Honesty is ugly sometimes

Sitting at the table in the living room typing this post and watching Black Girls Rock on BET…this is hard y’all. Intensely sensitive but this is what’s on my heart today so I’m being honest about the ugly in my life.

We live in the same house. We eat the same food and love the same child. We never talk though. I mean, outside of what has to be said about my son and their daily needs. No, this is not a post about my partner and I. This one is about my mother and I. Things have not always been this way. I remember being in high school, getting in the car and talking a mile a minute about what happened at school that day. When I no longer lived at home we’d talk every single day. We used to be so close and then. I don’t know what happened. I would call but she’d only call me if she needed a ride to work or some money, or to run some errands. It didn’t take long for resentment to set in but I’d still do whatever she needed. Then, I got pregnant and she’d call all the time. I didn’t want to talk anymore. I tried to be sure and involve her in some of the fun stuff. I took her with me to do one of my registries and to do a little shopping for the baby. I hoped it’d break the ice and get us talking again. It didn’t. It was almost like being a cousin I’ve never met or that I’ve seen only once or twice.

This is hard. And to be honest I haven’t talked with my mom about it. I don’t want to. I feel like I’ve been robbed of a relationship with my mother. And to add to that my dad too. See, I’ve been spending months and countless hours researching my family history. I know my 3rd generation grandfather and his wife Anna Norrington lived in Morgan county Georgia. His name was Felix Norrington. Felix was a boot and shoe maker and could not read or write. I love my family. I want to know them all by name. Sounds like a contradiction. I want to know my family history but am not willing to work on relationships with the family that here with me, literally.

Thanks for reading.

I am that chic . . . or not!?

Every now and then something happens that forces me to sit down and evaluate or re-evaluate a particular area of my life.  That happened twice this weekend.

Confession: I am a love junkie and in the words of Andre 3000, “[I] could be an organ donor the way I give up my heart.”  There are 2 men I’ve dated and loved fiercely in my adult life, David and Nathan (No, those are not their real names). At some point, marriage was a topic with them both; however, I knew I’d never marry Nathan.  A few years ago I watched David get married. The wedding came long after our break-up, my healing and right at the start of a new romance of my own. So, don’t think I was jealous 🙂 I was actually there to be the bride’s personal photographer. It was a beautiful wedding!

Recently Nathan stopped by to tell me he, too, will be getting married. I congratulated him as well and I am sincerely excited for him and his wife-to-be. But, yesterday it hit me . . . the last 2 men I’ve loved have moved on to marry other women and I had that awful thought… Am I that woman people write about?! Do I give too much or not enough? Am I too easy going or maybe too harsh? Needy? Excessively independent? What could possibly be wrong with me that no one has put a ring on it?! I mean, am I doomed to love a man only to lose him and watch him marry the next woman he dates?! This is for the birds!! Of course, human relationships are difficult to navigate and there are numerous factors that I won’t discuss here. I will share this though, I was ready when Nathan wasn’t and by the time he was ready, I couldn’t. So, maybe this boils down to readiness and it’s not a testament of my marriage worthiness. And, yes, I am the lover, nurturer, supporter you want in your corner.

The thing I love about writing is that it forces me to face myself, my contradictions and to think more deeply about things. Ladies, often times we ascribe value to ourselves according to our experiences with men. Take my ramblings above for example. No one has asked my hand in marriage, so I couldn’t be marriage material. But, what I’ve learned and what we all must learn is, sometimes the men we’re involved with ain’t marriage material—not to say David and Nathan weren’t. And, even if they asked our hand in marriage, it would be in our best interest to decline the proposal. By listening to pop culture, friends, parents and even our elders we become obsessed with proving we are worthy of marriage. But, if the man you’re involved with isn’t trying to prove to you he’s marriage material and if marriage is your goal, pack your bags and move on! You are that chic, but just maybe not for that man.