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You Made Me Who I am Today, But if I Never Saw You Again it Would be Too Soon.

Hey Boo!

For this week’s blog, I thought I’d do something different. A week or so ago, I saw a post from a content creator expressing love and gratitude to the person who helped them elevate to their current level of being. It brought me joy to see the post, but it also caused me to reflect on the person who made me who I am today and that’s not quite as joyful a story. I want to share some of my story with you in the form of a letter. Here goes:

Dear “Deion”,

A lot has happened since we last spoke. It’s been over two years since we’ve had any communication at all, and I know that’s not what you wanted, but it’s what I needed. I blocked you on social media, changed my number and stopped responding to your e-mails because it was clear that you were still unwilling to claim any responsibility for the way our marriage fell apart. My jaw hit the floor when I read your line about how ‘if anyone was afraid, it should be you’. I was amazed and appalled, especially since it was me who was threatened with a steel pipe and chased away from my home on foot.

I won’t mince words- our marriage was a complete disaster. From the very beginning you weren’t honest about who you were. You lied about your age, how many children you had, and your criminal history just to name a few things. The thing about that is if you were honest from the beginning, I may have still given you a chance. I thought you were a decent guy and my heart went out to you as you talked about the women in your past and how they’d done you wrong. I had experienced similar hurt and betrayal and just wanted someone I could love freely who would reciprocate. I thought that I’d found that in you. But I couldn’t have been more wrong.

You looked me in my eyes as I shared my pain, vulnerabilities, and fears and you vowed to be different. And I guess you didn’t lie because you were different. You turned out to be much worse than anything I’d encountered before.

The first few months were blissful. You were caring, thoughtful, and attentive. You looked at me like I was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen in your life. You told me that you’d never met a woman like me, and you appreciated all of the things that I did for you out of love. You said you loved everything about me- how I dressed and presented myself, my intelligence and personality, even my goals and aspirations. I had written and self-published a book and you had offered to help me promote it on social media. I was so happy to be your wife. I would’ve went to the ends of the earth for you because I loved you. And you loved me too, right?

Wrong.

After the first few months, I never saw the man I married again. Your representative had disappeared, and I was left with something that you had actually never shared with me, your true self. You started complaining about the very things you claimed to love and understand. We began to fight a lot and I made changes to keep the peace. You didn’t want me working, so I quit. You felt like social media was causing problems in our marriage, so I disconnected. I changed how I dressed so that you wouldn’t think I was ‘trying to look good for someone else’. Essentially, I tried to become everything you wanted me to be. But even that wasn’t enough. Every time I met your expectations, you created new ones for me to meet. As I put in more effort, you put in even less. The fighting increased and intensified to the point of exhaustion. Sometimes things got physical, and let’s not forget the night you could’ve ended both of our lives.

It may seem like I’m trying to dump all of the blame on you, but I’m not. Although youdid a lot of very hurtful things to me, it was I who allowed them. I take responsibility for my lack of self-esteem, poor boundaries, and codependency. I acknowledge that there were red flags that I ignored because I was already so convinced that you were the one. I made excuses for you and dismissed things that I shouldn’t have.

During the course of our marriage, I gained over 60 pounds, struggled with bouts of depression and ptsd, and experienced multiple lupus flares due to stress. I was stifled, isolated, and miserable.

Outside of the passing of my parents, our marriage was one of the most painful experiences of my life. I’d never felt so broken, so worthless, so low. But it was also one of the most impactful. Because when you hit rock bottom, there’s nowhere to go but UP. And that’s what I did. From the trauma and pain I was able to heal and rise like a phoenix from the ashes.

And in some way, I have you to thank for that. The truth is, you helped make me the person I am today but if I never saw you again it would be too soon. I don’t wish you any harm and I truly hope that you are able to heal from your wounds and find peace. Because that’s what I was able to do and it’s absolutely blissful. Not perfect but blissful.

Goodbye “Deion”, and good luck.

Well, that’s all I have for this week beautiful souls. Until next time, keep Glowing…

Relinquish my Strength?! Uh, No.

Hello, beautiful souls 💖

I’d like to discuss something that has been tugging on my heart strings lately. Ive noticed that there has been a reel trending on social media about ‘strong black women’. In case you aren’t familiar with it, it goes a little something like this:

I am not a strong black woman. I am delicate, fragile, and I can’t do it all on my own…

There’s more to the reel, and I don’t remember the audio verbatim but I’d like to address the sentiment. I viewed this audio as a cry for help from my queens who are tired of carrying the load alone.

Being strong is a blessing and a curse in today’s society. When a person is strong, they are often given more weight to carry. The growing assumption is that since you’ve carried so much, you can carry a little more…and a bit more…and wait, here’s a little more. People typically don’t check on or offer assistance to strong people. And that can cause even the strongest of people to be weary.

Yet, strength is a gift. It is earned based on perseverance and is the by product of experience and wisdom. Strength is an invaluable attribute that should be celebrated.

I am strong.

I didn’t think of myself as strong at one point. I endured quite a bit of misfortune as well as mistreatment from people I loved and to be honest I felt anything but strong. At times I felt broken, lost, and out of control. And that’s okay too. A strong person doesn’t feel strong all the time. In fact, a person is strong because they go through painful experiences and still stand.

Strength is often appreciated in the hard times. In relationships I was often commended for my strength when I helped my mate with an issue they were facing or found a solution to a problem when my partner didn’t have one. But when I stood up for myself, I was told often that I was “too strong”.

What does that mean?!

The same strength that was admired and appreciated was quickly shunned and viewed as a negative attribute once I established some boundaries. That is not how things work.

That being said, strength is an attribute that I’ve earned and I will not relinquish my strength so that a person will accept me. I am strong, I am soft, I am fierce, I am sweet. I am human. We are human. And we all deserve to be loved and accepted as we are.

Until next time, beautiful souls 💖

Poetry Time: Can’t Find Happy

Hello beautiful souls 💖 For my blog this week, I’m going to share a poem that I wrote in 2018 and next week I plan to do a follow up on this poem. I do hope you can appreciate this piece.

I want “Happy”.

And that’s a problem

Because happy is unobtainable.

Well, not unobtainable. More so elusive

Most certainly fleeting

And definitely unkind to me.

It’s with me one minute and

At the first sign of conflict

It ducks out. Vanishes.

Through the back door

And out of my life

Without so much as a note.

No explanation. Happy is gone.

I had happy once.

I think I was about nine

My family and I were

Moving into our own place.

Or…wait. Was it my 16th birthday?

I think happy was there

During my first marriage,

Or maybe during my divorce.

I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure that

I had happy at least once, but-

Now, I can’t find it.

Gone again without a trace.

I reach out, but Happy leaves

My messages on ‘seen’.

And happy looks right through me

When we cross paths on the street.

Like an enemy.

Or worse; a stranger.

Not a twinkle of familiarity

In its eyes, but

I promise you;

It’s not my imagination!

I did have it.

And now..I can’t find happy.

That’s quite a problem.

Until next time beautiful souls 💖💖

Safe Place

Hello Beautiful souls 💖

I was chatting with one of my followers on Instagram a few days ago and I began to think.

He had shared a reel with me in which the gentleman on the reel was reacting to another man’s monolog. He was talking about how hard it is to be a man and how women don’t care about men’s feelings, etc.

Now, I won’t lie to you- my initial reaction was annoyance. I felt like the guy was whining about basic things that men do like open doors and pull out chairs…which, to be honest, I always appreciate chivalry but alot of men don’t even do that anymore. But then he spoke about women not caring about men’s feelings.

And that bothered me.

Which brought me to the very point of this blog: it is very important to have a safe place.

This bothered me because I absolutely believe that both women and men have emotions that are valid. In some cases, men have been brought up to hold in their emotions. They have been told to toughen up; that real men don’t cry. And that couldn’t be further from the truth. Men have emotions and should be comfortable enough to express them.

Men and women- if you are in a serious relationship where you cannot express yourself without judgment, then I strongly suggest that you reevaluate that relationship. Because everyone should have a safe place.

A safe place; in my opinion, is a person that you can let your guard down with. A person that you can be completely yourself around without fear of ridicule or negativity. This doesn’t mean that the person doesn’t disagree with you when you’re wrong. But it does mean that you can be vulnerable without being attacked. Their intentions for you are the best for you. They want to see you grow. They want to see you happy.

This safe place does not have to be a romantic partner. It could be a parent, sibling, relative, or friend. It is just my humble opinion that if you are in a romantic relationship, that your mate ideally would be a safe place for you.

As a woman, I am clueless to the perils of being a man. I have some idea, I can empathize, but I cannot TELL a man how he should react/feel about his stressors. As his partner, however, I aim to listen, support, comfort, advise, or to simply be there.

You are safe with me.

You are safe.

You are safe…

Until next time beautiful souls 💖💖 Mimi