Thirty years. That’s how long it took to me to admit that sometimes I’m wrong. I feel like I gave that up pretty early.
I’m not always right. Most of the time I am but there are rare moments when a playa slips up. Predictably, I would fight someone tooth and nail before I admit that I was wrong and probably being dramatic. But lately I’ve been self evaluating and with that comes admittance, ownership and change/growth.
Sometimes I’m loud and wrong. Continue reading
He dug his hands into my hair. Past my kinky curls, straight to my roots and rubbed my scalp. And I let him. I regret nothing.
During one of our usual ‘binge watch a new show on Hulu’ nights, I got a dose of a simple but overwhelmingly loving moment of intimacy. I was laying on his stomach when he, while laughing at some ridiculous joke, slipped his hand into my hair and started rubbing my scalp. Before I could protest about the audacity of him putting his hands in a fresh twist out, I was comforted with a moment of bliss. Yes, bliss is the proper way to describe how I both my spirit and overwhelmed mind gradually calmed down. Continue reading
“I can’t do this anymore, it’s over”.
“What?” I heard him properly the first time but was still shock from hearing it. My ears burned because of my growing anger and the emotionless phase sent through them. I mean, I was everything he asked for. Every day, I tried to be the perfect girlfriend, the perfect potential wife but that proved to not be enough. Or maybe it was too much. He rambled on about life and the current state of our relationship but it all went over my head. He was leaving me? For who? What is better? Who is better? What is he thinking? Those and a million other questions were bouncing around in my head while I watched my now ex get his things and leave. Continue reading
Your girl has been thirty for almost a month now.
I was seriously waiting for thirty at the door with the patience of a toddler. I’ve been ready to hit thirty ever since I turned twenty-seven. There is something defining about turning thirty. It means that you no longer entertain or deal with the childish drama from your twenties but you also have to GROW THE HELL UP (if you haven’t already). You get way fewer excuses/passes thrown your way. Nobody wants to justify your ridiculous behavior, they expect you to know better. You will hear people talk about a lightbulb that clicks on when you turn thirty and I’m here to tell that lightbulb clicks on loudly and it is dramatically bright. Continue reading
When I first started running through the streets of NYC as a beginning “distance runner”, I was intimidated. I mean INTIMIDATED. Here I was, attempting to run alongside people who made running look effortless. Soooo unlike myself, whose face consistently showed my desperation to stop and never run again. They were decked out in either Nike’s latest running gear or their infamous run club’s attire while discussing crushing PRs (personal records). When I ran by myself through my neighborhood, I was in my zone. My music was turned up, I breezed past the blocks like I was chasing the ice cream man and I felt like a “real runner”. But when I joined the group runs, I was back to feeling like I didn’t belong. Continue reading
Taraji taught me how to cheer for my fellow sister.
I was proud of her. I honestly and truly was proud of her promotion. She worked hard for the last 8 months for that promotion and I wanted to cheer her on and congratulate her. But I was in my feelings, busy looking at myself and wondering why I wasn’t flourishing like her. I made up a lame excuse for why I couldn’t make it to her celebration dinner with the promise that I would make it up. I wanted to give her all my love and support but I was standing still. I didn’t have any accomplishment to celebrate or fresh news to discuss. I was in the same spot I was in when she started her quest for a promotion and now we were on two different levels. It wasn’t her fault but I didn’t show up for her and it wasn’t fair. I needed to check myself because no one wants the jealous, hating friend that can’t celebrate her friend’s wins. Continue reading