Takeback

'Member the other day when I said I was gon stop cussin'? I'm not. But I will stop saying "crazy."

What my Yogi tea bag said

Wisdom becomes knowledge when it is personal experience.

Update

So I am making a new commitment to myself to be easier with myself, my body, my stress, food, with my head. I went so see my therapist yesterday. Yesterday, and the few days leading up to yesterday were in the collection of days I call low days. I've talked heavily about my uber up mood days and dangerously low mood days quite a bit on this blog so don't act all brand new on me. You know how they say don't go shopping when you're hungry? Well, going to see your therapist during your low days is kinda the same thing. Figure it out.

She suggested, and I use suggested in the loosest way it can be used, I go and get checked out in a hospital. Me: Yeah ok, maybe I'll do that sometime next week (sike). She: Yeah no. Now. And that went on for a minute and I acquiesced (insert your own version of the drama that went on between her "suggestion" and my actually going to a mental hospital). Anyway I went, along with a dear friend who I knew wouldn't let me just get up and leave, and wouldn't stress me out either with questions and comments I didn't want to hear. And this is wrong but I'm still human so hey, I sat there and compared my "condition" to those around me and figured I was pretty ok. And because my concern is bigger than I can carry sometimes, I thought about how even during my lowest days there are others who...who...well, there are others that's all. 

I saw a doctor who examined and spoke with me. I told him about my out of control up days when I'm talking and moving so fast if I didn't know my own self I'd think I was on crack. And about my low days when I just felt...well..like...um... I told him about the simple things I can't seem to manage at any given moment. We talked deeper about blah blah blah and he asked me more questions than I felt like answering, but whatever, I was there. Then more talking and tests and in the end he diagnosed me as being bipolar II. Is it being or having? Anyway, it wasn't a big surprise. I had been feeling off for quite some time now but dangerously offoffoff for at least the last six months. Prayer is always a part of my day, so is journaling. About four months ago I started back exercising more, because I had fallen off. So based on my paranoia, anxiety, tears and quick temper and other things, I agreed to try meds for awhile. It's a low dosage, but let's just see. You know? That's a rhetorical question, by the way, please don't send me your thoughts about what you think I should do. 

Having said that, operation decrease stress is on. I tend to present well so I seem like I can take on more than I really can. I will let my fires burn and rush to put yours out, then take time after the burning to let you rest your head on my bosom and pat pat pat and all the other stuff we black care taking women do. Then, because sweet baby you have been through enough, I no thank you, your offer away to help me with my almost burned down house (if there is an offer). My "help" and "taking care of" don't honor you or me when I give at high sacrifice to myself. And in the name of what? That you will think I am a good friend? Person? Woman? There is obviously some payoff or the actions wouldn't persist. The cost, my sober self knows, is more than the payoff. So the meds, I'm finger crossing, will keep my moods even. My thoughts clear(er). 
 
So I have, even though a little reluctantly, gotten off of my beautiful butt (yeah I said it, judge yourself) and am doing something about taking care of my mental health. Truthfully, I'm proud of myself. I'll keep you posted. I always do.
 

Dear God

Thank You for this perfect gray day. Really. Thank You for a mindset to see it as perfect. Thank You for existing, living, breathing in my son. Thank You for Your love. My request for the day, there's a job out there that would have me blog about what I want to blog about and pay me what I want. Will You work that out for me? Thank You.

Seriously

Me

Just this

When I'm ready I will write about my day yesterday. It will be soon. I am well. I am happy about being alive. Happy is good. What a cheesy free write. But this is what you get. I must write though. Even choppy cheesy sentences. When I don't I get stiff. I start to hide. That's just my way. So this is what you get. I love you. I do.

Dear Lot

You don't know me but from time to time your story crosses my agenda. On some lecture, some study, some conversation. Now I can't truthfully say that I know you either as I am...after your time. Really I have only read about pieces of probably the lowest hours of your very long life. Those pieces though Lot, shape my judgment of you.

To get to my point, and so that you know, I am a mother and a daughter and in my years I have known plenty of fathers. My confusion (judgment really) is how you sacrificed your daughters for the safety of two strangers. I don't know any father who would do that. In fact, most of the fathers I know "wish a man WOULD"...Lot, did you see A Time to Kill? Maybe it wasn't an easy decision for you. Maybe it didn't go down like it was written. The maybes are infinite. Please pardon my cynicism, that's just my way. It front seats my anger at how women and children get pushed to the back when conflicting issues arise.

There are so many sections of this story that razor my female and parental sensibilities, my southern baptist upbringing, my Malcolm X for social justice, not to mention my penchant for alcohol, rap music and socially offensive language. See Lot, I would have been among the sinners afire in Gommorah had you met me on any random day. Perhaps had you met me some time before my meditation or morning journaling you would have deemed me ripe for destruction. But then maybe you would have thought me righteous after and hour or two over tea or coffee with me at Starbucks. After you perused my blog or saw me perform poetry on BET. Most people I know think I'm quite wonderful. Though I have my around the way girl ways. Bamboo earrinigs, at least two pair, a Fendi bag, a bad attitude (maybe you get it).

I am curious, in your conversation with God, why did you stop negotiating? Why did any have to die? God was a quick yes to all of your counter offers. And if there was just someone who had to go as sacrifice because of the sin, why didn't you offer yourself? Since you are in the sacrificing game and all. I mean, you for the world instead of your daughters for the men would have been a much better legacy I think. After all, you were already a hundred I think. I'm not being fair. Perhaps maybe all of this is just bigger than my female understandings can hold. I hope you have a nice day though, Lot. Thank you for taking the time for someone like me.

We cool?

Jaha

We'll see

I am declaring a moratorium on saying the following words: fuck, fucking, muthafuckas, motherfuckers. It won't last long. But for now that's what's up.

My article for Be Good To Women Day 2012

Happy Be Good To Women Day! To the women ready to let the men love and appreciate us today and to the men who love and cherish us. Again, happy Be good to women day! I will say though, without quoting rape statistics and ranting on health care and domestic violence laws not in our favor, in the face of the abuse we allow to happen to women, that today is “Be good to women day” I am faced with acknowledging my own conflicting visceral responses to the slogan and because this journey would be better with company, I ask that you do the same.

When I hear “Be good to women day” there is a part of me, as a woman, that exhales and wipes my brow like… “Finally, it’s here.” I mentally put my feet up, relax and honor myself, women in my family, my women friends, acquaintances and ancestors. I take time to accept myself completely. Enumerate where I went wrong and what I did right. I also admittedly hear “Be good to women day” as a woman in an abusive relationship might hear “Happy Valentine’s Day.” Like, “Yeah, right. Give me the teddy bear and the wilted flowers and smile and then go back to your verbal and physical abuse tomorrow.” And even though cynicism rides in the backseat of this conversation I, as a woman, mother, daughter, friend, sister, am honored. I already told you, my emotions were conflicting.

While I understand that “Be good to women day” honors and celebrates all women, I will speak specifically as an African-American woman. I am often disheartened when I see, hear, hear of us shutting down our brothers with our pointed fingers and those four razor words You. DON’T. Get. It! In response to our struggles, our paths, our lessons. When there are men right there in the thick of it with us trying to get it. Trying to get us (as if we are an easily gotten group). While we relive our abuses, health issues, family problems there are men there, hanging on in there. Thank you, brothers. Thank you. Thank you for having to deal with your own drama and carrying our load with yours.

All of that said, how can we create authentically honoring and celebrating women on “Be good to women day?” Well the creation can be an individual thing. One may choose to publically present flowers and speech while another may declare new resolutions to ending violence against women, and still another may use his voice, power and presence to protect, love and honor women. Whatever the actions I am thankful that this day exists.

Yep, it's Red Stories time again

Join me Saturday night at 7pm at Vibrations for another Red Stories. 7pm at 2435 Manchester Bl., Inglewood, CA 90305. The feature this month is Socks and there will be other special guests. It's Women's month so ladies come out wearing your big hats (not required of course) and yes brothers we want you there.

See you Saturday. I love you. I do.

My horoscope today

Intuition enhances communications of all kinds today, Virgo. If you've been thinking about doing some writing, this is the day to get started. Your mind is particularly expansive, and your imagination is working at a very high level. Insights that might not normally come to you add new depth and dimension to your writing, whether a poem, novel, article, or letter to a friend. Make the most of it!


Well alright then.

Alice the Poet's big hat birthday tea party (we fancy huh)

Photos by Alice the Poet, Reverdia, Alice's sister's husband, Somebody Else and Somebody Else. (You like the way I give credit.)

What I've noticed about myself

I've noticed that I seem very willing to fight for my safety but am willing to sacrifice my happiness. Somewhere I learned this. I think many young girls did. What's good about this learning is the unlearning. The conscious letting go of that behavior. The ding that goes off in my head when I whatever my happiness away for the sake of anyone, anything. It's the small voice in my head that repeats "I matter. My happiness is important."