Struggles.

Since I’ve made this blog, I’ve struggled with whether or not to use it like a BLOG or a JOURNAL.  I’ve tried to integrate both into it but I do believe I’ve failed miserably.  I rarely if ever include anything obviously personal but all the entries originate from my personal life.  Know that.

I’m going to Ohio tomorrow.  My niece is graduating in a few days & I absolutely must be there.  I also miss “home” and family.  It’ll be good to see them.  I hate leaving my real home though.

When I struggle with decisions I settle them by doing one thing.  Finding peace.  If I dont have peace with a choice, I choose otherwise.  Simple.

Top two annoyances.

You may call them peeves. Whatever terminology you use, you get my drift.

Those that use their romantic criteria to be insulting.

This irritates me to no end. Ugly has no real definition, it is defined as “displeasing to the senses”. Just because it assaults your senses, doesn’t mean it has the same affect on everyone. There isn’t one person on the face of this planet that is ugly to every other person on the face of this planet. Just because someone isn’t what you’re attracted to isn’t an excuse to insult them.

Poor grammar and spelling online.

There is no excuse for choosing to remain simple minded. Even if you’re not formally educated, you do not have to present yourself as an idiot. Online the only way people have to interact with you is through written word. Why not have more pride and take care of how you’re presenting you to others? Spell check is free and offered on almost every browser. Take the extra moment. You take extra care when you’re stepping out the house; showering, dressing, accessories and women with the makeup, jewelry – why not care just as much about yourself all around?

Fresh out.

What happens when you feel that you’ve said all there is to say, heard everything your partner has to say, & everyday conversation feels like a real strain? Are you bored now? Do you retreat into a world of self and just count the days down until you’re so bored & unfulfilled that you walk?

That’s exactly what I absolutely refuse to happen in my relationship. I may get annoyed, bored occasionally and even strained but if it’s worth fighting for – you’ll do what it takes.

What happens when you’ve decided that it’s not worth the extra effort though? *gulp*

Random thoughts – literally.

In a relationship how much compromise is enough?

Why does God feel so far away sometimes?

Why do drunk people talk so much yet have nothing to say when sober?

Why do friends push you away when you need them most?

Why does the one body part that your life’s desire hinges on fail you? Ex: A dancer gets a leg tumor.

Why does the one thing you want to achieve in life constantly evade you?

Do you ever think – Wow, I’m really an adult? How did I get here?

Why do we always want what we don’t have and refuse to appreciate what we were blessed with?

hypochondriac

I did take the liberty of looking up this word simply to give you the real definition, obviously I had to define the root word.

hy·po·chon·dri·a:
an excessive preoccupation with one’s health, usually focusing on some particular symptom, as cardiac or gastric problems.

With that said, I think I am a hypochondriac or at least have the potential. Let me tell you a story that happened yesterday and you be the judge.

I’m sitting in my favorite chair, relaxing, watching television and typically touching myself. It’s a bad habit to touch and rub my face while I’m relaxing. At the base of my ear I felt a knot. I’m like OMIGAWD its CANCER! So I jump up & run to the restroom to check it out in the mirror. It looks like an almost dried out pimple but I can feel a knot under my skin. I run to Alon and in my most whiney yet panicked voice say “I HAVE A KNOT ON MY EAR. I HAVE CANCER. LOOK AT ITTTTTTTTTT!” She takes a glance then stops what she’s doing completely and checks it out. She gives it a pinch and says “It was just a white head Melinda“. I touch it – knot is gone.

It’s official. I’m the old, crazy, hypochondriac lady.

Big Mama

How often is it that I find inspiration to blog twice in a day?  My inspiration for this comes from my mid-afternoon movie.  Soul Food.  I rarely if ever watch this movie because it is beyond depressing for me.  It’s almost identical to how my Grandmother passed and it saddens me for more than one reason but let’s start at the beginning…

Big Mama was my father’s mother.  Now that I think about it, she wasn’t really all that big, especially not by today’s standards.  She stood five foot four inches and weighed 220 solid pounds.  When I say solid, that’s exactly what I mean – no rolls, wiggle or jiggle on that body.  She was firm but loving.  She rarely if ever whipped my sister and I but when she did, we both got it.  It was never anything significant though, a few taps and a lot of mouth.  She showed love with food mostly.  That was her specialty – cooking.  I’ve never met another who could even compare.  Matter of fact, I’ve not eaten a slice of carrot cake or a decently fried chicken wing since 1989 – the year she passed.

She was a good grandmother.  She spent a lot of time with my sister and I.  It got a little tougher once my father married a woman with three kids.  She tried to be fair but there was no mistaking who her babies were.  We were with Big Mama quite a bit on the weekends and summer vacations from school.  I even lived with her briefly once, as did my sister.  I loved being there.  Good food, lots of attention – not so many hugs and kisses though.  Oddly, I never seemed to miss the lack of kisses and hugs from her.  She obviously made up for it in a lot of other ways.

Walking in her front door you could smell the food even if she wasn’t cooking.  Baths in Calgon bath beads, Dreft and Mr. Bubbles was always the first order of business.  That was followed with a thorough rub down with lotion and baby oil – topped off with Vasoline.  We were squeaky clean at all times on her watch. My sister and I had long thick hair and occasionally it proved too much for her.  She’d take us to the beautician and have it done in Shirley Temple curls and she’d get her famous finger waves.  I can’t remember a time she got her hair done and didn’t come and get us to join her.

Sunday mornings were always GREAT.  Waking up to breakfast and dinner smells, gospel music playing loudly and a ready bath.  I’d eat breakfast, bathe and start getting ready for church while she finished preparing what was to be for dinner after church clad in her half slip, knee his and bra.

Once I started getting older, I didn’t spend as much time with her.  I thought I was grown and was too busy chasing boys to be stuck up in the house with Grandma – we were now permitted to call her Grandma.  Previously she was too young to be called that, lol.  Grandma didn’t complain much about my lack of time, she just kind of rolled with the punches.  She always let her presence be known when necessary though.

That summer I was turning 16.  I couldn’t wait to be 16.  It was the worst summer of my life.

4 days before my sweet 16 my brother was gunned down in the street – murdered.  His funeral was the day after my birthday.  He was only 17 himself.  I won’t get into much detail about him in this post but the pain from losing him numbed me for months.  I felt as though I were in a dream world – totally numb from reality.  That next month was August and it claimed my Big Mama’s life.  She had a stroke, was in a coma for a few days and  then passed away on the 13th.  I was still so numb from my brother that I only went through the proper motions – I couldn’t feel the pain of losing her; not really.  It wasn’t until that next year I was really able to grieve for my Big Mama.  I always felt guilty for that.  Yes sure, she understands but I couldn’t feel the immediate sting of losing the only grandmother I ever had.  The one constant female figure in my life was gone and I couldn’t feel it.

I’m sorry Grandma.

This post didn’t contain everything I felt inside.  I just couldn’t stop the flow of tears to verbalize the emotions.  I’m sure you’ll hear more about Big Mama again and again though.  She was the greatest grandmother in the world.

Sexual revolution of Meli

Is it taboo?

I was silently taught early on that masturbation was nasty.  Only bad girls did that and it was unacceptable.  As children we all are curious and especially about our bodies.  Even with siblings of the opposite sex, I was never really sure what all the differences were.  I did however know the basics of (heterosexual) sex but it wasn’t enough to satisfy my curiosity.  I’m not sure what, if anything, perked my interest/curiosity in sex but it was prominent around 10 years of age.  I wasn’t sure why but I knew I wanted to kiss.  Why did I want to kiss that girl though?

At one time I was almost totally consumed with thoughts of sex.  As an adult, I know that my puberty could have been a much smoother transition if the adults in my life would have been more open about the taboo topic of sex.  My only outlet was self examination and I related to myself as often as I could.  Believe me, it wasn’t that often considering I was one of four (sometimes five) children in my home.  I shared a room with my sister until I was 12 and even a bed until I was 9.  My relations were limited to bath-time only.  I wasn’t sure what I was looking for exactly but I knew it had to something explosive!  Needless to say, I never found the fireworks I was looking for – not then.

My first sexual experience was void of fireworks also.  I silently accepted that sex just wasn’t what it was cracked up to be.  I was 14 at the time.  It wasn’t until a few years later that I was introduced to oral sex and the experience still left me feeling jilted.  I again silently shrugged and just accepted.  I was 17 at the time.

I experienced an orgasm at 18.  I thought I had finally found it the explosion I had been in search of since I was 10 years old!!  When the feeling passed after a few seconds, I was disappointed.  I then mastered the skill of masturbation.  I could have this feeling anytime with nothing but my hand?  There were days I could barely make it until the final bell of high school – running home to masturbate.  I wanted to live forever in that moment of orgasm because I felt empty after it passed.  I thought my life would somehow be different after such an experience.  There surely had to be some lasting affects.  I was supposed to be satisfied now, right?  Wrong.  I still felt empty; full of longing.  Something was still missing.

When I married while in my twenties, I was accustomed to sex not being all that.  It was just a physical expression of an emotion felt; no passion or anything  like I’d seen on television, movies, etc.  So, the fact that my married sex life left a lot to be desired was of no real consequence to me.  It was just an act.  A little cunnilingus, penetration – the end.  I watched talk shows and read books on how to keep my married sex life spicy and I tried.  I tried to duplicate the passion I seen acted out on television – it was like being in a play.  I felt so passionless.  I just accepted that this is the way it was to be sexually.  There’s nothing more to it.  Whatever that hole was, it was just something “wrong” with me and I ignored it.

I had thoughts of kissing and touching other women from very early on.  I ignored those thoughts because I knew it wasn’t “normal”.  Something was wrong with that.  I was supposed to have a boyfriend.  I heard the adults talk about a close family member frequently; he was a faggot – or so they said.  That meant he liked other boys.  They kicked him out of the house and our lives for that.  It had to be something very wrong with it, right?  But my thoughts of other women persisted and was a constant through the years.  They always turned me on and so those were the thoughts I dwelt on while having sex in order to stay interested and not just lay there and roll my eyes in the dark.

Once my marriage ended I finally decided to act on my thoughts.  I was just looking for one girl to experiment with – cure my illness.  Once I do that, no more thoughts.

I found her.  Met her on a chatline, talked for weeks before meeting.  We set up a date and I told her that when the evening ended, I’d be going home with her for the night.  We both knew what that meant.  I actually followed through but I must admit the drinks gave me a little courage to do that.

The next morning I awoke and I knew.  This was it.  This was the hole I had been trying to fill my entire life.  I will admit the sex wasn’t that grand but I knew that this was what I had been looking for.  This connection, this touch, this passion.  What was supposed to be one night turned into 18 months of a relationship.  My divorce finalized during this relationship and once that relationship ended, my lifestyle, my identity stayed with me.  I was free and there was no turning back.  That was 10 years ago.

I am a Lesbian.

Coming out of the closet or whatever was nothing to me.  I know that I’m blessed though.  My family accepts and has never given me any negativity because of it.  It was just another bend in my life and they met my girlfriend(s) just as they met my previous boyfriends.  It’s nothing to them.  No shock.  Nothing.  My (married with 4 kids)  sister even began hanging out with me at the gay clubs.

Don’t get me wrong, this lifestyle isn’t void of it’s own dating and sexual ups and downs.  Some relationships are great, others not so much but I am still free.  I’m no longer searching – at least not sexually.

Self absorbed friend or narcissistic Meli?

I have a friend, which will remain nameless, that does things that are wishy washy. She just seems to eat away at my self esteem. I know, I know; self esteem is how you feel about you and no one should be able to affect it but we’re human and we all know better. In a perfect world, it would be that way but in the real world people do have the ability to cause us to doubt ourselves. There are small things she does that individually would probably not mean much but collectively, they hurt. During a conversation she doesn’t really take the time to listen. It’s obvious that she’s only listening because she’s waiting to speak. The entire time I’m speaking I can see the wheels turning and she’s so focused on verbalizing what’s in that head of hers, not on what I’m saying/sharing. No matter what I say, her response is something concerning herself. I thought I’d fix that by allowing her time to just talk about her, what’s going on in her life, etc. etc. It’s never enough. After a conversation with her, I end up feeling like a sounding board. She could have this conversation with no one and anyone. You get what I’m saying? At this point I feel as though she could replace our friendship with anyone because it’s not me that she appreciates, values or cares for. It’s having someone to sound off on about herself. I wonder if she’s aware of this and just choosing to ignore and if I make her aware will she be capable of changing? It’s becoming a strain to continue a real friendship with her. I find myself avoiding her more often.

Or am I just a narcissist?

Of course I’d like to think not. I enjoy hearing about friends’ lives and sharing but I also enjoy a give and take. One of the privileges of having a friendship is being able to share of yourself also – your real self.
I am very aware of the fact that I demand a lot of attention from my friends. I am not clingy but I am so choosy when it comes to friends, I love interacting with the few that I have anytime, all the time. I know and accept that we all have lives but when/if they need me, my ear or my heart; I’m there without hesitation or doubt. I’d love it if I could count on them the same. Not all of my friends are self absorbed, some are just busy with work and life.

Does it hurt when you consider someone a good or a best friend and they constantly mention others (never you) as their best friend? I can’t lie – it hurts me a little. It’s not debilitating but it does rub a raw emotion. Am I jealous? No but I’d love to be considered a best friend in an equal friendship one day. I always thought it was something really wrong with me because I’ve not made and maintained an intimate, lasting friendship over the years in my life. Maybe there is, maybe there isn’t but I can say that I’ve learned a lot. Every person and situation has taught me lessons. Most faded away after I received my lesson, few stayed but the most important thing is that I learned my lessons. I think the hardest lessons to learn were those that had self revelations. To see yourself clearly – ouch. I’m stronger for it though and so I am thankful.

Invest your time in something that matters – you.

Don’t let anyone steal your spirit of beauty.

Purely Random.

I said that I wouldn’t post until I had something of substance to post about but what the hell? Today was a decent day. Slept good last night, woke up healthy & in good spirits. I straightened up, took a nice hot shower & then…the shower head broke off & I damn near drowned, lol. My hair was drenched & those facts dictated the look you see. I’ve always enjoyed my curls they’re just better trained now, longer and I enjoy them even more.

I did go the extra mile today & dressed my face. In the picture only my face is dressed. Not my body; nor was my hair complete. The complete look was polished & I must say; I was feeling myself today. When I went shopping today I didn’t bother with mere walking, I sauntered through the store. It’s something about looking good that gives my fragile self esteem the boost it needs. Seems like I should have picked up on that years ago and always went the extra mile. Somewhere along the way I learned that I was not worthy of the extra because I was going to be “ugly” anyway; why try? There was nothing more harmful that I could have believed and now at damn near 35 I still wrestle with self esteem issues. I admire those that rock that fine line between confidence and arrogance.

Tomorrow is Mother’s Day and I am 600+ miles away from mine. It makes me sad but I know that we’re always together. My mother and I haven’t always seen eye to eye. For the better part of my life I didn’t live with her; my father raised me. I went back to Mom when I was 2 months shy of 18 and that made it hard for me to see her as an authority figure; I seen her more as a friend and during my late teens/early 20s, we argued an awful lot. I grew up though. Honestly, my Mom was always my best friend. She is probably the only human alive that knows all my secrets. She is my diary. I love my mom for always being her no matter what crummy hand life dealt her.

Mother’s day makes me think about all the babies I miscarried. It will depress me if I allow it. It also makes me think of my Boohead. (for those that don’t know; she’s my ex’s daughter that I raised for five years) I miss her so much and most of all I miss being her mother. I was so angry at Tracy for so long for not allowing me to see her but I’ve forgiven and moved past it. I’ll love her always and she’ll always be welcome in my life. When she gets old enough and comes for me, I’ll be there. My nieces and nephews are almost all grown up now. One just turned 18 a few weeks ago & another will be 17 soon with a baby on the way.

The only constant in life is change. I’ve learned to embrace it.