Started a group coaching course recently. I’m finding that talking to someone (other than myself and this blog) helps me sort out some of the more tangled stuff. It’s also helpful to interact with people who are also going through stuff. Maybe it’s not the same stuff that I’m going through, but it’s still stuff.
Anyhoo, in our first session, we touched on grief. That spawned a discussion about loss and how it impacts who we are. This got me thinking about the losses I’ve experienced over the years, and I challenged myself to wrap my brain around them in a new way.
Our assignment after the session was to write a journal entry that answered the questions below. I’m sharing my entry here on Finally Felix because it took me to a place I did not expect.
What is your most significant loss and how has it changed you?
What is one way you can honor that loss?
The easy answer to this would be to say that it was the loss of my mother 5 years ago. Her death was the catalyst to many changes in my life, including how I saw myself, how I viewed my role in the relationships around me, and how I understood my own strength and perseverance. But for this question, I’d like to talk about another loss. This is the first time that I have written about this in this way…
One year after my mother’s death I made a new acquaintance in an online community for lesbians of color. She was highly intelligent, funny, and made me feel amazing. We started talking on the phone in May of 2012, and from that point, we would speak everyday … multiple times a day. We shared stories of our lives, made each other laugh, and boosted each other up in the way that friends do. She was very special to me.
But throughout our growing friendship,she never shared of picture of herself with me. No matter how many times, I asked. She always had a reason for not letting me see what she looked like … namely because I was married and our exchanging pictures was wrong (even though we were just friends). Similar reasons were used for us never meeting … even just for a cup of coffee or a walk through a local park. For a while, I found her excuses to be noble and protective. She’s thinking of my well-being. She’s keeping the lines of our relationship clear so we don’t cross any boundaries. In my mind, she had my best interests at heart, and I loved her for doing the right thing.
We remained in that holding pattern for a long time … talking every day, sharing every aspect of our lives verbally, but never meeting. And despite the fact that I never knew what the person I was speaking to looked like, our friendship blossomed into what felt like real love. I yearned to hear her voice every day. I sought her advice on many things, as she did mine. She was a part of my life in a large sense. For a while, she made me happy.
I can’t really tell you when things began to shift: when her anger over my not answering her calls went from “cute and bossy” to downright mean … when she criticized the way I mothered my children and spoke about my friends and family in the vilest ways … when her response to a simple joke or playful debate was to explode into a rage of tears, name-calling, and ugly accusations … when her reaction to me spending time with family and friends, rather than on the phone with her, was to shut me out or try to make me feel guilty … and when the only time she could show me she cared was after breaking me down to my most raw and vulnerable state. Despite all this, I made excuses for her behavior and continued to speak with her every day.
How long did it go on? Three years. Looking back from the space I’m in now, I can’t believe I remained in that situation for so long. But I can certainly understand how it happened. I was in a vulnerable space … and she took advantage of it. She was abusive and saw something in me that would allow her to exercise power, and I did not have the capacity to stop it, much less realize what was happening. In a sense, I supposed I felt that I deserved that kind of treatment. I was stuck in a place of tremendous guilt over the breakdown of my marriage, worried about destroying my family, feeling like a failure in every sense. She thrived on my defeated energy like a vampire; chopping me down and sucking up every drop of misery, and when there was nothing left … building me up so she could do it all over again. Three years … Three fucking years.
So how does this qualify as “my most significant loss”?
We had a “love and friendship” that devolved into something harsh and dark, but the aftermath of it gave me insight I did not have before. It absolutely changed me, and here is what I learned:
The best thing I can do to honor the lost relationship that led me to this understanding is to continue moving forward in this same way. Out of darkness and into light.
Another thing, I can do is to forgive her. A brilliant person once told me that forgiveness is not saying that what the other person did is OK. It’s not acceptance, quite the contrary. Forgiveness is release. It’s when you let go of the bitterness, anger, feelings of betrayal, your desire for vindication, and even your need to understand why someone would treat you so badly. You release them unto their own karmic consequence and in turn, you release their hold on you.
Freedom in the best possible sense.
These first tentative years of being gay as hell have come with a mixed bag of emotions and experiences for me. As I have moved into a space of acceptance and comfort in who I am, so much has changed.
Physically, I certainly don’t look like the same woman who stared at herself in the mirror 5 years ago, dumbstruck at the realization that she was indeed having romantic feelings about another woman. My straight, shoulder length hair is gone — replaced by a close-cropped natural cut and carefree curls that do whatever the hell they want.
My clothing has morphed from decidedly modest skirts and feminine pumps to skinny pants, layered, oversized tops, Chucks, loafers and even combat boots. A style statement that says that I can be professional, comfortable and damn sexy at the same time. I feel good in my own skin…and for the first time in my life, I don’t care what anyone thinks about how I look.
Mentally, I’m more confident in who I am and the decisions I’m making every day. My life is mine.. finally. Many people won’t understand what that means. Clearly no one was holding me hostage or forcing me to live this married-with-children life against my will. But societal expectation, compounded by guilt, and weighed down by shame and fear is a heavy, heavy load. I am not proud of how long it has taken me to crawl from underneath that weight and stand in my own truth. But now that I’m here, I can’t go back.
I sometimes wonder what my life would be like if I had embraced who I was at a younger age. Oh clearly, there were signs that I was gay as hell, even as a teenager. I’ve always thought women were beautiful … appreciated this one’s smile, admired that one’s curves, ran my eyes slowly up another one’s legs. But if I sometimes found myself fantasizing about breasts as I drifted to sleep or wondering what it would be like to kiss feminine lips — slowly and deeply like I kissed my boyfriend’s — I quickly brushed it aside. My thinking was that all girls must have those thoughts about other girls. Funny that even as I assumed those feelings were shared by all girls, I never brought them up to my girlfriends. We just didn’t talk about stuff like that back then.
The bottom line was this: I was supposed to have boyfriends and get married and have babies and live happily ever after…because that’s what I was supposed to do. So that’s what I did.
And now, here I am. Adjusting the collar of this new suit. Letting my skin get accustomed to the fabric. Stretching it out in just the right places. And everyday, loving the way it feels more and more.
I’ve been talking about the 2016 Sweet Peach Soiree for most of the year now. The event finally happened on October 15th, so how would it look if I just left you hanging and never told you how it went?
In short…it was AMAZING. Our incomparable host was the epitome of professional and what an amazing talent! She blew us away with passionate words, raw humor, and a genuine warmth that permeated the entire room. If you’ve never seen Georgia Me perform, do yourself a favor and make that happen asap!
And because she was such an amazing host, she surprised us with a mini entourage that included other incredibly-talented spoken word artists, including Rewop — check out the name in reverse — the brainchild behind The Coochie Chronicles, who wowed us with a very grown and sexy performance.
Not only were we blessed by the poetic talent in the room, but our panelists dropped so much knowledge, they left all of us breathless. We talked about healing from trauma, the importance of sexual health education in our community, ways to empower ourselves with knowledge, refilling our spiritual and emotional cups, and so much more. That deep and heartfelt discussion extended to our amazing audience, who had questions and commentary that added so much more to the night. Not one person left that event who wasn’t touched in some way. It was an incredibly beautiful night of sisterhood and support … one I will never forget.
And beyond the serious topics, we had really fun giveaways, delicious food and drinks, and a very special piñata. You can read all about the night, watch video, and check out some pictures right here.
And in case you’re wondering .. HELL YEAH, we’ll absolutely be doing it again next year! So if you missed it, just make sure that doesn’t happen again, mkay? You will not be sorry.
My 22-year old daughter looks at me with a mixture of guilt and “but I’m grown and I can do what I want” on her face when I ask her if she was smoking weed on the porch.
I don’t have a problem with her smoking, per se. I do it myself on occasion. I just don’t want her doing it in or near the house. I have a younger child to think about, after all. I’ve told her this.
And yet, the familiar smell hits me as soon as I walk up the stairs and get close to the front door. It’s mixed with hints of Hawaiian Breeze air freshener, which makes me giggle. If you have to smoke and then spray inadequate air freshener to cover it up, your ass has no business smoking.
“At this point, it’s like asking a kid with crumbs all over their face if they ate a cookie,” I tell her. “Let’s be real here, I know you smoke. I do it myself on occasion … but not here … not in the house. And that’s all I ask of you.”
I’ve been busy these last few months. I’ve been planning a big event that takes place in a few weeks and, clearly from my recent posts, I’ve been dedicating a lot of time to that.
I think my last truly introspective post here on Finally Felix was where I declared that I was READY.. about to sign them papers, about to move out, tell the kids that their mama is gay as hell. Ready to scream it from the rooftops!
This life doesn’t always work that way, and yes, I am still here. Further than I was, but still in the house. And it just hit me that I told my oldest child to be real. My children have never seen their real mother. Never fully open. Never completely authentic and free. Certainly never happy… not truly.
And this week, the woman I love decided to seek her own happiness. Happiness the lies beyond the half-available arms of a still-married, still hiding, still fearful woman. I applaud her for standing up for herself, for valuing her emotional well-being beyond the needs of others … even if “others” is me.
I put snippets of my life here in this quiet, slow-moving blog so they don’t rot and swell from within and kill me, but also to let you know (YOU who may be here finding comfort or camaraderie for your own situation) that holding this façade together is not worth it. And it will not … CANNOT last. Parts of it.. and parts of you.. will wither, die and crumble. Your arms will grow weary. Your legs will tremble. And you will be left standing, smiling like a fool, arms in the air, holding aloft splinters of wood, while the rest of your perfect little house has blown away.
Rest if you must. Take time to breath and gather strength and confidence. But don’t stop moving forward
Don’t ever stop.
I’ve been working on this special event since the beginning of the year, and I can’t believe it’s only a few weeks away.
Doing the work of planning such a special night has been very cathartic for me. It’s more proof of what happens when we allow our stories to be a beacon of healing and understanding for others. That is what I try to do here at Finally Felix, and it’s what is being done everyday through the work of Rising Phoenix Abuse Recovery Coaching.
If you’ll be in or near Atlanta on October 15th, please join us for The 2016 Sweet Peach Soirée. It promises to be an unforgettable night of healing and inspiration for women who understand the power in sharing our stories.
Looking forward to seeing you there.
Two years ago, well into my own journey of self discovery, I met a dynamic young woman named Benir Pierre. As a survivor of childhood sexual and physical abuse, Benir spent more than a decade battling the effects of that abuse, which included depression, self-injury, promiscuity, and multiple suicide attempts. The healing process was arduous and lonely. She hid her pain behind a façade of good grades, impressive community work, and a love of God … while inside she was slowly dying.
In her early twenties, Benir realized that she didn’t have to hold on to what happened to her, and began to put in the real work to find lasting healing. Last year, she launched Rising Phoenix Abuse Recovery Coaching to empower other women to do the same.
Inspired by Benir’s strength and resilience, I have joined her efforts to raise awareness about trauma-recovery coaching for women in our community. October 15, 2016, we will hold the Sweet Peach Soirée: An Empowering Celebration of Women’s Sexual Wellness, in Atlanta, Ga. The purpose of this inaugural event is to foster dialogue that promotes healing from the trauma of sexual abuse; assault; and intimate partner violence; and addresses the disproportionate impact of HIV in the black community.
The Soirée will feature a panel of well-respected sexual trauma and relationship specialists who will help us explore the issues. There will also be poetry and live painting from local Atlanta artists, cocktails and hors d’oeuvres, special giveaways, and a few other surprises. More than 100 women in our community will take part in this empowering night of healing, sisterhood, and self-expression. It’s absolutely not to be missed!
So now you’re probably wondering what you can do to be a part of this pure awesomeness. Well, you have a few options:
And if you’ll be in Atlanta on October 15th, please plan on joining us for this amazing celebration. Hope to see you there.
I have spread my gay-ass wings as far as I can in secret.
I’ve lived one life in the open and another behind a dark curtain for years. That does not come without consequences.
In the next few weeks, I will talk to my children; make a plan to move out of my family home; and work as hard as I can to maintain some semblance of normalcy for my kids. They are caught in this now because I didn’t have the courage to stand up for myself sooner; I won’t wallow in that though. The days of guilting myself into inaction are over.
In my heart, I know they will understand one day. And I hope they will be proud. For now, I just want them to not hate me.
In the end, it’s all just the blink of an eye anyway.
…this is a simple, clean way of looking at it. I’m definitely more me now than I ever was when I was struggling to fit into a space that wasn’t mine.
And now, finally able to reach out from the darkness of my tunnel and feel sunlight on my fingertips, I’m savoring every inch of these last few steps. Soon my forearms will taste the warmth. Shoulders and neck. Face peeking out, eyes blinking from the brightness. Warmth seeping into my chest and caressing my legs. Finally arms outspread. Breathing air into free and happy lungs.
I’m SO ready for this.
I started this journey five years ago. Five years ago, almost to the day, I told my husband I was questioning my sexuality. The next year, I kissed a woman for the first time. She helped me realize that my yearnings were not simply a phase or a fantasy, but a deep and meaningful part of who I was.
I don’t love women because I’m sexually adventurous or searching for something I can’t find in a man (all reasons I’ve heard before for explaining my gay ass, btw). I love women because there is something in the spirit of a woman that connects with me in a profound and meaningful way that transcends friendship or camaraderie. That depth of emotion is not something I’ve ever been able to feel with a man; and for a long time I didn’t believe that it actually existed. It extends through my body, mind and soul and sparks passionate fire into everything I do. I truly feel present and alive and at peace for the first time in my life.
It’s LOVE, simple and clean. I can’t explain it any better than, that.
Stay tuned. Juicy, juicy details to come….
Black Women's Lifestyle Guide | Black Hair | Black Love
How to Start A Movement
Just another WordPress.com site
My Journey To Acceptance And Freedom
Black Lesbian Blog | Lesbian Lifestyle Blog
Life at the Intersection.
YOUR EMPOWERMENT COACH TRANSFORMING YOU TO YOUR AUTHENTIC HIGHEST SELF!
because it's hard not to smile when you're skipping
Just another WordPress.com weblog
All about Relationships!
Dark-eyed daughter of the sun...
The Home for Readers of Black Lesbian Fiction
Blogging while Black!
A journal of overcoming depression
City Smarts. Southern Charm. Killer Copy.