You’ve survived, now it’s time to live (Part 1)


I’m in love with words. Words and language captivate me. Maybe it isn’t “words” but the fact that words allow for the expression of thoughts. I think a lot, overthink everything and basically live in my head. Without words, my mind will explode.

I was walking towards the gym, my temple, my second home, the only place I erase thoughts, basically the outdoors of some, the escape we all need from the usual and ourselves and from my car to the door I explored many lives. That’s who I am and how I be.

My friend sent me a joke once online. I laughed and then commented. He responded “why do you have to overthink everything? It’s just a joke! You and my wife are the only two people I sent it to. She read it and laughed but you read it and had several thoughts about the underlying issues that she didn’t bring up.”

Because he is one of the sweet notes of my past, I allowed him his rant. I swallowed subsequent thoughts such as “I am not your wife. Maybe she thought them and didn’t say them. Maybe she was busy and cared less. I am the last woman you slept with before you said I do behind my back. That’s who I am. I overthink and you know it. Maybe that’s another reason you married her. Don’t compare me to your wife. Etcetera…” I didn’t. Those were my initial thoughts, with no emotions attached, just plain logic “speak”. The majority of folks tends to attribute emotions to words and I don’t. I’m able to think it, say it but not necessarily feel or ascribe emotions to what I say or hear, think, least to others’ words. A word is an idea, an attribute, the second emotions clog it up, it is more and we miss out on the message, the joy and depth of the idea it puts forth.

I’ve always known I’m one of those thinkers. I overthink everything and most times it is fun. I can create worlds within worlds in my mind. My thoughts keep me going and happy, most times. My thoughts entertain me, laughing quite often at its renderings.

At times, my thoughts consume me, overwhelm and steal my breath, my peace. As the French saying goes: “l’exces en tout nui.” That’s the reason I dislike anything I feel that is negative or that will bring me down. They won’t just be sporadic occurrences, I will carry them with me, for years on. Some folks forget what they say but I remember. As I don’t attach emotion readily to words, placing them first in the laboratory of my mind to play with, it takes me a while to be offended and hurt. Imagine! You make a statement and leave. But I, I take it and mull it over and over and over under different microscopic lights. I live in a world with layers, so I try to understand your statement from your perspective, within the context it was said, why you would say it, and why me yet not another and on and on and on. Once that process is done, usually days later I will then assess how to feel about it. The way I feel about it will be a result of the analysis. Yes! I am strange. So it takes me a while to know whether a statement is an insult, a compliment etc. Some may say I am slow I guess. Functionally within societal context, I really am, which comes across as naïveté that people can’t comprehend in a woman my age.

Once I start pondering how I feel about your statement I will now spend more days analyzing whether I care, why should I care and on and on and on. A conversation with me is basically endless. You may think we are done but in my head it is a long-winded exchange you’re just totally unaware of.

Maybe that’s why I am bold and often come across as harsh. I don’t attribute feelings to words and want to be clear so I won’t send anyone down the maze I go into after an exchange. So I tend to say things like it is, but trust that everything I say have been weighed. I mean what I say, in that moment. Well, unless other possibilities stemming from new pieces of information come under analysis. My words won’t be less meaningless, but amended, within the present context.

As I get older, becoming more aware of who I am, the way I am I have learned to compartmentalize. I am getting better at hearing and not mulling, too much. I must remain sane.

My friend has probably forgotten what he said by now. The same way all the people I have known an family members have forgotten how they used to call me weird, in a way that I am abnormal, that something is wrong with me for not behaving, thinking, talking doing like everyone else they know. I remember though.

In hindsight, the horse’s dung, I feel he expressed displeasure, annoyance to the fact I am not like his wife, that I didn’t behave the way he wanted me to. The fact he said that to me showed how close we are as well, how he trusts me enough to share something he felt though crude I wouldn’t judge him for. He also underlined differences, uniqueness. Yes, I am different. We all are. And we are not everyone’s cup of tea. I’m a glass of Johnny and Henny neat what can I say?

Words move me, hold me, define me, us, everything. I take full responsibility for my words but as for feelings, your feelings or mine, they’re up to us. Do words control feelings? Hardly! Do we control feelings? We should. We really should.

I must say my greatest “ah ha!” moment was having a name for the way I am. Through the years I have taken many of these psych tests for fun but when a friend reached out to me to assist further in my quest for self awareness and knowledge, having a profile, a name for the way I am really centered me. It came at the right time and I was ready to embrace it. I have a name for my disease. I am not alone, rare, extremely rare and different from the rest but not weird, that bad kind of weird, though freeing weird that I enjoy.

I am INTJ!

That’s something isn’t it?

Yeah! I’m not like everyone else. I rather indeed be out of the spotlight, learning, questioning, pondering, seeking knowledge and continue to value connections based on truth and knowledge. Anyone who knows me knows I HATE lies, liars and abhor acquaintance-ship, valuing deep connections instead. I can’t handle touch and go “ships” of any sort.
I know who I am and there’s a name for me mama, I am not weird at all.
“It’s lonely at the top, and being one of the rarest and most strategically capable personality types, INTJs form just two percent of the population, and women of this personality type are especially rare, forming just 0.8% of the world’s population –

A paradox to most observers, INTJs are able to live by glaring contradictions that nonetheless make perfect sense – at least from a purely rational perspective. For example, INTJs are simultaneously the most starry-eyed idealists and the bitterest of cynics, a seemingly impossible conflict.

INTJs are brilliant and confident in bodies of knowledge they have taken the time to understand, but unfortunately the social contract is unlikely to be one of those subjects. White lies and small talk are hard enough as it is for a type that CRAVES TRUTH and DEPTH but INTJs may go so far as to see many social conventions as downright stupid.
Ironically, it is often best for them to remain where they are comfortable – out of the spotlight.”



How low must I to stand?


I’m conflicted. I am sick and this not just emotionally but physically, it often occurs that my sickness worsens when I have no health insurance. I was telling my friend about the pain and he said to go to the ER but I’d rather die than go into debt. Fist world problem: “how much does your life cost? How much are you willing to pay to stay alive?”. Maybe it’s because I haven’t lives for the past five years if not seven that I really would rather die with the pain than go to a walk-in-clinic to feel better and months later be stuck with a bill just so I can exist?

Maybe if breath had life attached, it would be worth it. I’m worth more dead than alive anyway, my kids would be so much better I could only hope.

This isn’t even the worst of it. I’m confronted with doing things I’d never wanted to do or wished for so I can live out my convictions. You’d think convictions come with certainty but they are tested ever so often. How else will you show integrity if your values, your convictions aren’t tested? In the process you’re defining yourself.

Raising children is purgatory for those who don’t bleed money. At least it is for me. It doesn’t take a village to raise kids, it takes money, the ability to provide them with the necessities. After all they didn’t ask to be here and we owe them. Through pleasure and self adulation we brought them here. Poor men, they were dumped on your lap. Sadly, many men don’t choose when they have children but still are forced to provide. My apologies! I feel for your sense of powerlessness. Heck, we are all given our own troubles! We carry them for a lifetime, you only have 18 years forced upon you.

Mothers raise daughters their dad told me and then added “what would you do if I was dead?” I will remember those words until I die. Raising my daughters is my responsibility that I took on and promised myself they would miss out on nothing if I could help it. Until now! I’m failing them. I’m failing her. My baby needs one more year, one more ass year to graduate in the one school ever where she started. I promised her I’d stick it out and I promised her I would do my worst to gift her the chance to start a school and end at that same school with her friends.

Did I know what that promise would cost? Hindsight is horse’s dung I tell you!

This isn’t just about being physically sick either I wish it were. I’m facing going back to hell so I can keep a promise. Should I break one promise so I can hold on to another? My field is so narrow and my life so ironic. I prayed for a year, fasted and cried so I could leave a place where I suffered greatly. And I did. Now the only place there’s an opening is that place. Worst, it will pay less, a whopping thirty thousand dollars less. Do I take it so I can keep my promise to my child or do I sink further down the pits of hell and do what I consider epic fail, aka anything I was not trained to do to keep my promise? You see, I promised myself I’d never go back to struggling because my mom struggled so I put myself through school and got the highest degree in my field. To find myself struggling is worst than a slap in the face. I sunk so low, exactly where I never wanted to fall. But I refuse to pray or beg to go back to where I suffered for so long. Is it pride? Is it conviction or principles? Am I wrong? Am I being unfair to the girls? Forget fairness, life is never fair. But damn, my choices are shitty.

What do I do? Sink! Eat shit! Beg! Death seems the best option. Either choice and I cheat myself of me, my convictions, my hard work! All for naught! All for naught my God!

This I know! I must keep my promise to my child. I don’t know how nor what it will cost me. My pride? My soul? My heart? My health? My sanity?

Raising children is bittersweet when you’re on your ass I tell you!

Do I do what I in a billion years don’t wish to do, eat my own vomit as in break one conviction so I can keep another? How do I straddle both without betraying who I am?

My kids are my everything, the air I breathe an do my purpose. Failing them is failing me. Our parents are all we have, if I fail them what am I teaching them tomorrow? Everyone else can let us down but it won’t start with me. It shouldn’t start with mom!


Dear God!

I need a miracle! God I need a miracle right now!


7 Billion, 1 is all you need!


One thing I do know is that friends come and they go, family is a wind blown. Everything else is within. It will get dark and cold. Days will be sad and lonely. You will feel weak and alone, but you must give yourself what you need.

People have words alone but you have all you need. Whenever you begin to think you are not enough, remember you have made it this far alone. You must learn where to find strength in you, love in you, otherwise you will get the pull. Find an exit!

Life is nothing without you.

Right now is always the perfect time for you find in you to be, to touch; one breath at a time honey. Time is spent with or without, it is in the how you exist. No one asked to be here, everyone staggers into some coherent existence so they convict themselves.

As we say goodbye to friends, family, the elders, bide time ‘till its end. Don’t second guess the past or be so focused on the future, you forget this moment is all you’re given.

Remember when you told me not to get comfortable being alone? I listened and tried but the connections are few. Many seek contact but I am into connection as you learned. I am not made for surface interactions. I must feel the real, sense the true. That is why I am uneasy around too many. All the “how are you? What’s up?” that lead nowhere but conversations none will remember. You did not tell me aloneness will get hard sometimes and that I will crave connectedness more than air and I would need to dig in and live within. Maybe you couldn’t because you too forgot how it used to be. We will make do, won’t we? Tell me it gets better somehow!

Each time I get the call from the other side of lonely I recall, I remember, promising not to forget.

Children grow and let go. Friends come and go, family is a wind blown, all I will ever need is within.




Don’t ask if I’m okay!



Don’t ask if I’m okay!

Not now! Not yet!

Asking me if I’m okay when I’ve lost what I’ve worked for, or someone dear to me or received a poor medical diagnosis does nothing for me. Don’t ask if I’m okay! What do you expect the response to be? “Oh yes! I’m splendid! Everything is falling apart or around me but I’m awesome.”

I think people ask this as a reflex so you can give them a response where they won’t have to be invested in what you’re going through. Asking if someone is okay when they’re experiencing a loss gives a semblance of concern when really, you’re shrouding politeness with unnecessary verbiage. It’s more honest to not say anything at all, express shock possibly or if you can spare some real emotion, sadness.

I know how I feel when I hear this question. “Are you okay,” when facing a loss! It feels insincere. Someone who cares will feel sorry for you and express that, they will share your pain by offering any type of comfort they can in your time of grief. And grieving you are when you lose something or someone dear to you that will cause a drastic shift in your plans and create a gaping hole in your life. First comes the shock, followed by fear, possibly anger, then grief.

Grief demands you tend to it. That’s why in years gone people will bring casseroles upon hearing of someone’s passing. Concern which stems from caring comes with actions, not questions.

You don’t need to know what happened or how, what’s next or how the other is feeling right at that moment. All you need to do is care. Come up with a plan, ways you can be there for the other, offer a hand, a shoulder, an escape, assistance.

Save the quasi feelings and do!

Love does!

Caring has a mind, hands, feet, shoulders, arms, ears, strength I reckon!

There’s always something one can do to prove you’re really concerned and care.


Believe that!


A little sun in your day!



Wondering where my strength comes from for I know within me rests a soul tired of drowning as it strives to survive. To endure requires a strength beyond the capacity of this soul of mine.

One refrain: “Oh God! I’m so tired!” Commitment demands sacrifice and sacrifice is the sum of numerous concessions made against oneself, for greater. For better. The ultimate. It’s placing one value above another which we do often enough and at cost.

And the will trying to sustain itself needs to draw from somewhere that can withstand the slants and the bending it handles. The toughest thing to control is self no matter how much one pretends to want the best for oneself, hardly do we have ve fully conquer ourselves.


And because I feel so weak I call on God with every breath that I take. When others call me strong, they ascertain God keeps coming through for me. I really don’t have it within me.

We want what we want. We expect cause and effect to work as it should. If we build it, it will come. And we go through the process. We plan and build and build to rise, then sustain. When the rules are broken which life loves to do, it’s hard to accept that things don’t often work out as they should. After all we want the best for ourselves and have defined certain things as the best so why would the universe unfold her skirt to sit, cross legged on the object of our yearning then step on the brick and mortar we have painstakingly put together crushing it into grainy dust for the wind to dance with!


A cheerleader should I have by my side as Omi lauds about. None is nigh. It’s circumstance once again or maybe it’s me. One must be open to relations for cheers to occur. I did once upon an almost regret but people abuse the proximity. People are more open to withdrawal than deposits. But it’s me, I’m tired, though I wasn’t before. Enough give without release will leave you dry and staunted. You can not draw strength or happiness from anyone. People come and people go, that’s just the way it is. Look at life, how many people have come and gone along the way? Ah! Fair weather friends!

It took me years to accept that strength is built on confronting the present, of living every single moment,  fully, not rejecting all that it brings: emotions, thoughts, drain or energy.

The more you fight against what is, the more tired you’ll get. But when you sit right where you are, take in everything to its last particle you’ll be able to face anything. That’s what it means to be, strong!

Don’t fight! Stop saying I don’t want this, it should be this way. You’re only arguing against the inevitable. Say: “Oh my! This is tough, I would not want and did not wish for this but since it’s happened, where’s the round-about?.”

God give me strength to endure really means, help me face what I don’t consider to be good or kind or fair. Controlling  your thoughts will allow you more yield over your situation. Self control is ultimate strength.

It’s hard I tell you.

That’s how I managed to dry my tears, stopped allowing anger to weaken me, my will, and take away my power.

The sun shines every day. You may not see it, doesn’t meant it’s not. Troubles come and they go, they may not be occurring in your life but no one is ever free until you allow the light of the moment to strengthen you, enlighten you.

May your Sunday be!!!!