The 2,555-Day Engagement

Seems like  I haven't worked on this book in the last 2,555 days...shame! I gotta get with it!

Here's the prologue for you, and to push me to light the computer keys up 😁

Enjoy!

*****

            A cool breeze filled our room as Luther serenaded us with Promise Me. Candlelight, music, and 800 thread count sheets made this night impeccable. Ever since Cameron and I met a few years ago at a Speed Dating event, my life has been just that – impeccable. Well, my own version of impeccabilities surrounded by a category 10 Tsunami. If a meteorologist had to make a prediction as to when it would hit, they would be unable to forecast the disaster that was yet to come.

Although brief, six minutes to be exact, we managed to cover a lot of ground. We discussed who our favorite singers were and when he said Luther was the man, I knew he was the one.

His snores were gentle as I rolled over to gaze at him. I slid my finger around his full lips and went in for a sweet exchange. He awoke when he felt my tender kiss.

“Uhm, woman, thou art loosed.”

“Cameron, stop it. Don’t start that kind of talk right now. Just stop it, okay?”

Everything about him pleased and annoyed me at the same time. The very first words from his mouth began a battle that he would never win.

“Listen, Monica, you and I both know what’s up. If you don’t like it, why do you keep coming back?

I couldn’t find any words to answer him. The words didn’t exist - yet.

“What you need to do is quit playing games and get rid of Mr. Super Sunday School. Why can’t you get with me fulltime? I treat you better than he ever has and you know it.”

How I managed to look directly into Cameron’s eyes and tell my truth, which was also my lie, was disrespectful. Sometimes I thought I was incapable of loving a man, yet I told Cameron that I loved him. He always said it in return and he didn’t have to. It always seemed like the right time to say it was when we were in my bedroom. A small part of me feels like he really does love me, which is okay, because all I can give him right now is a small part.

 “I can’t leave him. I can’t. He needs more time. Just a little more time.”

His expression changed to one of hurt devotion. Desperation and love should never reside in the same heart.

“You’ll be standing at the Pearly Gates talking to Jesus before he settles with you. Why can’t you see that, Monica?”

*****

I luv you.

Ground Wire

 

A ground wire serves as a connection and protection. It's needed for the proper flow of electricity and wards off electrical surges. It protects us from shocks, electrical shorts and misery. Imagine how angry you'd be if a short happened while charging your cell phone. Your Social Media presence will be affected and your cell phone will be BBQ qrill burnt toast. Oh, the horror.

A few weeks ago I rode to work in silence and thought about what I'm grounded to. What is my connection and protection? If you know me personally, you know God IS in my life. With my mistakes, incorrect thought process (I'll write about that one day. Eh, maybe not...) and everything long on wrong about me - God IS. If you know me personally you know that I love my daddy, weiner dogs, candles, writing, and running my mouth in front of a microphone. 

My father definitely was and is my ground wire. He's been heavy on my mind lately with all the "stuff" that's gone on in my life these past few years. With Father's Day approaching, and June being the month he died in, I'm all up in my feelings. And you know what? I am allowed to be. I just want to tell him that he was right! Man, was he right.

When I'd do a comedy show, I'd call him and give him a sports announcer play by play of the night. I'd tell him who was funny and who bombed. Of course I was the IT girl, I mean, I was, correction, am, Miss WandaLuv. My daddy was all in! I smiled so hard writing and remembering that.

He was my anchor. That's how I felt. My daddy was my anchor. I could travel anywhere, do anything, and live reckless in the streets of America because my daddy was here. He kept me grounded while I was out here flying like a free fool. Oh, the horror...

When he died, I felt that no one was here for me anymore. My anchor was gone. I had to get somewhere and sit down. It was when I was sitting that I became a maid to other folks mess. Like, ain't nobody got time for that.

At times during my silent ride I talked and laughed with my daddy and my Father. I realized who I'm grounded to. My gift is for me and I can still unwrap it and use it. My daddy told me to keep chippin' at it. 

"Keep chippin' at it, baby girl, just keep chippin'."

I can hear his voice loud and clear and I thank God for that. What I know for sure is that when I need a recharge, I can pick up my Bible, or look at my daddy's picture and I'm reminded of our conversations. Memories.

What is your ground wire? Think about what you're connected to and protected from. If your connection ain't your protection oooooooooweeeeeee...you best do some reevaluating.

It's just like right when you realize that you're alright. Yep...and I'm alright with me.

I luv you.

8÷24 equals

Time takes it's sweet, ever lasting, long  time when you attempt to rush it. The thoughts that run through our minds as we curse time are ridiculous. Asking questions that may or may not be answered, and then getting mad at the lack of the desired result can be described as insane.

"Ugh! Can you hurry up!"

"Why are you taking so long?"

"I should have been finished with this!"

"You are so slow!"

"What time is it?"

Time.Waits.For.No.One. Time.Rushes.For.No.One. Understanding that it happens in His time brings this realization to light - sit down somewhere and shut up. There are 8 hours in a day, which gives us a 24 hour cycle. If you divide 8 by 24 you'll get time that is specifically designed for you.

Why are we always in a hurry to be stopped? Life is composed of many moving parts that sometimes don't, won't and will not move together. We always rush time and then complain that there is never enough time, or, we have run out of time. 

One thing, among the many things that I believe, is that everything is as it should be. Everything happens in it's own time, regardless of how upset you get when it's "late."  8÷24 may not seem to equal much at random. Substitute the 8 and the 24 with you. Make it personal. Calculate your motives, movements and actions. Are you sitting, waiting and complaining about what hasn't yet happened? Are you learning, growing and glowing as you live and love?

The past few years for me have been filled with hot time. There has been action, more action and action that blazed. It felt as if someone poured gasoline on me, followed by a pack of lit matches and asked, "What are you going to do now?" My response was simply, "Live."

My 8÷24 equals a beautiful life. No more rushing time or, the feeling of my heart jumping out my chest because it is simply tired of me. I'm here now at this time because I am supposed to be. What about you?

I luv you.

It Was For Me

One thing we folks tend to do is make plans. Birthday, holiday, work, vacation, living arrangements - everything is a plan. Some are not very well thought out, while others are detailed to include sub-topics with bullet points. Plans that are made for two people, supposedly for we, but are more focused on one I.

Today, this morning at 7:42( an approximate guess-timate) I learned something that removed unanswered questions and thoughts. When God reveals His why, and breaks it down to your level of understanding; country-fied exclamation -  it don't get no better than that!

A few years back we made plans. While riding into work this morning,  I passed a sign that I previously took pictures of. I'd only see it when leaving the State  after visiting. I see it
more frequently now, so I don't take pictures of it anymore. It was that sign that God showed me His why. It was for me.

We made plans for us, that were for I, and the I is you, but it was for me. Wanda? What did you just say? Me is the one who didn't know what was in motion was already done. Today I know what the what is.

I'm the one who God chose to see that sign on a regular basis, and smile each time as if it were the first. I'm the one who God chose to work in a new State, even if it has been a "test" that He will reveal the results of to me soon. Expeditiously. I'm the one who God chose to encounter a few living arrangements before planting me where He wants me to be. It was for me. He is amazing.

Having faith the size of a mustard seed will give you power. Imagine having faith that can't be measured? We easily say what God has for you is for you, until we don't want to accept what it is. Is this it? This can't be it? I honestly don't recall using those statements, but I do know I've asked why, why, and how numerous times. When you don't see it coming and it just shows up - it was for me.

As I continue on my journey in this new season, I'm grateful that I see my blessings in the moment. I've had many blessings that I've never acknowledged and didn't even realize the benefits that I received from it. I thought it was something that I did. Yes, we have the power of choice, but it's rarely something that we did. For me to break that down will be an entire new post, so I digress...

Today was the best day ever. I say that alot, lately, and that's a good thing. Today I got the "IT" that I didn't see coming nor did I understand. The title means so much more to me than what happened this morning. To know that I am so loved and appreciated, in spite of the many mistakes I've made, deserves an oooooooooweeeeeeeeee!

You can never beat a natural high. Your heart thumps with excitement and your mind races through a field of beautiful dreams. That was me today. Beating, thumping, running and jumping, well, mentally because I was sitting down, but still. The realization of knowing it was for me and that I am the benefactor is unexplainable. Thank you, Jesus.

I luv you.

 

Something In My Heart

On Saturday May 15, 2021 a tight fist filled with uncontrolled rage made a connection with my face. That connection started the movement in my life, which has lead me to this day and this post. As I think about that moment until now, all I can and want to say is oooooooooweeeeeee.

This picture was taken on Monday May 17, 2021. I was chunky and although my insides juggled and felt like black jello, I was determined to be cute. Getting dressed up for work would conceal the fact that something in my heart wasn't quite right. Something in my heart had a small crack in it, yet it didn't crumble. Something in my heart lit a stick of dynamite that didn’t explode; instead, it forced me to keep on pushing.

If you look closely at the lower right side of my face you'll see a dark spot. That's the present that remained for a while as the result of a misguided Santa. What kind of gift is that to give?

The purpose of this post is not what led up to the 3rd round knock out, or to belittle the other party, 'cause yah'll know there are always a few sides to every story. The purpose of this post is just a small part of my healing process. See, I recently realized something about myself and writing this is that one puzzle piece that I don't have to force to fit. Placing it in the perfect spot removes the uncertainty and makes everything better than alright.

No, I do not want to go back. There is absolutely nothing to go back to. I understand that something in my heart desires  forward motion. I understand that I can be loved, that I can love, and that I can be sweet to just one somebody. Man, learning things about yourself is a personal doctorate degree. The information is only for you, and can't not nobody take that knowledge  away.

When I look at this picture I don't see sadness or even focus on the bruise from the inside out on my face. I don't have the dress, wig or the shoes anymore. I do have the earrings, the necklace and the heart. The heart that God has forgiven and bestowed with grace and mercy. Oooooooooweeeeeee...

This post is to let you know that whatever it is you're dealing with or going through, keep going. Save you. Preserve you. Realize that you can't want someone more than you want yourself. You can't beat a spirit. Everything shouldn't be a battle, sadness or miserable. Taking medicine in the form of alcohol, vodka to be specific, won't cure the sickness of despair. Ugh, that reads like depression 101 and who wants to willingly be depressed?

Uhm, 2024 has been real good to me. My 58th birthday ushered in a whole lotta newness and I'm so here for it. I'm here for me to love. Loving me allows me to love you. I know and understand that now. Revelation.

Something in my heart, something in my heart has got me hooked on me...stick around and allow my heart to get hooked on you.

I luv you.

in-ten-tio-nal

done on purpose; deliberate

"intentional wrongdoing and harm"

Have you ever said or were on receiving end of, "I didn't intend for that to happen?" Think about it for a moment. If that small phrase has never been a part of your vocabulary, count it a blessing. I guess its not drastic if you've said it after you burned eggs, or shrunk an article of clothing by mistake. We never intend for anything bad to happen; especially if its the misfortune of an act that directly affects me, you, or I. 

Intentional intentions are usually directed towards someone you subconsciously want to hurt, but didn't intend to. Hurtful words that have been rehearsed and repeated silently over and over, meticulously waiting for the right moment to intentionally shatter someone to the core.

Do we ever intend to assassinate a relationship? To the inner depths of its being? Yes.We.Do. We want it to be over. We want it to be done. Finished. Poof be gone. Still, the thought that settles in our mind after the decapitating blow is blasted, the thought that rises up and down like a see saw; knowing it will crash to the ground and cause pain to the person on the receiving end is, we didn't intend for that to happen.

I didn't intend to tell you I love you. I should have been more intentional and focused on the truth. Giving someone a false sense of belonging is an illustration of a malfunctioning character trait. A flaw. An intentional motive that results in you always being the benefactor is one of those, "I didn't mean for that to happen," scenarios. At least one of us is happy, right? And when it comes right down to it being happy is what really matters. It doesn't matter if that happiness if for self preservation within a relationship, right? Gotta take care of yourself first before you can take care of anyone or anything else. You have to intentionally intend to take care of yourself.

The domino effect is a prime example of intentional intentions. Hours or even days are spent constructing a design that takes a few minutes to fall. Think of the joy that's felt as we meticulously watch the design fall, piece by piece, continuing on until all the soldiers are at parade rest.

"It just happened," equals intentional intentions. "I don't know why I did that," equals intentional intentions. Making a choice equals intentional intentions. Big sin, little sin, everywhere a sin sin, equals intentional intentions. The flesh is weak equals intentional intentions. Is there a cure? Possibly, but most times we don't want it until the target is hit. 

It's easy to say think before you speak or put a plan in to motion. For myself I do, and still  orchestrate intentionally. A favorite line, excuse or half hearted apology is, "God is not through with me yet." Maybe so, but if you don't want it done to you, don't do it to anyone else. Will that stop us from hurting someone that we didn't mean to hurt? I can't answer that, I'm just writing out loud. It's something to think about, though. Intentional intentions...oooooooooooooweeeeeee...

I love you.

Does Not Apply

We attach and detach ourselves to life situations based on how we feel about them. Joyous occasions that we didn't physically participate in become a part of our narrative solely because the recipient of our fabricated tales become happy as we talk about it. We pick and choose which parts of our actuality to share, limiting the words that shame us and suppressing feelings that burn our insides like heated acid poured slowly on an open wound. Our friends and acquaintances view our life like an Oscar winning movie they wish they had the honor to star in. Lie. Deceit. Hmmmmm, harsh words indeed, but not necessarily needed to describe the art you choose to imitate your life. I chose art that I halfway interpreted. Many times I shorted myself and illustrated it one fourth of the way. It would seem if I was honest with myself that feeling of acid wouldn't have burned so long nor flared up intermittently. 

I never thought of myself as a victim of domestic violence. That's something that happened to other women. They got beat up. They got jumped on. They got cussed out, slapped and belittled. They were made to feel 100% less than the women they are. You're the pretty adjective woman that he fell in love with until that gorilla beast fist connects with your face. Then you become the adverb. Pretty ugly. Pretty dumb. Pretty insignificant.

Domestic violence didn't happen to me because it didn't happen on the regular. I got my first black eye when I was 21 and my second one when I was 48. Reading it sounds like I received medals. No need for flair or the description regarding the particulars, however one of my opponents did say, 

"The reason why you got punched in the face is because..." 

Negro, what? And that's negro with a short I, two G's and a short A. I will say that writing it and thinking about it doesn't hurt anymore. What happened during the years in between is not something I'll go into detail about, yet I remember the irregular, regular occurrences.

Recently I had a conversation with someone that opened my mind to my does not apply mentality. It wasn't that domestic violence did not apply; it's the hurt, shame, sick in your pit, shock and embarrassment that comes with it. How do you recover from that?  One negro, and that's negro with an I, two G's and an A, hit me in my face while we were at work and then walked off. My coworker walked up and asked me did he hit me. I said no, smiled and proceeded to work as if nothing happened. Sick in my pit and holding tears of shame. Telling yourself your truth enables you to not allow anyone else to assist you with their lie. You're still here and you're beautiful.

My realization has been a long time coming. Each relationship would be different. Better. Make it last forever. Girl...well, I'm divorced, single, and I'm still here. 

As you take self inventory check what does not apply in your life. Is it there or not there because you made the decision, or is it due to someone else's inadequacies? A black eye, a busted lip, and mental gymnastics that are not sport regulated do not define you. Forgive yourself. Forgive the who, what, where, when and how. Live my friend...live.

The picture I chose to accompany this post was taken by my mother when I was 18. We were in my brother's room waiting for my friends to come get me to go to the Monte Carlo club in Niagara Falls. My father kept this picture in a frame on the coffee table that was in front of the couch he sat on nightly. He looked at it EVERYDAY and said how pretty is babygirl is. This was before I allowed so many does not apply foolishness to suffocate me while still breathing. The girl in the picture is here and moving forward. The smile on my 18 year old face is now in the pit of my 57 year old body. Does Not Apply...oooooooooooooweeeee...Ain't God GOOD?

I luv you.