This blog originally started as a place to “deposit” my thoughts. As time went on, I realized writing my thoughts wasn’t the hard part, but I was too private a person to share most of them. As more time went on, even getting the thoughts out became hard; not because I didn’t know what to say when I sat down to write, but because I didn’t like what I had to say. Anyway.. I have a few thoughts. Continue reading
I was about 200 words into this post when I stopped & came back up here to insert this disclaimer: There is no point to this, I’m just getting words out. Carry on.
I haven’t touched this blog in so long.
I haven’t written in so long.
I haven’t let myself write in so long.
The last few times I wrote, I wrote in my journal because I had no intention of sharing that with the world anytime soon. But if I’m being honest, I’ve stopped doing even that. If you’ve read this blog for any length of time, you probably know I hate writing. That’s not an exaggeration, I really do hate it. I don’t enjoy the process & all the vulnerability it requires of me. I don’t enjoy confronting things–things I’m already aware of, yet choose to live like they’re not real. I don’t enjoy figuring out exactly why I feel a certain way about something. I’ve always hated it, and yet, I did it. Because sometimes it was necessary. Because sometimes, the after effects were cathartic. I did it, until I stopped.
I’ve needed to write for almost a year now, and I refuse to. Even now, typing these words in bed while I eat Oreos I will hate myself for eating in the morning, I’m not sure what to say.
COVID-19 is really doing a number on the planet. I’m scared for what the world will look like 6 months from now, not because I expect the death toll to be some ridiculous number, but because I feel like we’re in the middle of some life-changing, forever-altering event. So far, I haven’t had any loved one fall sick (or worse), and dear God I’m praying it stays that way. I was talking to dad over the weekend and saying how I hate that I’m complaining about how being at home due to COVID is making me feel, because I know people worried about their jobs (I’m not), I know people forced to take pay cuts (I won’t be), and I know people who still have to go into work every day (I don’t). It feels like people have real worries, and me saying I hate being forced to stay home feels kinda silly.
COVID-19 is really doing a number on me. It’s hard to explain to people, because they almost all go “well you weren’t really the type to go out much before this anyway, so everything now is basically normal for you” & I don’t know how to explain that this is different. At least before all this I could look forward to leaving the house 5 days a week to head to the office; I don’t even have that anymore. And beyond that, it’s different. It just is. I don’t like spending this much free time at home, and as soon as we’re able to freely go outside again, I will cherish it more.
I need to build healthy relationships, and I need new friends. Good friends. Actual friends. Quite a few of them. Hopefully, some of them in Atlanta too.
Nugs told me something a few years ago that I’ve since called The Maze Theory. The idea is, just like a mouse in a maze just keeps moving and if it meets a dead end, it turns and tries another direction, until it makes it out of the maze through sheer persistence, there’s this faith that even when we’re not sure what God wants from us, we just keep moving and trusting that if we’re headed in the wrong direction, much like a mouse in a maze, we’ll meet a dead end that will leave us with no choice but to turn back and try a different path. It’s a very inefficient way of following God’s plan (and really, I wouldn’t recommend this be a system you adhere to for the rest of your life), but it makes sense. And when I’m trying to do something & I find myself failing repeatedly in a frustrating manner, I hold on to the belief that it wasn’t the right path for this mouse to take in the maze.
I’m a big believer in things happening when they’re supposed to. I do not say this to encourage passiveness, but I’ve found that things happen in their season, and if it’s not time, you cannot force it to happen, try as you may. It’s another thing I hold on to, when I feel like I’m toiling to no avail.
I need new friends around me. I need my people.
Monday morning. 1:41am. I can’t sleep, and so I find myself writing another “letter” you will never get to read.
The nerve of you.
It’s been almost 3 days since we last spoke. I still can’t believe it myself. This has to be the stupidest thing ever. But I’m not going to call you. I’m 100% convinced that I’m not calling you. And right now, I’m not sure I’ll even pick up if you call.
The nerve of you.
We used to say we’d never go to sleep mad at each other. And for months we did just that. I hated how frequently it seemed we were arguing & fighting over nothing. It bothered me, but I’d just say we were “working out the kinks” and getting to know each other better, so it wouldn’t always be that way. I hated fighting, but at least we never went to sleep upset. We always managed to talk things out & be at peace with one another before falling asleep, no matter how late it was… Until the first time it happened. Neither of us was willing to put pride aside & call the other, and so we went to sleep & didn’t talk things out until the next day. After that it got easier to go to bed angry & not speaking to each other. And easier. And easier…
…and now it’s been 3 days.
The nerve of you.
As usual, you’re upset over nothing. As usual. I don’t understand it. I’m not the enemy. I’ve never been. And I’ve fought my hardest to show you that. But you’re always so… Hostile. So guarded. So ready for a fight. So ready to walk away.
The nerve of you.
Whatever scars you have… Whatever wounds are still healing… Whatever fears you have… Whatever doubts you still harbor… I get it. But I refuse to be treated like I’m responsible for them any longer. This… This is not how you love someone. This is not how you treat someone you love. And THIS is why I kept telling you I can have no faith in a “love” based on feelings.
Sometimes, I wish I didn’t know certain things so I could act a certain way & get away with it. So my spirit wouldn’t be uneasy. Because it sucks more when you do the right thing & it still isn’t enough.
Yeah I think that’s it. Right now, I’m not enough for you. And that is literally the worst realization I could have come to. Because now it means I have to hide from you. I have to.
Because I’ve tried. I have tried. I haven’t given as much as I wanted, because that would only drive you further away. You. Wouldn’t. Even. Let. Me. Give. My. All. But I’ve given. I’ve been “naked.” But it’s not enough. It feels like it’s never going to be enough.
And it’s too early in this relationship for all this stress. There’s no peace anymore.
I laid my pride down for you, and it still wasn’t enough.
I bargained, I cajoled, I joked, I begged, and it still wasn’t enough.
So congratulations. You win.
I refuse to revert to being the asshole that comes so naturally to me. That’s not who I want to be. So I’m left with one option then. I’ll hide from you.
The nerve of you though…
Jan 26, 2015
It’s 12:33am. I’m listening to Joromi & Gone For Good on repeat (I know, I know, na me dey do myself sometimes), and for some reason I’m thinking about 1 Cor 13. Probably the most famous part of the Bible, right after “for God so loved the world…”
“[love] always protects. Always trusts. Always hopes. Always perseveres. Love never fails.”
Love never fails.
If it failed, it wasn’t love.
when you can’t find the words, but they’ve already been said in song.
Dear God, I’m afraid.
That’s about as honest as I can get right now.
So I didn’t forget I had a blog…
I’m gonna blame the lack of new posts on two things: Firstly, I found out about this amazing app called Day One which still allowed me the freedom to write whatever thoughts I needed to get out, and not be worried about length, how personal it was, or whether it was something to be shared or not. I still have tons of drafts that predate my discovery of Day One, but they probably may never be published. Right now, it’s just interesting to go back, re-read them, and realize where my head was at, at the time I wrote them. Secondly, there were still things I didn’t want to write about. There are still thoughts I’d rather not confront. Not just yet. So I’ve stayed away for a while.
My darling Katana,
I will not get to see or hold you for a few more years, but you’re already real to me. You’re as real to me right now as you will be when your mother puts my hand on her stomach to feel you kick for the first time. You’re as real to me right now, as you will be the first time I hear you cry. Or see you smile… Or punish you.
I haven’t told your mom why I’m calling you Katana yet. I probably won’t tell her until you’re almost here. But I have known for years that it would be your name, and I know why. As you grow, so will you.
In 130 days I’m getting married, and a friend recently asked me why I love my fiancé. I wanted to share a deeper perspective on Amanda and I’s relationship, so before I answered why I love her, I had to first explain to him the reasons I don’t love my future bride to be.
I came to two conclusions:
First is, I don’t love Amanda for what’s on the outside. I know. It sounds cheesy, it sounds sappy. This perspective is not a novel idea by any means. How many times have you heard someone say, “I don’t love you for what’s on the outside. I love you for what’s on the inside.” But that brings me to my second conclusion.
I don’t love Amanda for what’s on the inside either.
Now don’t get me wrong, there are many things on the inside and outside that I love about
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In the past week or so, a plane with hundreds of people on it has literally gone missing. 700,000 Nigerians paid ₦1000 as an “application fee” for a government job that would only hire 3000 people. Boko haram continues to terrorize northern Nigeria with relative impunity. Ukraine & Russia are on the brink of a war that should raise all sorts of WW3 red flags in your head.