At least that's what I keep telling myself. It's a reunion of sorts. Hi guy who broke my heart. How are you today? How has life been since we stopped sleeping with each other? Please keep it superficial. I don't want any indication that you've moved on...not ready for that just yet.
This meeting is for closure. Did you get that memo? This is the day where we reminisce on good times, skim over what went wrong, and talk about how we're glad that we can be friends. After all, we got to know alot about each other and it would be a shame to let that go to waste. Except that I still want to love you...
Excuse me? Oh no, I didn't mean to say that out loud. I was just thinking to myself that I don't want to be your friend because I wanted to love you. It seems impossible to look at you as a friend because wouldn't that mean that eventually we would hang out and scope singles together. You used to hold me. I can't forget that. You used to kiss me. I don't want to forget that. Maybe this was a bad idea. I'm having trouble maintaining eye contact. You said my eyes were always honest. Don't look now. They'll tell you how hard this is.
I know it's over. It's been over for a while. That's what today is about remember...sealing the ending. But why are we really here? Who won't let it go? And more importantly, why not? Oh, I bought you something for your recent accomplishment. That's right, so it's me. But you wouldn't let me give it to you when it was right in my hands three weeks ago. So it's you. I mean that means you wanted to see me again, right? Why? I think we're both as confused outside of this relationship as we were in it. I mean you canceled our reunion once and i canceled twice. (I always like to one-up people that make me feel vulnerable) I think tomorrow we'll do it...end i mean. Officially.
I agreed to this? That was a bad idea. I'm nauseous now-how am I supposed to go to work afterwards? You're a guy, you'll swallow once and reset the program. You're probably not even nervous now. Shit, why did you agree to this? I've always been a glutton for melodrama...let me find out we're more similar than i thought. Better yet, don't let me find that out. I'm working on reasons to forget about you, not give you another little piece of my heart (now baby)...
Maybe you'll cancel tomorrow. Maybe we'll get another few days to pretend whatever we're pretending until it's real. Maybe we'll be grown ups and get it over with. There's a part of me that's done enough mourning to feel like I'm ready to move on. The woman in me that can acknowledge that that which is not healthy has no place in my life. But the other part of me, the one that can only focus on getting that "old thing back"-well she understands Third Eye Blind:
"I want to get myself back in again/the soft dive of oblivion/i want to taste the salt of your skin/the soft dive of oblivion/oblivion"
Oblivion never sounded so beautiful as it does tonight. But I know I'm not a fool and we have to do this, so guy just remember to stay superficial. Do it for me.
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Monday, June 07, 2010
Linger
But I'm in so deep/You know I'm such a fool for you/You've got me wrapped around your finger/Do you have to let it linger? (Linger by The Cranberries)
I did it again. The one thing I didn't think I could. Didn't think I'd want to do. Hell, I really didn't want to and it happened anyway. I loved again.
Let me be clear. I don't really know how it happened. I dated a guy on and off, healthily and unhealthily, with labels and without them for almost 8 months. I couldn't understand why I cared about every interaction, why I missed laughing with him, why I was struggling once it was over and why the prospect of dating other men made me nauseous. And then my girlfriend said it so non chalantly, "Well, I guess it would be a lot easier to get over him if you didn't love him". I am not exaggerating when I say I cursed that woman out and laughed like a madwoman. "Love who? Him? Hell no. I don't love nobody but myself and my baby. Are you crazy? What do I have I have to love him for?" And frankly, once you start rambling and your grammar falls apart, you know you're full of it. It's over and you've lost this verbal battle.
I was a mess. I love him? I love him? I love him. How did that happen? How many times did we laugh together before it happened? How many future plans did we share before it happened? How many family history/war stories did we swap until it happened? Was it when I slept over? Was it the hugs or the kisses? Was it the fact that we had a good chance of having a dark skinned little girl with green eyes...don't ask, but scientifically it was true! And worse than this discovery, was the ugly truth staring at me mercilessly. We weren't even together anymore and the chances that HE loved ME were slim. So as if loving someone again, against your will, after being hurt on multiple occasions, was not enough; I wouldn't even be able to count on having that person love me back. Excuse me while I jump off the nearest NYC bridge. This is ri-damn-diculous.
Now if you're like me, you might also find it difficult to find the point in loving someone who can't/won't/or just don't love you back. I could lie and say that I sat with all these emotions and tried to figure out how I felt and what I could do with these feelings (positive things of course). But I love to swim in this river called DE-NIAL and instead I pretended my friend was crazy and I had sense in my head. I went out that weekend with a bunch of friends to celebrate a major accomplishment for this man, exchanged some laughs, had a few drinks (on an empty stomach) and by the end of the night, proclaimed my love for this man...to this man. Now ask me a simple question like "How did that happen?" and I'll say "Hell if I know, I don't remember". As if me falling in love was not a betrayal enough, my poor empty stomach couldn't handle my drinking and allowed the alcohol to create what I like to call "holes" in my brain. In one of those holes lies the whole conversation in which I thought it would be a good idea to let the "ex" know I loved him. I completely understand what Pink meant when she said she was a "hazard" to herself.
Long story short, he told a mutual friend about it...twice. This mutual friend attempted to clean it up by saying that I had a lot to drink and probably meant "love" like we all love our friends. Kisses and hugs to the friend who tried to clean up this disaster. I do not believe with any ounce of my being that the ex believed it though. Luckily, I could depend on one of his worst flaws to be one of my greatest saving graces right now--he hates confrontation on any issues of importance. And hell, love is pretty important. So I could depend...i could bet...on him not asking me about it directly and thus live a semi normal life thereafter.
I've seen him since then and to be honest, we're supposed to "have lunch" this week. Somehow I get the sense that a one on one lunch date versus the group at a BBQ venue (the last time i saw him) will be slightly different. I also get the sense that I will have trouble making eye contact. Or will he? I mean, what's it like to have someone love you and not feel that back? Is it at least flattering or is it damn uncomfortable? Can't say I've been there and if I have, can't say that I knew.
I sometimes ask myself why bother with all this...there has to be a better way of getting over relationships. Why can't I wake up and wish all the emotion away? Why can't I reason with myself, "Self, this ship has sailed, save yourself"? Why can't I get angry, cry, break some shit, and breathe, knowing that it's all over? Well, as I've been reminded, they can't even cure the common cold yet. So frankly, if you're looking for answers over here, I've got nothing for you. All I know is that once upon a time, I loved a man so deeply that when it fell apart I routinely cried the mascara off my face everyday right before work. And now, I can count the amount of times I think about him on a daily basis using two fingers (both middle fingers mind you).
And so all I know is that loving someone that doesn't love you back is far from the worst relationship souvenir you could keep.
And loving someone after you've been hurt is a sign that you haven't been defeated.
Oh yeah...and while falling in love is out of our hands, staying in love is a choice and so no matter what, this too shall pass.
Let's just hope it's before the next BBQ ;-p
I did it again. The one thing I didn't think I could. Didn't think I'd want to do. Hell, I really didn't want to and it happened anyway. I loved again.
Let me be clear. I don't really know how it happened. I dated a guy on and off, healthily and unhealthily, with labels and without them for almost 8 months. I couldn't understand why I cared about every interaction, why I missed laughing with him, why I was struggling once it was over and why the prospect of dating other men made me nauseous. And then my girlfriend said it so non chalantly, "Well, I guess it would be a lot easier to get over him if you didn't love him". I am not exaggerating when I say I cursed that woman out and laughed like a madwoman. "Love who? Him? Hell no. I don't love nobody but myself and my baby. Are you crazy? What do I have I have to love him for?" And frankly, once you start rambling and your grammar falls apart, you know you're full of it. It's over and you've lost this verbal battle.
I was a mess. I love him? I love him? I love him. How did that happen? How many times did we laugh together before it happened? How many future plans did we share before it happened? How many family history/war stories did we swap until it happened? Was it when I slept over? Was it the hugs or the kisses? Was it the fact that we had a good chance of having a dark skinned little girl with green eyes...don't ask, but scientifically it was true! And worse than this discovery, was the ugly truth staring at me mercilessly. We weren't even together anymore and the chances that HE loved ME were slim. So as if loving someone again, against your will, after being hurt on multiple occasions, was not enough; I wouldn't even be able to count on having that person love me back. Excuse me while I jump off the nearest NYC bridge. This is ri-damn-diculous.
Now if you're like me, you might also find it difficult to find the point in loving someone who can't/won't/or just don't love you back. I could lie and say that I sat with all these emotions and tried to figure out how I felt and what I could do with these feelings (positive things of course). But I love to swim in this river called DE-NIAL and instead I pretended my friend was crazy and I had sense in my head. I went out that weekend with a bunch of friends to celebrate a major accomplishment for this man, exchanged some laughs, had a few drinks (on an empty stomach) and by the end of the night, proclaimed my love for this man...to this man. Now ask me a simple question like "How did that happen?" and I'll say "Hell if I know, I don't remember". As if me falling in love was not a betrayal enough, my poor empty stomach couldn't handle my drinking and allowed the alcohol to create what I like to call "holes" in my brain. In one of those holes lies the whole conversation in which I thought it would be a good idea to let the "ex" know I loved him. I completely understand what Pink meant when she said she was a "hazard" to herself.
Long story short, he told a mutual friend about it...twice. This mutual friend attempted to clean it up by saying that I had a lot to drink and probably meant "love" like we all love our friends. Kisses and hugs to the friend who tried to clean up this disaster. I do not believe with any ounce of my being that the ex believed it though. Luckily, I could depend on one of his worst flaws to be one of my greatest saving graces right now--he hates confrontation on any issues of importance. And hell, love is pretty important. So I could depend...i could bet...on him not asking me about it directly and thus live a semi normal life thereafter.
I've seen him since then and to be honest, we're supposed to "have lunch" this week. Somehow I get the sense that a one on one lunch date versus the group at a BBQ venue (the last time i saw him) will be slightly different. I also get the sense that I will have trouble making eye contact. Or will he? I mean, what's it like to have someone love you and not feel that back? Is it at least flattering or is it damn uncomfortable? Can't say I've been there and if I have, can't say that I knew.
I sometimes ask myself why bother with all this...there has to be a better way of getting over relationships. Why can't I wake up and wish all the emotion away? Why can't I reason with myself, "Self, this ship has sailed, save yourself"? Why can't I get angry, cry, break some shit, and breathe, knowing that it's all over? Well, as I've been reminded, they can't even cure the common cold yet. So frankly, if you're looking for answers over here, I've got nothing for you. All I know is that once upon a time, I loved a man so deeply that when it fell apart I routinely cried the mascara off my face everyday right before work. And now, I can count the amount of times I think about him on a daily basis using two fingers (both middle fingers mind you).
And so all I know is that loving someone that doesn't love you back is far from the worst relationship souvenir you could keep.
And loving someone after you've been hurt is a sign that you haven't been defeated.
Oh yeah...and while falling in love is out of our hands, staying in love is a choice and so no matter what, this too shall pass.
Let's just hope it's before the next BBQ ;-p
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Because I'm in the Mood
My best friend is a huge fan of Audre Lorde and well, friends are supposed to put you on to new things :-p So blog world, I share this poem with you and add some commentary at the end...
Stations by Audre Lorde
Some women love to wait for life
for a ring in the June light
for a touch of the sun to heal them
for another woman's voice
to make them whole
to untie their hands
put words in their mouths
form to the passages
sound to their screams
for some other sleeper to remember
their future
their past.
Some women wait for their right train
in the wrong station
in the alleys of morning
for the noon to holler
the night come down.
Some women wait for love
to rise up
the child of their promise
to gather from earth
what they do not plant
to claim pain for labor
to become
the tip of an arrow
to aim at the heart of now
but it never stays.
Some women wait for visions
that do not return
where they were not welcomed
naked
for invitations to places
they always wanted to visit
to be repeated.
Some women wait for themselves
around the next corner
and call the empty spot peace
but the opposite of living
is only not living
and the stars do not care.
Some women wait for something to change
and nothing does change
so they change
There is so much that speaks to me in this poem that it's actually difficult to start. I think about the last 3 lines-"Some women wait for something to change and nothing does change so they change" and it's odd to me that one can interpret them in 2 different ways, both accurate & fitting.
On the one hand, a person can only sit waiting for something to be different before they DECIDE to be different. A woman walks away from a loveless marriage, Mom goes back to school after years of home making, the Social Worker changes careers, or the real estate agent just decides to travel because she can. Their lives WILL be different because they choose it to be. On the other hand, sometimes a person can get so stifled by the stagnancy of their lives that they adapt and stop wanting things to be different just so they can have peace. Perhaps that's the woman who stops wanting more from her partner, the woman who never does anything that doesn't revolve around her family & children, the woman who can't make a decision her Church doesn't agree with, or the woman who stays at her job because it's stable. I'm both of these women at different times and I suppose that's how life goes.
Stations by Audre Lorde
Some women love to wait for life
for a ring in the June light
for a touch of the sun to heal them
for another woman's voice
to make them whole
to untie their hands
put words in their mouths
form to the passages
sound to their screams
for some other sleeper to remember
their future
their past.
Some women wait for their right train
in the wrong station
in the alleys of morning
for the noon to holler
the night come down.
Some women wait for love
to rise up
the child of their promise
to gather from earth
what they do not plant
to claim pain for labor
to become
the tip of an arrow
to aim at the heart of now
but it never stays.
Some women wait for visions
that do not return
where they were not welcomed
naked
for invitations to places
they always wanted to visit
to be repeated.
Some women wait for themselves
around the next corner
and call the empty spot peace
but the opposite of living
is only not living
and the stars do not care.
Some women wait for something to change
and nothing does change
so they change
There is so much that speaks to me in this poem that it's actually difficult to start. I think about the last 3 lines-"Some women wait for something to change and nothing does change so they change" and it's odd to me that one can interpret them in 2 different ways, both accurate & fitting.
On the one hand, a person can only sit waiting for something to be different before they DECIDE to be different. A woman walks away from a loveless marriage, Mom goes back to school after years of home making, the Social Worker changes careers, or the real estate agent just decides to travel because she can. Their lives WILL be different because they choose it to be. On the other hand, sometimes a person can get so stifled by the stagnancy of their lives that they adapt and stop wanting things to be different just so they can have peace. Perhaps that's the woman who stops wanting more from her partner, the woman who never does anything that doesn't revolve around her family & children, the woman who can't make a decision her Church doesn't agree with, or the woman who stays at her job because it's stable. I'm both of these women at different times and I suppose that's how life goes.
Saturday, December 01, 2007
'Cause Mary J's always got it right...
"No time for moping around, are you kidding?
And no time for negative vibes, cause I’m winning
It’s been a long week, I put in my hardest
Gonna live my life, feels so good to get it right
So I like what I see when I’m looking at me
When I’m walking past the mirror
No stress through the night, at a time in my life
Ain’t worried about if you feel it
Got my head on straight, I got my mind right
I aint gonna let you kill it
You see I wouldn’t change my life, my life’s just…..
Fine, fine, fine, fine, fine, fine,"
Let's just say that for now (and hopefully for a long time lol) I've got nothing to complain about. To be thankful for-there's plenty and while it may be well past Thanksgiving, when I thank God, here's my list:
1) A beautiful, healthy baby boy
2) A pain in the ass boyfriend who I wouldn't trade for the world
3) A family going through growing pains (always) that never fails to make me smile somehow
4) Friends who've made it a mission to stay in my life even when our lives don't cross paths as easy as they did in college
5) A new job that pays me what I deserve and makes me proud to be a social worker
6) and dare I say, a stunningly gorgeous WOMAN that stares back at me every time I pass a mirror whispering the secret that she always knew I'd be happy and get all the good I deserve--I love that WOMAN.
Tuesday, October 09, 2007
Drum roll please.......................................
Hello blogworld,
I'm officially home now with my beautiful baby boy Joseph Ajani *last name withheld for privacy lol* . He was born on October 3rd at 3:16 am--8 pounds 11.2 ounces and 19.5 inches. I would say it was a typical labor which means that in one word it would be described as OUCH! lol Unfortunately, I did have some physical complications as a result of pushing (separated a pelvic bone/cartilage area) and will be needing physical therapy for a few months to get back to walking like a normal human being-no worries I'm already recovering well :-) Anyway, I look forward to writing a new post about labor, delivery, and a new baby...but that will not be happening anytime soon I don't think lol
Anyway, thanks for all the well wishes and prayers! I will try my best to upload a pic of my gorgeous boy (it's true...he's amazingly beautiful...I guess I shouldn't have expected any less given the gene pool LOL)
love,
Anacaona
Edit: Obviously I added a pic lol.
Monday, October 01, 2007
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
I'm going to have to ask you to leave
you see that and the other ticker on here reads "Hooray, I've arrived"-yeah that's a lie because I have a nine pound (plus) baby in my uterus who seems to have no desire to evacuate the premises. Now, I've had different talks with him:
Encouraging: "Hey baby, it's not so bad out here. There's alot of people who want to see you and spoil you and buy you stuff-plus you might be the future president or something"
Humorous: "Please come now because the new season of Grey's starts tomorrow and I don't want to miss it".
Combative: "Give me my body back...right now or i'm going to leave you in there forever..."
Pleading: "Please get out, you'll like me and daddy, I promise"
None work-he's stubborn like his parents (who knew???). And granted most first babies are late, but everyone said I was so active there was no way I would make it to my due date let alone afterwards, but alas they were wrong. An truthfully it wouldn't be so bad if he weren't so f*cking huge lol I was expecting an 8 pound baby plus some ounces-i was 8 and some ounces, my boyfriend was almost 9-but yesterday he was 9 pounds and 3 ounces and i'm not supposed to be induced until Monday night. He could gain half a pound in that time-9.9 gadzooks, no vagina could/should be able to do that. Yet, I don't want a C-section because I'm scared of it, the post-surgical pain, the horror stories. On the plus side, no pain of pushing big ass babies out of my cooch, buttttttttt still scary as are most major surgeries. I've read up on C-sections so that I'm not caught off guard in case that is the option presented to me, but it's hard because my mom had one C-section and 4 natural births and she says the C-section was by far her worst birthing experience. I try to tell myself that everyone's body is different and her recuperation could have just been worse. I also say that her C-section was 15 years ago and that's got to make a difference in procedure, but people seem to love to tell you all the horrible things that could happen...right before it might happen to you. Humans are soooo nice to each other aren't they?
So, here are my fears mixed in with a couple of tears and I wish I had a better last post before giving birth, but I doubt I'll be on this again until my baby makes an appearance. Wish me luck people
or send me money
or both
just kidding
kind of ;-)
Peace and God's blessings to all.
Always,
Anacaona
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
He's pushing too hard
my father...not my baby's father-he's doing very well and getting obviously nervous day by day lol-
but my biological father-the sperm donor who's never been a part of my life-is just so damn confusing. I mean it's hard for us to have phone conversations longer than 10 minutes, he's canceled plans on me more times than I care to remember, and he just really blows in the father category. I'm trying to understand in my head that he will probably be a solid acquaintance at best, but it's hard because I want him to be better than that. I want him to be more. Yet for my sanity I realize that I can't even pay too much attention to the whole thing.
Now the weird/uncomfortable/frustrating part is that he is trying so hard to connect me with his children. Like make us all a big, happy family-even sent me a letter saying as much (mind you-he sent me a letter from one borough of New York to the next, but hasn't even been able to make time or use the energy to physically see me-yeah that sh*t pisses me off). He gave my number to my younger "brothers and sisters" and gave me their number and he sent me some of their pics and a letter saying how he wants us to be close.
WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?
Now, i need, no scratch that, would like people to understand that this is not about my so called siblings. I don't have anything against them-they're all younger than me and I suppose one day it would be nice to talk to them and maybe be friends or something. But, right now, I'm trying to establish a relationship with a man who is my so-called father. I never called him and said I want to get to know your other children...I want to get to know YOU...eventually that will mean your children, but it doesn't mean NOW. He doesn't even live with them-what the fuck are we supposed to talk about? What it's like to not have him in our lives-he's been definitely more involved with them than me, but he's still missing from their lives right now, so I guess that could be a bonding option. Except that I don't want to bond over that.
Sometimes, it's so hard because he'll say something like, "Do you have your brother's number?" or "Has your sister called you?" and I want to yell at him, "Yes, all my brothers and sisters, who I grew up with have my number and call me, I call them, and we see each other, now who are you talking about?" And sometimes I think that's cold or selfish and other times I really don't care. If they call me, I definitely talk to them (it's only been once, but it was cute and awkward because the youngest called me, she's 10 or 11, i'm 23, it would have been weird no matter what lol), but I'm not making an effort and it's not personal. It's just not my life and not what i'm looking for right now.
Then to make the experience that much more frustrating is that the fact that he feels the need to give me advice-unsolicited and borderline useless-but it pisses me off nonetheless. For example, so people can see that I'm not crazy (or that I am whatever)-here's a sample, real convo we had recently:
Sperm Donor(SD): So, where's your boyfriend?
Me: He's not home right now.
SD: He's never home.
Me: He's home alot, but for some reason when you call, he isn't usually home.
SD: And you don't get mad or anything.
Me: No, what do I need to get mad about. I talk to him on the phone. He knows when I'm home and I know when he's coming home.
SD: That's good, I guess. Your mom was like that with me too. She never bothered me when I'd get home late. She would even ask me if I wanted something to eat or wanted her to turn on the shower.
Me: (Stifling the urge to tell him everything I know about that-how mom knew he was a cheating dog, how he was older than her and so she didn't really know how to approach him about his behavior, how she felt like she bent over backwards to gain his love which proved fruitless, how she believes he took advantage of her eagerness to please him-but I stifle it and say instead...) Yeah, I don't fight about things like that. If I didn't trust him I wouldn't be with him. I don't feel the need to spend time with someone I don't trust and also have to fit time into my life to argue with that person.
SD: That's good...but you gotta be smart too. Let him know that some things aren't acceptable and that he has to be a grown man-he's got a baby coming.
PAUSE
Now-I was able to wrap up the convo very quickly before I went through the phone and choked him, BUT
who the fuck gave him the indication that I wasn't smart enough to know when a man was pulling the wool over my eyes-who said that my boyfriend and I hadn't established what is and is not acceptable in our relationship-who said my boyfriend was not a grown man or that anyone else could insult him except for me...
See? why is this man worrying his little head over giving me unsolicited, irrelevant advice instead of worrying about what a bad father he's been and how he is scoring no points right now either? Or does he think that this is what a father should do? Because I guess the problem is that he's not my father and he isn't going to be. No matter how many times he leaves me a voicemail and says, "Hi __, this is F, your father" or writes a letter signed, F, your father-he is not my father and will not be my father. I guess the truth is that it is becoming more and more evident, that my FATHER, my DAD, with all his flaws and challenges, lives in Connecticut, is married to my mom, and is the father of the siblings that I grew up with. And I could post a long rambling post about his flaws too, but at the end of the day-I love him, he loves me, he sucks, and sometimes I'm a bitch-and I'm okay with that.
but my biological father-the sperm donor who's never been a part of my life-is just so damn confusing. I mean it's hard for us to have phone conversations longer than 10 minutes, he's canceled plans on me more times than I care to remember, and he just really blows in the father category. I'm trying to understand in my head that he will probably be a solid acquaintance at best, but it's hard because I want him to be better than that. I want him to be more. Yet for my sanity I realize that I can't even pay too much attention to the whole thing.
Now the weird/uncomfortable/frustrating part is that he is trying so hard to connect me with his children. Like make us all a big, happy family-even sent me a letter saying as much (mind you-he sent me a letter from one borough of New York to the next, but hasn't even been able to make time or use the energy to physically see me-yeah that sh*t pisses me off). He gave my number to my younger "brothers and sisters" and gave me their number and he sent me some of their pics and a letter saying how he wants us to be close.
WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?
Now, i need, no scratch that, would like people to understand that this is not about my so called siblings. I don't have anything against them-they're all younger than me and I suppose one day it would be nice to talk to them and maybe be friends or something. But, right now, I'm trying to establish a relationship with a man who is my so-called father. I never called him and said I want to get to know your other children...I want to get to know YOU...eventually that will mean your children, but it doesn't mean NOW. He doesn't even live with them-what the fuck are we supposed to talk about? What it's like to not have him in our lives-he's been definitely more involved with them than me, but he's still missing from their lives right now, so I guess that could be a bonding option. Except that I don't want to bond over that.
Sometimes, it's so hard because he'll say something like, "Do you have your brother's number?" or "Has your sister called you?" and I want to yell at him, "Yes, all my brothers and sisters, who I grew up with have my number and call me, I call them, and we see each other, now who are you talking about?" And sometimes I think that's cold or selfish and other times I really don't care. If they call me, I definitely talk to them (it's only been once, but it was cute and awkward because the youngest called me, she's 10 or 11, i'm 23, it would have been weird no matter what lol), but I'm not making an effort and it's not personal. It's just not my life and not what i'm looking for right now.
Then to make the experience that much more frustrating is that the fact that he feels the need to give me advice-unsolicited and borderline useless-but it pisses me off nonetheless. For example, so people can see that I'm not crazy (or that I am whatever)-here's a sample, real convo we had recently:
Sperm Donor(SD): So, where's your boyfriend?
Me: He's not home right now.
SD: He's never home.
Me: He's home alot, but for some reason when you call, he isn't usually home.
SD: And you don't get mad or anything.
Me: No, what do I need to get mad about. I talk to him on the phone. He knows when I'm home and I know when he's coming home.
SD: That's good, I guess. Your mom was like that with me too. She never bothered me when I'd get home late. She would even ask me if I wanted something to eat or wanted her to turn on the shower.
Me: (Stifling the urge to tell him everything I know about that-how mom knew he was a cheating dog, how he was older than her and so she didn't really know how to approach him about his behavior, how she felt like she bent over backwards to gain his love which proved fruitless, how she believes he took advantage of her eagerness to please him-but I stifle it and say instead...) Yeah, I don't fight about things like that. If I didn't trust him I wouldn't be with him. I don't feel the need to spend time with someone I don't trust and also have to fit time into my life to argue with that person.
SD: That's good...but you gotta be smart too. Let him know that some things aren't acceptable and that he has to be a grown man-he's got a baby coming.
PAUSE
Now-I was able to wrap up the convo very quickly before I went through the phone and choked him, BUT
who the fuck gave him the indication that I wasn't smart enough to know when a man was pulling the wool over my eyes-who said that my boyfriend and I hadn't established what is and is not acceptable in our relationship-who said my boyfriend was not a grown man or that anyone else could insult him except for me...
See? why is this man worrying his little head over giving me unsolicited, irrelevant advice instead of worrying about what a bad father he's been and how he is scoring no points right now either? Or does he think that this is what a father should do? Because I guess the problem is that he's not my father and he isn't going to be. No matter how many times he leaves me a voicemail and says, "Hi __, this is F, your father" or writes a letter signed, F, your father-he is not my father and will not be my father. I guess the truth is that it is becoming more and more evident, that my FATHER, my DAD, with all his flaws and challenges, lives in Connecticut, is married to my mom, and is the father of the siblings that I grew up with. And I could post a long rambling post about his flaws too, but at the end of the day-I love him, he loves me, he sucks, and sometimes I'm a bitch-and I'm okay with that.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Because this can't be stressed nearly enough...
Yeah...5 weeks...not like i'm freaking out or anything or experiencing all sorts of weird and uncomfortable end of pregnancy symptoms...or extremely tired all the time yet trying to work crazy hard to horde (sp?) as much money as possible to survive during my unpaid maternity leave months...yeah unpaid because I only work 'part time' even when i work full time...because no one cares about young mothers...or old mothers...or mothers in general for that matter. Toss a dog a bone here-can't I get a subsidy? Promise to come back and sell you my soul for x amount of months/years in order to get a little money beforehand and if I don't do it you can nail my ass to the wall or my vagina for that matter, because I really wonder if it will ever work the same again...hope, but still wonder...
boy do i need to go to sleep, I think I know what TS was talking about when she decided against post midnight blogging, but that kind of felt good and I see why people do it...Later bloggers!
Saturday, July 28, 2007
Sooooo pregnant, but far from giving up
So being pregnant ain't as easy as some people might think, on the other hand, I've found that my experience has not been as bad as many horror stories I've heard. I'm quite thankful for that believe me. So in light of these two sentiments, I decided to focus on some pluses and deltas in my life right now:
Pluses
Pluses
- I went to the NYInternationalLatinoFilmFestival today (my first film festival) and saw two documentaries and a movie-one was decent, one was pretty good, and one was very good, not bad for a first timer.
- I went to said festival with TS and that was the best part, we got to catch up on our lives, good and bad in real time (as opposed to IM or email), and we even took a trip to City Island (another first for me) for seafood between films.
- Though just about 8 months pregnant, I managed to survive a long ass day of walking, subway riding, more walking, and film watching in temperatures and humidity that made me change my clothes once and contemplate gouging my eyes out :-) I believe I drank about 4 bottles of water.
- I will be signing a lease for a new apartment tomorrow!!! A 3 bedroom, 2 bathroom, with dining room, and balcony on a 2nd floor of a private house--best parts??? Same price as my current one bedroom apartment and NO BROKER'S FEE.
- My baby shower is in exactly two weeks and my confirmed guest list is full of many people I love and many I'm not able to see often---including none other than my best friend and my son's godmother, Jrny_wmn
- And finally, my baby is almost here! My son, who has no name because my fiance and I can't agree on one, will be called Baby Boy _______ for a few days. But either way, he is almost in the world and I can't wait. I'm still nervous, but honestly more excited than anxious these days.
- Instead of being fired from my job (not because of incompetence, but because of maternity leave), I decided to resign on Friday. Therefore, I technically don't have a job to go back to after I give birth--that is a separate post that I hope to complete in the next few days.
- After being stood up again by my real father, I confronted him a little angrily over the phone...that was last Sunday and I've yet to hear from him since. There goes that attempt at reunification. That is also a separate post that I hope to complete in the next few days.
- I owe my graduate school almost $2000 and until I pay it, my diploma is being held hostage. I don't have that much money and I can't get a loan to pay for it because my credit isn't "good enough" nor do I know anyone who can "co-sign". My credit is better than most of my family and friends', but still nooooooot good enough I guess.
- It's getting a little harder to get up and down subway stairs with this big ass belly and a baby pushing up on my diaphragm (sp?). It makes me feel a little old and helpless, especially when you pair that with not being able to bend over to tie my shoes (or do anything for that matter), peeing millions of times a day, not being able to see my nether regions or bottom of belly and shirts (thereby missing stains or spills that others love to point out) and not being able to find a good position to sleep in...so while 2 months is a short time for baby arrival, it is also very, very f*cking long.
Thursday, July 19, 2007
I am afraid of you
afraid of what i don't know
and what i might find out
afraid of continuing to tread lightly over questions of the past
afraid to go any deeper and learn the truth
i'm afraid to acknowledge the traces of an addicted past
your voice quite telling in the secrets it holds
the phrasings and questions of a person who's hustled for far too long
having hustled and been hustled, you're obviously a pro
afraid you're hustling me right now
hustling a connection
hustling caring
hustling love
afraid to look at you
and see me
afraid to look at you
and not see me
feel lost still with an unknown past
ancestors, heritage, stories, and anecdotes that explain a real part of me
currently on hiatus
i'm afraid of getting comfortable with a stranger
so inextricably a part of my life
afraid of the blood that runs through my veins
with it's love, hate, rage, and pain
afraid to discuss what's better left unsaid
addiction
abandonment
rehab
jail
sickness
death
of you, by you
of others close to you
What pain do you carry?
Do we have any common threads?
Can we see each other's scars?
Do we ever really want to?
i'm afraid of you
can't call it the unknown
because i have an idea
can't call it fear
as i push harder towards it
anxiety is not the word
doesn't fully explain
i'm afraid of you
and all that that may mean
i'm afraid of you
and what disappointment may come
i'm afraid of you
and finding your place in my puzzle
i'm afraid of you
the secret being...
i'm afraid i want to love you and be loved by you
and what i might find out
afraid of continuing to tread lightly over questions of the past
afraid to go any deeper and learn the truth
i'm afraid to acknowledge the traces of an addicted past
your voice quite telling in the secrets it holds
the phrasings and questions of a person who's hustled for far too long
having hustled and been hustled, you're obviously a pro
afraid you're hustling me right now
hustling a connection
hustling caring
hustling love
afraid to look at you
and see me
afraid to look at you
and not see me
feel lost still with an unknown past
ancestors, heritage, stories, and anecdotes that explain a real part of me
currently on hiatus
i'm afraid of getting comfortable with a stranger
so inextricably a part of my life
afraid of the blood that runs through my veins
with it's love, hate, rage, and pain
afraid to discuss what's better left unsaid
addiction
abandonment
rehab
jail
sickness
death
of you, by you
of others close to you
What pain do you carry?
Do we have any common threads?
Can we see each other's scars?
Do we ever really want to?
i'm afraid of you
can't call it the unknown
because i have an idea
can't call it fear
as i push harder towards it
anxiety is not the word
doesn't fully explain
i'm afraid of you
and all that that may mean
i'm afraid of you
and what disappointment may come
i'm afraid of you
and finding your place in my puzzle
i'm afraid of you
the secret being...
i'm afraid i want to love you and be loved by you
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Sunday, July 15, 2007
"You can't disappoint me because I don't love you"
Such a simple, direct pronouncement by one of the main characters in We Were the Mulvaneys (Joyce Carol Oates, 1996) and the character,
Unfortunately, I can say now from experience that it's not true. People that you don't love can disappoint you and I don't know that it will always hurt less than disappointment from someone you love. Perhaps there's more patience when someone you love does it, yes maybe the initial anger and sadness is stronger, but eventually you let it go because you love them. Not so much for someone you don't love. In my last post, I talked about trying to create a relationship with my real father (aka the sperm donor). I've promised myself that I wouldn't push too hard, I would let it ebb and flow any way it wants. So i've called a couple of times and he's called a couple of times. Not too shabby I'd say. Anyway, my birthday was this past Friday (yes I'm officially 23 and hotter than ever as one guy said to me today, "You are a beautiful pregnant woman, you sure are." I knew that already but random reassurance is nice sometimes lol)...ANYWAY, getting back to the point, my "F" called the Thursday before and said, "I know your birthday is tomorrow and I was thinking maybe we can get together on Sunday before I go to work". I was not expecting the call or the invitation, but I received both happily. We agreed to meet Sunday around 6 or 7 in
And more than stood up, i got disappointed and I don't love him. I got disappointed and not in a way that happens when your friend cancels plans at the last minute, but disappointed in the way that happens when you tried to pretend that you didn't care about said 'date', yet went to do your eyebrows and got your hair done, and even put on a new outfit, why??? Because it did mean that much, because part of you was willing to take all anxiety and suck it up to face your 'maker' (not to be confused with your Maker-spiritual being who created you lol), because no matter what would have been said on that date, you wanted him to walk away thinking "she is amazing and I suck for having missed out on her life all these years". Because you can pretend that you don't care that he was around, but you did, even if it was just a little, because it left confusion in your heart and mind that you didn't even talk to anyone about for YEARS. Because you wonder...every so once in a while...what life would have been like with him-good, bad, ugly or indifferent.
In his defense, he finally called around
and I don't even love him.
P.S.
My Two Dads
So it's been a long time in the making, this post I mean, trying to figure out how to write it, when to write, why I should bother. And yet, I wrote it already-in the shower, on the toilet, in bed, cooking dinner, I've written this many, many times, but now I share it with you.
I don't remember what My Two Dads was about, at least not specifically. I know there were two White guys who were taking care of a nice, typical TV white teenager. I looked it up to try to remember the show and it came back a little. The two fathers had gained custody of the girl after her mother died-both had tried to gain the affection of her mother and when she passed were granted custody together. They fought because they had different personalities, they fought because raising a teenager will make you do that, they fought because it was in the script to do so, duh :-) Anyway, it was cute, innocent, & canceled in 3 years-Nothing like my two dads.
In this corner, hailing from Southside Brooklyn, New York, we have soon to be 42 year old Nuyorican "M". M is my step father who raised me since I was two years old, give or take a few months. Millions of miles from perfect, this is who I call Dad. He didn't graduate from high school, he's struggled with substance abuse for as long as I've known him, he's been violent and/or abusive to everyone in my home, from mom to grandma to every child and he's passive-aggressive in a textbook kind of way. He's also funny, generous, and downright vulnerable in a child like way. As a social worker, I think he has poor coping skills stemming from multiple childhood traumas. As a daughter, a sister, and a soon to be mother, I think he might be crazy. I think I would like to say that our relationship is like a roller coaster ride, but the truth is that roller coaster rides have beautiful, exhilarating highs and our relationship does not. I feel blessed when we're cruising along, able to laugh together and maybe only focus on superficial topics of conversation in ten minute intervals. I feel cursed, when all the rage I have in my heart comes rushing to the surface because of one look, one comment, one misstep, and all I can think is that if he disappeared off the face of the earth, I would be fine, fine, fine. But he's my Dad, and though technically he's not the only one I got, he is-because
in this corner, born and raised in Puerto Rico (where I don't really know) but in the United States since his late teen years, we have 40 something year old "F". Can you tell how much I know about him already? While "M" battled with substance abuse mostly in the form of alcoholism (with some dabbling in coke use over the years), "F" found heroin to be his drug of choice and an ugly mistake if I've ever seen one. Therefore, "F" has been in and out of jail and/or rehab over the years and not even a small part of my life. I know I saw him sometimes as a child, but can't remember. My mom just told me they both lived together with me for almost a year of my life, I didn't know that before. And the one time I saw him that I could remember, I was 17 years old and couldn't speak to him because I didn't have the words and apparently neither did he-it was very awkward. That was about 6 years ago. I'd like to tell you the positives about him, but I don't know them. Maybe he's funny too. Maybe he's generous. Maybe he's kind and maybe he's smart. No idea. But ever since, I got pregnant I decided I needed to know him. I need to know the good, the bad, and the downright ugly because for better or for worse, his blood runs through my veins and his essence is part of my unborn son's. So one day, maybe a month ago I got his number from his mother, found out we were both in New York City, and called him. Over the course of this past month, we've talked a few times, trying to stitch together a broken past, a distinct present, and an unsure future as father and daughter. So many questions that need to be answered, so many answers that I'll wish were left unsaid, so many sighs of exasperation for a relationship that may never be what it could have been.
See because the truth is, I technically have two dads, neither of which is perfect, but both of which are mine. And I don't know what this ever meant, what it means now, nor what it will mean later. I only know that for most of my life I believed I had a "Dad" and a "sperm donor", pardon the crudeness, but that's what I thought. And now, I'm trying to accept that I may have two dads, may because my real father may end up disappearing from my life at any moment, may because my stepfather may be completely hurt if he finds out I am talking to my real father and then we'll have to deal with that, may because I might come to the conclusion that this young woman here can only handle one flawed, painfully human Dad at a time. I guess only time will tell.
I don't remember what My Two Dads was about, at least not specifically. I know there were two White guys who were taking care of a nice, typical TV white teenager. I looked it up to try to remember the show and it came back a little. The two fathers had gained custody of the girl after her mother died-both had tried to gain the affection of her mother and when she passed were granted custody together. They fought because they had different personalities, they fought because raising a teenager will make you do that, they fought because it was in the script to do so, duh :-) Anyway, it was cute, innocent, & canceled in 3 years-Nothing like my two dads.
In this corner, hailing from Southside Brooklyn, New York, we have soon to be 42 year old Nuyorican "M". M is my step father who raised me since I was two years old, give or take a few months. Millions of miles from perfect, this is who I call Dad. He didn't graduate from high school, he's struggled with substance abuse for as long as I've known him, he's been violent and/or abusive to everyone in my home, from mom to grandma to every child and he's passive-aggressive in a textbook kind of way. He's also funny, generous, and downright vulnerable in a child like way. As a social worker, I think he has poor coping skills stemming from multiple childhood traumas. As a daughter, a sister, and a soon to be mother, I think he might be crazy. I think I would like to say that our relationship is like a roller coaster ride, but the truth is that roller coaster rides have beautiful, exhilarating highs and our relationship does not. I feel blessed when we're cruising along, able to laugh together and maybe only focus on superficial topics of conversation in ten minute intervals. I feel cursed, when all the rage I have in my heart comes rushing to the surface because of one look, one comment, one misstep, and all I can think is that if he disappeared off the face of the earth, I would be fine, fine, fine. But he's my Dad, and though technically he's not the only one I got, he is-because
in this corner, born and raised in Puerto Rico (where I don't really know) but in the United States since his late teen years, we have 40 something year old "F". Can you tell how much I know about him already? While "M" battled with substance abuse mostly in the form of alcoholism (with some dabbling in coke use over the years), "F" found heroin to be his drug of choice and an ugly mistake if I've ever seen one. Therefore, "F" has been in and out of jail and/or rehab over the years and not even a small part of my life. I know I saw him sometimes as a child, but can't remember. My mom just told me they both lived together with me for almost a year of my life, I didn't know that before. And the one time I saw him that I could remember, I was 17 years old and couldn't speak to him because I didn't have the words and apparently neither did he-it was very awkward. That was about 6 years ago. I'd like to tell you the positives about him, but I don't know them. Maybe he's funny too. Maybe he's generous. Maybe he's kind and maybe he's smart. No idea. But ever since, I got pregnant I decided I needed to know him. I need to know the good, the bad, and the downright ugly because for better or for worse, his blood runs through my veins and his essence is part of my unborn son's. So one day, maybe a month ago I got his number from his mother, found out we were both in New York City, and called him. Over the course of this past month, we've talked a few times, trying to stitch together a broken past, a distinct present, and an unsure future as father and daughter. So many questions that need to be answered, so many answers that I'll wish were left unsaid, so many sighs of exasperation for a relationship that may never be what it could have been.
See because the truth is, I technically have two dads, neither of which is perfect, but both of which are mine. And I don't know what this ever meant, what it means now, nor what it will mean later. I only know that for most of my life I believed I had a "Dad" and a "sperm donor", pardon the crudeness, but that's what I thought. And now, I'm trying to accept that I may have two dads, may because my real father may end up disappearing from my life at any moment, may because my stepfather may be completely hurt if he finds out I am talking to my real father and then we'll have to deal with that, may because I might come to the conclusion that this young woman here can only handle one flawed, painfully human Dad at a time. I guess only time will tell.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOW
I'm officially done with grad school...that's right, last month was a fluke seeing as how I still had to complete a summer class. But, alas, that summer class is over as of 5 and a half hours ago. Final paper handed in-CHECK! Final presentation done-CHECK!! No more pencils, no more books, no more security guards dirty looks (i went to a white washed Ivy League, it happens lol)-CHECK!!!
Anyway, so yeah probably sometime this weekend I will freak out as I realize that I am that much closer to adulthood, am expecting a baby, and may or may not have a new job, apartment, wardrobe ;-), but that will be then and this is
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW
Anyway, so yeah probably sometime this weekend I will freak out as I realize that I am that much closer to adulthood, am expecting a baby, and may or may not have a new job, apartment, wardrobe ;-), but that will be then and this is
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW
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