head all willy-nilly, do a mental exercise. Write down every thought you experience at 30 minute intervals. Been there. Done that. Sanity is a gift. Or a burden. It depends on which of your voices is strongest.

So what to do? Mental programming.  Always. Not the happy babble of just any motivational speaker who hasn't really known adversity. Or the mindless drip drip from a pastor who doesn't really understand the power of his calling beyond being an entertainer.

A friend told me once when I was going through the doldrums that I choose music which plays into how I feel. I fought that because o was in a bad place and his words didn't help the self pity I had moved into and furnished with top quality furniture. But I've since come to realize that it's true.

Just as success loves speed, so does misery love company. Think about it. You're hurting emotionally. It's music about hurting, endless glasses for alcohol takers, misery phone calls especially with those who have shared self pitying moments with you and so on. That is always a choice. Just an example

So. Mental programming. Mornings I listen to a YouTube recording from one of these mentors. I read something from the Bible that puts me in a go-forth-and-kickass mode. And lately, I guard my thoughts at work with amazing jealousy and increasing self control.

I can't stop the prosperity preacher or the doomsday prophet. I can't stop the friend or colleague or family member who chooses to only listen to and replay stuff that never ever adds anything to me. But I can change the parts of me that provide nutrients for the wrong things to grow. I remain the only variable which I can change. And so I continue. Mental reprogramming 

my good deeds Vs your bad

Why do we do these things that we do knowing full well what we do when we do the things we do? Sorry its ass-ery on a roll this morning.

So I'm listening to colleagues and friends day in day out (hate that phrase...why am I using it? Do I need a shrink?) And a common thread in conversations has been the 'et tu Brute' emotion or some variation.

Here's how it typically plays out: some long-suffering saint (me or one of the aforementioned good people of God) brings up a story, a situation, an experience in which someone dealt them a harsh blow. It would begin with a story of how much said saint, let’s call them Holy Nweje, has done for said ingrate; Lucifer, shall we? And how Lucifer becomes a turncoat and does the unthinkable namely try to lead a mutiny on The Paradise ship of heaven, and Baba God, here represented by Holy Nweje then has to cast him out into the 'wherever the hell it is you're off to' for biting the proverbial finger.

Ok ‘nuff of the crazy speak. But that's kind of how it plays out and we all know this. We all play the aggrieved party when people whom we believe owe us mental blood allegiances seem to renege on agreements never quite articulated; relatives financially dependent on the crumbs that fall from the table of our budgets, in-laws whom we 'spoil' with little gifts and uncomfortable calls and the occasional monetary gift, drivers, maids, cleaners, kids tutors etc. etc....your list may be longer because it's just about any and every one whom we have given comfort of some kind to.

So the conversation starts with the Holy Nweje listing the innumerable good deeds done for or to the cunning never-again-to-be-trusted Lucifer. It then segues into a declaration of HN's desire to never stop being a saint even if some form of martyrdom is required. And then the axe falls when the audience is listening with rapt attention found in mobs, religious congregations, people about to be separated from their money by a savvy trickster, and persons hanging on to the every word of an accomplished gossip, a practiced charmer or in this case Holy Nweje who possesses albeit unknowingly traits of all these 'professions'. At this point empathy is outta the window and sympathy sitting on a firm foundation of rage or disgust at the of course absent Lucifer, peaks in an admirable crescendo of slow judgment. Questions asked and opinions proffered all support the notion that HN is good and Lucifer is bad and has to leave heaven.

I once was cast in the ignominious role of Lucifer (Father Lord, financially let me never go there…..shuddering as the memories cause me to blink). I have been HN. I have been the sole audience. I have been in the larger audience. And I have grown enough to wonder 'why do I have to keep record of the wrongs if I really meant well and why in the world would I keep records of my good deeds only to hold them as a standard against a person whose need probably trumped their judgment?' Doesn't seem to make much logical sense does it?

...my smile

I need to smile more often
         for my smile covers up my trepidation
         makes the tears resting gingerly on the ledge of my lower eyelids glisten as they ever so gently brim over and eventually come crashing down my cheeks in one silent wave.
        
my smile covers up many things
         the way my heart starts to pulsate to the beat of a thousand drums when I feel cornered. the way my brow draws tight in uncertainty and realization that once again I've paid the piper for a tune for a fool and danced with total abandon at his music. the frustration when I realize that in spite of my efforts this thing or that is headed for a cliff and I cant stop it.

my smile is a cocoon
         it puts everything in a time warp so I get the chance to hold still and try and make sense out of stuff which threaten to overwhelm me.
         it welcomes me in a warm teary embrace when I turn back to self, crawling on bruised knees, pride shattered and emotions in tatters
         if I stand perfectly still I can see my smile in my mind's eye. and my unending wonder at the world in all it's ups and downs and roundabouts and topsy-turvy rides.

         I smile because I can. Because to stop the smile would cause a crack. the crack would let the joy out and the darkness which always casts furtive glances my way like an illicit lover would slink along the edges of my subconscious thought and grip my brain by the roots. the darkness would steal my peace, my joy. all would come crashing down. Depressed, angry, bitter, weakened......I would cease to be creative. I would cease to smile. my lips would part in a grimace; like the snarl of a cornered dog. My tears would hold no innocence no wonder at friendships genuinely given and shock at pain deliberately caused. Steely and cutting, my laugh would be. I would hurt when hurt, hurt when unsure, hurt when loved, hurt when appreciated, hurt when attacked.

my smile holds me up
         reminding me to never let the stream run dry. to always laugh a little, and then a lot. to know well the wrongs I've done or endured and to strive to be better than those. reminding me that the light in me can overshadow the darkness. reminding me that I can heal my hurts if I hold still long enough for the smile to spread its warmth.

so I tilt my head to the side. I shut my eyes. I play a song I like. or I go for a run to get the frustration out and with each kilometer my pounding heart beats the darkness out with fists of fury and my smile...lying on the cold floor of the dark, wet room, takes tentative steps and then starts to run.

I love my smile. it is welcoming when it is real. it is blinding when it is needed. it is my badge of courage.

....mental

A friend told me he learned to compartmentalize and perfected mental speed-searching because he needed to. That's me paraphrasing. But you should get the gist. 

 

You learn as you grow older that this is a necessary skill to have. 

You choose what has the power, if any, to shake you.

 

You screen your emotions and learn to be joyful when you're grieving, upbeat when you're depressed, friendly when beneath the surface you're seething with anger, pleasant when the sarcasm is simmering underneath and like a pressure pot something just wants to let loose, calm when your emotions are a riot, respectful when you really just want to tell the other person just how much of an ass you think they are and politely tell them to ‘with due respect’ stop being a jerk-off.

 

Duplicitous? I think not.

 

 

For every reaction or action is just a notch on a number line of emotions or actions. So you learn to choose your battles. You learn to live in a manner that doesn't leave too many unanswered questions in your head. You learn to give yourself permission to be more than the sum of your emotions and fears. You learn to exhale

I am Woman

I am woman

In the loins of man first carried around a testimony to the humour of the Creator

In the womb of woman nurtured and borne to be born in agony, expelled from a womb with a painful tear.

In me you find your joys, your fears. For of me you were born.
To be lover and child.
To be mother and friend.
To break your heart and to restore your hope

I am strong for so I was created.
I am strong for my journey has made me so.

My mistakes....here an ode to the audacity of youth, there a testament to the results of a heart unguarded and a will untrained.

My victories..purposefully wrought or unthinkingly achieved.

Here I am. Woman. Loved. Used. Celebrated. Vilified. Adored. Disdained.

Your orgasms celebrate and disparage me. Think beyond sex manchild. For the spillage of your mind are the orgasms here

I am woman. Tentative. Resolute. Beguiling. Hurtful. Timid. Arrogant. Needy. Confident.

I am she whom you left to be with another. Whom you chose at the expense of another. Whose emotions nurtured you on your search for another.
In me is your fulfillment and your derailment.

I am woman.

(more tentative writings on www.true9jawoman.blogspot.com)

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