Quixotic

It's Christmas Eve, my adult children are here. I am blessed. I have overcome so much in 2018. My long embattled case against the state settled. I prayed Psalm 23 almost every day to cope with the amount of stress and harassment that goes with a workers comp case. I found strength in Joel Osteen emails and letters from his ministry. I have managed depression and found that the more I am grateful the more hope I found in trying again--starting over right where I am. The greatest lesson of 2018 is being able to start over again, with the odds against me, counted out, and looked over. I still feel encouraged to keep going. I still struggle with holding on to relationships that are toxic in many ways, my relationship with Leah has gone south, north, east, and west. Yet, I sit here and tell myself I cannot walk away. I can't start over again. Why do I hold on when I know it's not bringing me the happiness and joy I deserve? Then I think about a word that means so much to me; onc...

the icy lies rolling off tongues belonged to women who licked my clit leaving me in destroyed orgasms 18 years old a fine young stud easily lead to the house made of candy  Hansel and Gretel  I escaped the fire through the labyrinth of my mind  I hit 30 years old like a meteor You get what you give to me I am the eclipse both light and dark Now at 42 years old I will never love anyone more than I love myself  I will never respect anyone more than I respect myself  And now the house built of candy is mine And my tongue will freeze your soul I am complete~

I grew up in the Huntersville section of Norfolk, VA, otherwise known as the hood. My mom worked all the time, so I was responsible for my 3 siblings. I helped with homework, told them to cleanup, and was generally the boss of them as the 2nd oldest of 5 children. I would love being the boss later in life, ha! My sisters and my brother loved and respected me and my living sisters still look up to me. I just noticed I was so different from my siblings. I couldn't tolerate weed, while they were experimenting as teens. I would end up thinking I was dying and call my mom at work--so lame! They made a lot of friends in the neighborhood, I was scared to go outside bc at night we would hear rounds of gunfire. I decided I would rather stay in talk on the phone, watch Sanford and Son, and end up having 2 babies by the time I was 19, but I was not excited about "the dick" as my sisters would rant and rave about. I was busy crushing on Queen Latifah on "Living Single". A...

August 12th, 2013, I started as a Business Intelligence Analyst for a large university. It was the  job I prayed for. It was the job that blessed my family financially. It was the promotion I was proud to share with my mom, my friends, and my colleagues. My new job would require relocation to a large city and the excitement I felt was like hitting the job lottery. With my whole heart, I packed my house, hired movers, and awaited my new beginning. I found an amazing apartment, a palatial 2 bedroom 2 bath, with 9ft vaulted ceilings, garden tub, fireplace, and bar sitting area. It was the apartment I dreamed of and would be very proud to host gatherings and holidays. I remember walking out onto the balcony of that apartment after everything was moved in and feeling blessed, worthy, and that finally all my hard-work, faith, and perseverance brought me to that moment. It was a powerful feeling and I cherished the opportunity to be promoted, provide for my family, and enhance my s...

Lately, I have had some stress, a few setbacks, things I have been disappointed about. My adult children are doing well and moving forward--and I will never take that for granted. I also have felt a little down--well down right depressed. I have struggled with clinical depression for many years. I manage to find my way out of the funk--most times. However, I find myself less and less trying to mask how I feel. That wasn't healthy anyway. I talk to my counselor. I take my meds. I try to stay balanced. I just feel like before my accident in 2013-I was living up to my expectations of myself. Now, I'm feeling like I have struck out--no pun on baseball--which I find boring. I'm thinking and thinking about what I want out of my life. What can I do with all this chronic back pain and such? I don't complain. I don't feel sorry for myself. I just don't have any motivation to try again. And that's the funk--the funk of being unmotivated. So how can I get my fire b...

So I have been attending AA meetings online since February. I have found a nice group of people to connect with. During the online meetings we share our experiences with alcohol and our hope for recovery. I have grown to love and look forward to connecting with people who have so much in common. Alcoholism has no boundaries of race, gender, sexual orientation, or religious background. I found that being apart of that group encourages me to drink less, pray about my problems, and approach alcohol with an entirely different attitude. So, recently, I started to have private messages with Nancy from the AA online group. We click, we share that we are both in the LGBTQIA community, have children, and enjoy writing. We share a few messages and a couple emails. I like talking to Nancy and we are becoming fast friend (do people really say that)? Anyway, during a private conversation I confide in Nancy, because I trust her, yes not far from being a total stranger I trust her. I tell h...

In 1997, my 19-year-old brother Joel Joash was murdered in Virginia. This event would turn my family upside down and cause a lifelong battle with grief and heartache. The night he died is etched into the fabric of who I am today. Meaning, that event forever altered who I am in this lifetime. My brother was selling drugs.  My  mother—with all her best efforts couldn’t get him to stop selling drugs. The night he died, he had a confrontation with another drug dealer that would lead to his shooting death. I don’t want to re-live the facts as they are from that night. They cause too much trauma. I want to focus on how I have made it through the pain all these years later. I was 21 when he died, old enough to understand how the justice system failed us, how my brothers unlawful behavior contributed to his own death.   In the beginning of the grief process, all I could do was cry, probably through the first year after. I couldn’t talk about what happened to him, I couldn’t l...