Resolutions 2015

Peace!

I admit... I do resolutions. I don't do them the way most people do them. I think about what I want to work on for weeks... sometimes months. And if I break the resolution, I don't scrap it and quit. I've had resolutions that took me years to complete. In 2013 I resolved to run a 5K race. I didn't complete that until June of 2014. Did I fail? Nope. I persevered. In 2005 I vowed to stop wearing pants publicly. I've kept that going since and people don't even notice! In 2008, I vowed to have 120 by the end of the year... and did. My resolution for 2009 was to attend Show and Prove and I did. I don't see anything wrong with trying to bring more refinement to one's life. I think the thing with G's and E's is 11:14. If someone makes a resolution and doesn't keep it they think they need to commit suicide. It doesn't have to be like that.....

So here is the 2015 Lineup.

8 Scrubs
I hate wearing scrubs. Hate is not too strong a word. They don't look good on me and I don't like the idea of wearing a uniform. Also, I don't wear pants publicly unless I'm working out or cleaning outside. The last time I had a job where I had to wear scrubs, I gained 20 pounds without knowing. Scrubs are soooooo forgiving. You need to wear real clothes to keep you honest. If I put on an outfit and I have trouble buttoning it... I eat salad for lunch until I can. Scrubs..... not so much. Also... this devil I work with is DYING to wear scrubs. She doesn't have the clothes I have and resents having to dress everyday. She has been pleading to to boss to wear scrubs and he said that she could wear what ever she wanted. She refuses to wear the scrubs she desperately wants because I won't wear them. And I will continue to not wear them... until the boss gives in to her demands... as he always does. These bitches don't realize that I make my own clothes. I'm fly all day long. That won't change if forced to wear scrubs. Plus... I am becoming a midwife and midwives wear scrubs. I need them for that.

Stop Rushing and Slow Down
I rush all the time. I don't even know why. I hate being late, maybe that's why. I'm going to stop letting people goad me into their schedule and do me.

Be better about documenting activities
I do stuff. And this stuff needs to be written down as I do it. I need to keep my journal entries better and more timely.

I'm taking a vacation.
I haven't been on a vacation in 10 years. I think it's time. I work hard, I deserve it.

Weekly maintenance.
I'm getting older and need to forcibly stop and take care of myself each week. I'm going to do that.

Read all of Zora Neale Hurston's books.
That self explanatory. I read a lot. This is giving my reading more direction. My vacation will also tie into this exercise

Develop a new exercise plan.
You notice I say nothing about losing weight? I'm 44 and think I'm drifting into menopause. Definitely peri-menopause. My body is changing, my skin is changing, my sleep patterns are changing after decades of consistency. This is a natural change and I'm going with it. No need to fight it... it's going to happen regardless of the effort I put into stopping it. I just hope the mustache will be light. That being said, I want to get into a habit of regular exercise. I was running, but that just isn't enough. I need to be doing varied exercise. I was thinking about a modified/ghetto version of crossfit.

Get a new job.
I hate my job. I do. There is no place for growth, I dislike all but one of my coworkers, I'm not respected, I'm not compensated well, I get no benefits. All I have is security. I've been here for 11 years. I meant to be here for 6 months. This was supposed to be my transitional job to get me back in the workforce after the year and change I was off because my husband died. This job has paid bills and kept me comfortable. I appreciate that. But that's all. I work and for that I'm compensated. I have learned very little that I didn't already know. I do feel comfortable running my own practice now and my patient interaction has improved. This is going to be the gulliest of all my resolutions... but I hate this job so much... If I haven't found another by 2016... I'm quitting.

The thing about resolutions.... You should (a) make sure they are appropriate for you and your life. Don't ask for something you aren't ready to receive. You say you want to start dating but you haven't worked out the kinks with your baby mama/father. Or you want to lose weight but you can't afford the new wardrobe. Stuff like that. (b) Recognize that change is not going to happen overnight. If you quit smoking 1/1.... there is a 90% possibility that you will fail. But that doesn't mean you don't keep trying. The McClurkin song “we fall down, but we get up” is ringing in my head right now. Re-evaluate your resolutions at the end of the year... not when you mess up. (c) Make your resolutions doable. Don't say you are going to sprout wings and fly unless your a bird.

Do these with your resolutions and you will find yourself more refined by the end of the year.


Peace!

XMas???

Peace!


I hate when I look on my newsfeed and see posts that wish the readers a happy holiday. Just to be ironic and hypocritical, I decided that I would do one....

Today is a big holiday for the christians. Today is the day they give gifts to each other to celebrate an arbitrary date they chose for the birth of their mystery's god. Yay!!!!! Jesus may be the reason for the season, but the season is driven by capitalism.

But what do Gods and Earths do today????

We chill. I get paid for not working today and I'm gonna chill for the entire 8 hours. I might do another clarifying treatment on my hair. I bought some Chinese food for dinner, so I don't have to cook and Precise and I are going to watch movies all day. I might go out tomorrow and partake in the afterparty sales. I need a clarisonic and some over the knee Black boots. We shall see what's on sale.


Happy Paid Vacation to y'all, and to all a good night!



Peace

Dauntless vs. the Babies

Peace.

Are ya'll as tired of these police assisted homicides as I am?

Yo... I hate cops. Not because of any personal issues I've had with cops. I'm not a criminal. I have no fear of cops. But cops have never done me a solid either. No cop has ever stopped me from being robbed. Though they will show up after the fact and tell me what I did wrong. And not ever attempt to look for the thieves. I've had cops give me tickets. I've had cops follow me and detain me because of their suspicions based on where they thought I should be. But I have never received justice at the hands of cops....

This thing that is truly irking me is the police reaction to the protests. Why are they having “feelings”? People in the US don't get to have “feelings” about their jobs. If you don't like your job.... quit. Most of us are “at will” employees anyway. The rest of us working non-cops just suck up the unpleasantness and keep it moving. I find it ridiculously unprofessional that these people who are paid with taxpayer money are protesting back.

I have a job that is at times unpleasant. I work in healthcare and there are lots of people who can't get what they want or don't want to be asked for money and get rowdy about it. Do I get rowdy back? No I don't. I smile and send their asses to collection. If I get gansta and respond back in kind, I lose my job. But for some reason cops are exempt from this process. I don't give a half of a fuck about how cops "feel." They need to protect these protesters because that's THEIR job.

This situation so reminds me of the movie Divergent. The Dauntless group is the police and they have been brainwashed to think that it cool to exterminate an entire faction. The devil always tells on himself. Somebody.... like their bosses... needs to sit down with the cops and have a come-to-jesus moment. Let these jokers know that we are not at war and you just can't be shooting folks because they are Black. But these cops are talking back to the boss. All cops serve at the pleasure of the mayor. You don't get to tell your boss to kiss your ass.

Geraldo Herrera and his ilk needs to have SEVERAL seats talking about Black people are at fault because we are scary or because we wear hoodies. That dog don't hunt. (a) that's inaccurate and (b) its a stupid cop-out. They see a Black person and get scared? We can't stop being Black. Big tall men can't stop doing that either. Their women don't seem scared to be around our Black rich. I suppose money makes one less scary. Maybe poor Black people are scary. But we aren't so scary that we can't clean your homes and watch your kids. White use that excuse when they don't want to do right.

Example.... I took a belly dancing class a few years ago. It was something I had always wanted to do. Try as I might, I couldn't find a Black teacher. And there is a big belly dancing community in Atlanta. So I found a beginners class that had several Black students, including a few personal friends. The instructor took my cash money for the class and that was the last interaction I had with her until the class was over. I struggled with the class... shattering the myth that all Black people are born dancers... and whenever I tried to get some help from the instructor she pushed me off. At the end of the class, the students were sitting around talking. They asked me what class I was taking next. I said none. I had tried it and didn't like they experience. The instructor heard me and said that I should take another teachers class. I asked why? She said that I scared her and that's why she shied away from me. I looked at her for a moment and asked her, “Why?” she said I was scary looking. I asked her “Why weren't you afraid to take my money?” and then when she couldn't answer that I said,”If I'm so scary, maybe you need to walk away now that I KNOW you purposefully beat me for $80.” Me... a 5'3.75” female. This chick had 4” on me in height. Plus we were in a white community. If she called the cops they would actually show up.

Switching gears a bit.... I feel sorry for this current generation of young people. This level of racism must be a hard pill for them to swallow. My parents were part of the civil rights era. They grew up in the south with all the Jim Crow restrictions. My parents never considered themselves the same as white people. I'm not saying they considered themselves less than white folks; but they knew that there were differences and that said differences would never be reconciled. They only wanted the opportunities that white people afforded themselves and because they were...and still are …. in power, deny Black people. Older Black people's philosophy was... “Just give us a chance to live like human beings.”

My generation was raised knowing that the doors had been opened and that we could walk in and demand a seat at any table. I did. And many of my contemporaries did. Those that didn't, chose not to... and that is okay too. Folks should be able to make choices that satisfy them. That's Equality. But never have I ever considered myself the same as a white person. My parents told me of their seperate-but-equal experiences... I have had my own interactions with white people. They are different. I have never aspired to be like one of them. But this current generation of children under 30 didn't get that memo.

I've had many jobs, and one of them was an 8th grade history teacher. These Original children don't see themselves as different from white folks. They see themselves as the exact same. They like white music and dress as they do. I'm not used to seeing Black children mimic and emulate white stars. It has to be a slap in their faces to see how white folks are behaving now. For me, these current events don't surprise me. I don't trust white people at all. I have 'pets' but they are 1 per situation and that's as far as it goes. I don't invite white people to my home. I chose to not live near them. These children are not taught to deal with adversity, so they don't have a clue what to do other than assemble and march. They don't have an idea how to exist without their pale friends. They're too close. The thought of truly boycotting white folks is as drastic as cutting off a limb. And that's our fault.

We have done a piss poor job in educating our children on how the devil does. We can't point to something that happened 100 years ago and expect them to have a visceral reaction. Slavery offends me, but it only embarrasses these young people. In another generation, it will be forgotten all together. I am incensed that my parents and old people had to live under Jim Crow.... that's my mama and daddy!!!!.... but this younger generation has no clue what Jim Crow actually means. It's not taught in schools (I taught it and the administration got mad) and without that bit of crucial information the civil rights era become confusing and irrelevant for these kids. Talking about it only in February is not effective. Ask a 12 year old Black child who was MLK and what did he do. they will answer, "He freed the slaves." SMH....

As always... I strive not to complain for complaining sake. But I have discussed this in previous posts and if you follow me, I've already given my solution. I'm just coming through to drop my Cee....


Peace

I'm Black Y'all

Peace

I'm Black... not African-American.

I live in the US, but I'm a Black American.

Oh Serenity! I thought you was conscious!
How can you say that?
Are you a sell out?
Do you just don't know your history?
Did you fall in love with the devil?

No.... I'm clear on who I am... and what I am. And that is a Black person living in America, with American citizenship.

I get that the US has no love for the people of color. It's not that they have no use for POC's; they just don't love us. They need and want us to be their servants... cook their food, clean their homes, cut their grass, raise their children, etc. they just don't like for us to have ambitions and aspirations of better lives. Devils seem to think that we aspire to be like them. That's not accurate. We aspire to have nice things... that is a normal human desire to do better than you were previously. It's evolution. Their problem is when left to our own devices, we CAN achieve these things on our own... then we breeze right passed them. You can't outdo Black people. If you research race riots in this country the story is ALWAYS the same. Black folks, with no aid from white people had a lifestyle that poorer white people felt was undeserving. Not because the Black people didn't earn it, but because they, the white people, hadn't. Never mind Black people paid for it themselves... built it themselves. American mentality is that Black folks should never be in a better position than any white person or the white people will attack.... and get away with it. Let that sink in.

Remember that scene in Roots the 2nd Generation, when white folks broke into Haley's father's home he shared with Irene Cara? White folks were shocked that a Black man... even though educated and hard working... had possessions that surpassed their own. And I mean something as simple as multiple sheets on the bed. Those people trashed the house not because they were mad with Haley's dad. But because they recognized that he was more civilized than they were. Ala 8:14.

When I say I'm not African... well... I'm not. I have researched my genealogy and realized that at least 10 generations of my family on both sides were born here... worked here... died here and are buried here. That makes me an American. When I was a resident, I would never call Black people African American on rounds. Every time I said something like, “44 year old Black male presents with....” All of the non-Black people would cringe a little. I never noticed (because I didn't care) until someone asked me why don't I use the designation “African American”? I said because I'm not African. The said “Well your people come from Africa.” I replied, “Don't all people eventually come from Africa?” Then a whole lot of arguments ensued to convince me to accept the label. I listened... really the nerve of folks who want me to accept who they say I am.... Finally all I had to say to end the conversation was, “My grandmother's grandmother was born in this country. Who else in this room can say that?” The only person in the room to raise their hand was the other Black woman in the program. Apparently my 'American Express' card has more 'member since' years than their did.

People who live in Africa don't see themselves as Africans first. Africa is a continent. They see themselves as members of the country they are from/live in. People from Nigeria are Nigerians. People from Kenya are Kenyans. People from Ethiopia are Ethiopians. There is no country called “Africa.”

Contrary to what's hot in the streets, American Black people cannot pinpoint where we are from. Because bloodlines where not kept pure during slavery or since. People from all over the CONTINENT of Africa were mixed. Slave holders didn't say, “I only want slaves from Nigeria!” or “My plantation only works Ghanaians.” Once slaves got off the ship... They were just slaves. White folks didn't care. Well maybe the rice growing plantations did care. They wanted slaves from Sierra Leone, because they were already familiar with growing rice and making dyes. When folks do that DNA test to find out where they are from, they find out they are from a lot of places.

This is a profound reason for me declaring that I'm not African.... Why are Black people in this country? Slavery. It pains me to say that the white man wasn't solely responsible. (And I really want them to be) Oh they get plenty blame, but they have to share it with many many African rulers. Google “Cudjo Lewis.” He was Nigerian cargo of the last ship to bring slaves to the US in 1859. Slave shipping had already been outlawed and this was bootleg mission. Once here, the government found out and put these people in a state of permanent immigration limbo. So there was a community of people in Mobile Alabama just living and chilling. Lewis got interviewed several times. The interview I like best is from Zora Neale Hurston in her book Dust Tracks on a Road. Reading the 1st hand account of how slaves where captured by their Black neighbors whose only motivation was to get wealthy. Those aren't my alikes. Their descendants aren't my alikes either. I'm not going to pretend that I'm cool with how that went down. I'm not claiming them as my own. I've seen documentaries where African descendants were aware of how their families came to have money of the backs of their brothers and fell no kind of way. Just because we share the same skin color, doesn't make us cousins.

So there you have it. I'm not telling you that you have to feel like me. I'm just saying you have the right to answer to... and call yourself... whatever you like.


Peace

Talking Back

Peace.

Before I put finger to keyboard to write this post... I had a moment. The nature of the post could be considered incendiary. But then I thought... Screw it.

Ever since blogging became a thing, I have noticed that blog comments only tend to be something positive. I KNOW for a fact that folks don't see everything I post as positive. Folks who know me personally will complain to my face regarding something I wrote, but never is that disagreement posted in the comments. I am guilty of this as well. I follow the if-I-can't-say-something-nice-say-nothing philosophy as taught by my mother. But that is not completely right and exact.

If someone posts foolishness... and you don't say anything.... then you agree with said foolishness. For silence grants consent. Especially if you will comment on something you agree with with and/or like. How is that being a friend? In my personal life I will cut any and all people who only want to be around me when things are going well, but when I need them because I'm going through something they disappear like the trader That confirms we aren't really friends.

What prompted this was something I saw on one of the sewing blogs I follow. Folks will use the most horrendous fabric to make a garment and think they look cute. It doesn't matter how advanced your skills are... if you sew up a garment with ugly... non-matching... cheap looking... fabric... IT WILL BE UGLY. But I'd never say to someone...”Wow. That is some super ugly fabric!” I have no nice way to put it other than, “Is that a muslin?” IJS

Another sewing related pet peeve I have is plain vs detail. If you have a pattern that has a lot of detail on it, you shouldn't use a highly printed fabric because you's never notice the said details. It will be overpowered by the print of the fabric. If the pattern is plain like McCalls 6886 you can use any fabric you choose. And my problem is I recognize patterns. I can look at what someone makes and say... “Wait, that pattern has ruching” or “That has a feature” and see that the said feature is obliterated by the print. But who am I to say? I'm not a designer. I am just a person who is obsessed with art of fashion and garment construction.

Since I can't speak for everybody, I'm a speak for me.... If I post something that you disagree with, I openly invite you to post your view. Just be respectful and don't be anonymous. And be mindful there is a difference between interacting and trolling. I have had people tell me I'm too fat to wear something I made... anonymously. I would have posted it had it not been anonymous. I had another response of I don't know what I'm doing when I sew. Okay. I'll take that action. I admit there are people who have been sewing longer than the 31 years that I have so I am open to constructive criticism. When I blog, I blog with the intention of having a dialogue with others. I have noticed on my righteous blog that no one says anything about what I post. I will get private messages from people who don't real know anything about NGE and assume that the way I do it is the way ALL of NGE does it. Well what do you expect newbies and looker-ons to think when no one ever disagrees.

I said all this to say.... Talk back to me!



Peace

Upper vs. Lower selves

Peace.

I've been reading heavy thought (not thot) books these days. I read all the time, but I noticed for some reason unbeknownst to me, when the weather turns cold, my preference becomes books that force me to think and consider rather than books that just entertain. I find that truly interesting how my insides work. Anywho....

I have heard at Parliaments and other places Gods and conscious people share ideas, the concept of Upper vs Lower selves. Gods build that they need to banish the lower selves and focus on the upper. I have often wondered when I hear these Builds, is where did they get this ideology from? I mean it's really crazy to want to banish any part of one's self. What happened to taking the best part? I can't speak for other folks but I'm a share my understanding on Upper vs. Lower selves...

When I think of the difference between upper and lower selves... I think of the chakra system. The chakra system was the first “alternative” modality I ever studied on purpose. There are 7 main chakras: 3 upper, 3 lower and 1 in the middle. From the 1st/Root chakra to the 7th/crown chakra, the order is as follows.... Root: tailbone, responsible for survival issues, sacral: reproductive organs, responsible for abundance, pleasure sex. Solar plexus: stomach, responsible for self esteem and confidence. Heart: heart, responsible for love. Throat: throat, responsible for communication. Third Eye: In between and slightly above eyes, responsible for intuition, decision making, and wisdom. Crown: right above top of the head, responsible for peace of mind. This is a very simplified listing.

The heart chakra is in the middle and equidistant from the throat and solar plexus. The other 3 are physically close to their groupings. So when I think of upper and lower selves I think of lower as root, sacral and solar plexus. And I think of upper as throat, third eye and crown. Why would a person want to overlook the lower in favor of the upper? Are you getting caught up in the connotation? Because last time I checked, I need to eat, mate and have personal confidence. Those lower chakras have survival embedded in them. It's not unlike the brain that has the “new part”: the 2 hemispheres and the “old part” the cerebellum and the spinal cord. If you have a stroke in the hemispheres you might not be able to speak or move a body part. But if you injure the cerebellum you might lose your ability to automatically breathe. Imagine having to purposely take every breath or make your heart beat... How would you sleep?

Why not seek a balance between upper and lower rather than striving to subjugate the lower? I enjoy base emotions and activities as much as I intellectual pursuits. I adore food. I love to cook and I love to see the finished presentation. I love the way it feels in my mouth, I love tastes and textures. The way it feels to bite through food. I love the way sand feels under my feet and the sun on my face. I love tho hold my cat and feel him purr. I love the smell of freshly cut flowers and freshly made coffee. And you want to give this up and tell me that's wrong? All I should ever do I study, think and talk? These same Gods who want to subjugate the lower selves are not trying to give up the pleasure of sex or even weed. So my thinking is they don't really know what they are talking about. A little knowledge is a dangerous thing.

Seek Balance. There is a reason the heart is in the middle. If you know what love is, use it to find a middle ground between the various parts that make up your own self.


Peace

Your duty as a Civilized person

Peace.

I had a horrible thanksgiving. It was to be expected. All my thanksgivings spent with my mother's family are horrible. I'm not exaggerating. There is something about thanksgiving that brings out the worst in my family. This is when I find out things like someone isn't someone's father. Or another person is in jail or has extra children or raped someone. The difference between this one and all the previous thanksgivings was that I was the center of the dysfunction. I'm very good at staying out of the drama. But I suppose it was my turn.

Here is what happened....
When I arrived to my mother's home at 1:45 pm, I found that the assembly there had already eaten. Not just eaten, but had seconds, had finished their desserts and were washing dishes. There was no chair set to the table for me. It was like I wasn't invited. I'm not one to hold my tongue so I asked, “Why did you eat without me?” the answer received... and received repeatedly... was, “There is a plate in the refrigerator for you.” WTF??? I wanted to flip the table Theresa Guidice style but I waited. I waited to see how long folks were staying. Maybe they had someplace to go and that's why they ate at noon. Nope. Folks sat and talked until 3:30 pm before they started to leave. I prepared to leave too. And they all seemed surprised. I live in a different state and I normally stay the weekend with my mother. I informed them that I came fr the celebration and since I wasn't invited to share their thanksgiving, I wasn't staying. That's when the drama started. I was called everything but a child of God.

Here are the externals (shit that everyone else said).... (1) Folks did not understand why I didn't come Wednesday. I never said that I was coming on Wednesday. Mother and I have a complicated relationship (more on that later) and I strive to spend as little time with her as possible. I do community service 3 times a year: mother's day, her birthday and 1 winter holiday. I would never have agreed to get there on Wednesday. Also... and what specifically makes my point... I worked on Wednesday. I didn't get off work until 5:30pm. It is a 4 hour drive to her home. I'm always concerned about my personal safety and wouldn't attempt a solo drive all late like that. (2) Folks didn't understand why I got there late. Well... no one communicated to me that dinner was to be served at noon. My mother likes to eat early but that time has always been 2:00. 12:00 is new. And lets be real... Who the hell eats Thanksgiving dinner at noon? That's lunch and not dinner

Now for the internals (my issues here).... I live in Atlanta. My exit on I20 is exit 51. that means I live 51 miles from Alabama. And Alabama is in a different time zone. It takes 2.5 hours to drive to the SC line. I live 4 hours from my mother's home. 4 hours! I am the one who has to travel the furthest, but they couldn't wait? And they knew I was on the way. My mother called at noon and we spoke. I told her where I was. It was raining in Atlanta when I left and hella windy. I almost lost control of my Jeep no less than 4 times.

The argument that “there was food for me to eat” was pure bullshit. That was all everyone kept saying. I let those people know that I eat every day. I have food at home and had food in the car. Every restaurant I passed was open fast or otherwise. I didn't need whatever foolishness was put on that plate to eat. There are 363 other days of the year and I eat all those days. The 7 doesn't do my family for the same reasons I don't want to do my family; They don't respect me. So since he didn't go... and told me he wasn't going... I prepared a thanksgiving meal for him. Hell I even had turkey giblets for the cat. There was all kinds of food for me to “eat” at home. Thanksgiving is about sharing social equality via a meal with the people you love. Apparently, I didn't make their list.

So why the post? It's not just about airing my family business online. As I was preaching to these jokers... I used their Bible's verses... their other argument (that didn't include food) was “that is between you and your mama.” No, it isn't. Not one of those people said “let's wait for Angel. She is driving from so far.” (And Angel is a family nickname and not my given.) If someone at the table just refused to eat, my mother would have waited. I hold everyone who ate there culpable as per Ezekiel 3:18. My mother has Narcissistic Personality Disorder. I'm not making that up she has been diagnosed. I'm the scapegoat so I get that she will never treat me well. I accepted that a long time ago. Support groups were helpful for dealing with, strategizing and managing my mother since I choose to continue to have a relationship with her. That's why I don't feel bad about doing the bare minimum when it comes to my mother. But the people there just allowing her to marginalize me is wrong.

I'm quite sure she told them some lies. She lies on me for the bad all the time. (She lies on my brother for the good) what kills me is that folks believe her lies. I suppose folks don't think a mother would tell such blatant and ridiculous lies on their child but it happens. Grad school was the good old days of student loan disbursements. I would get enough money per semester to pay all my bills. I'd be “hood rich” at the beginning of the semester and starving student at the end. My mother being unfamiliar with the process told her friends that I was prostituting myself for the money. Even thinking back on it now I can't believe a mother would insinuate such things. People must have believed it because folks whispered and some outright refused to sit next to me in church. I have never worked in the sex industry EVER. Word got back to my father and he hit the roof. Of course he came at me first, because why would my mother lie like that. Then he went to my mother who just laughed it off. She said I had money she couldn't account for and made an assumption, but it was a joke. (a) Why does she need to be accounting for MY money? And (b) why didn't she just ask where I got it from? I'd never witnessed that kind of anger in my father toward my mother. He went apeshit and threatened her life. After that he gave me $500/month until I graduated. He almost bought me a condo, but my mother talked him out of it. Years later, he said that she used to lie on him for no reason and it burned him inside to think that she could do that to her own daughter.

My mother has friends who close to her like sisters. They all want to see me now... I don't know why... they want updates of my life they want to be as involved with me as they had been when I was a child. But I cut them off. Completely off. My mother was mentally, physically and emotionally abusive to me as a child and they witnessed it and did nothing. I cannot care about them at this juncture. They claim it hurts their feelings, but again.... I was hurt and they stood by and did nothing. My godmother feels particular about this, but she was the closest to my mother and still did nothing. Where was my village?

I have scars on my left cheek and leg from where my mother cut me with a knife. I have a scar next to my left eye, where my brother hit me with a phone in a drunken rage and my mother refused to take me to the hospital because she feared what would happen to my brother. I have a palpable dent in my head. You can see it on an x-ray.

I'm not saying this to be all poor-is-me. I despise that in people and especially myself. This treatment at the hands of a person charged to love and protect me put real steel.... no adamantium.. in my back. Folks tell me I'm hard. I had to be and I don't see that changing.

So I said all this to say.... If you witness mistreatment of the people in your cipher... and you do nothing … say nothing... don't intervene.... feel like it's not your business. You are wrong and deserve to be punished with a severe punishment.


Peace