The Value of Self Control

My daughter and I have epic battles about her behavior. She’s an extremely bright, beautiful young lady, with…how can I say this…a great deal of energy. Our battles inevitably start because of her self control or lack thereof, which, as a child of West Indian parents raised pre-independence from Great Britain, I cannot tolerate. Control and order was the rule of our home and much like the empire – the rulers ruled and the subjects did their duty. 

 I sound just like my effin’ mother when I am telling her to “keep herself quiet”, which scares the crap out of me but also makes me laugh secretly. I was always of the mind set that I would be nothing like my parents and their “children should be seen and not heard, children’s emotions are theory not reality, there is no conversation because I run tings” style of parenting. But I have to admit – they got some of that right. Evidence: My sister and I – both very intense Scorpio women – have learned to navigate through life’s craziness with class and self respect in tact. (All opinions to the contrary can go read someone else’s blog! LOL) But really, while its true that we need therapy and that our shoulders are so tense that we’ll eventually need surgery to remove the knots…there is something to be said for having self control. 

Now we are an extreme case of the dark terror that lurks beneath a serene mask. And we both have applied much less stringent rules to our own children…in that we let them breathe in our presence and they can voice their displeasure with something about once a quarter. BUT we both instill the importance of keeping outbursts at bay, and we make those little fools recognize that we are the authority and we don’t HAVE to care how you feel. Sometimes you just eat shit and this doesn’t change as you get older. When you get older - it will be your Boss feeding you crap and they won’t give you a hug after.

Here is the thing…kids that do not learn self control, and beyond that, that they are not the center of the universe, grow up to be spoiled, self indulgent adults. They grow to be the panic ridden alarmists at work that hype up every small situation because they can’t be calm until the situation is properly assessed. They grow up to be the guy that has to fight at EVERY event because someone “looked” at him funny. They grow to be the woman who rolls her eyes and makes nasty faces during meetings because she lets her emotions spill into the work environment. They are the people who justify putting their hands on people because they can’t control their anger and express them selves as an adult should. They let emotions control them to the point of being disrespectful even to people they care about. 

Don’t get me wrong…we all have times when we lose it. I am referring to consistent offenders. At this point, at my age, I should know how to behave on a regular basis. And if I lose it at a meeting – I want people to know…wow for HER to lose it…some shit done gone wrong. If I have to put my hands on someone at 38…it should be unavoidable. I just do not believe that people should be allowed to be ridiculous because “that’s just them.” That’s a crock. That is an excuse. It’s an evasion of responsibility. And my daughter will not learn that in my home. 

Look, by no means am I saying that it is an easy task to control my emotions. In fact I know I am probably damaging some other part of me by not letting loose more often. And honestly… in my head, someone is always due for an ass-whippin’. LMAO! But if everyone let themselves behave like they wanted to at every moment - what a world this would be. Then the teacher who is having a bad day and doesn’t want hear the same question, from the same child, for the 100^th time…would be able to take that frustration out on that kid. And one day that child could be mine. See then I would have to get foolish in a public setting. 

My girlfriends and I talk about this often. I have learned control to the point of intolerance, and that is the subject of many jokes amongst my clan.  They all know that if someone speaks to me in some crazy tone, or if you blurt out something hurtful and then use the “that’s just me being me” excuse, I am shutting down on you for a good while…because it’s hard for me to understand not being in control of your emotions unless in the proper setting. I know, I know - I need to work on that.  But on the flip side…If I have to think before I speak, then why do you get to skate? Look if one of my girls gets into a once in a lifetime physical fight with her man and she calls me and the goon squad to come “deal with his case” that is one thing. But if she is a repeat offender that regularly gets in his face or puts her hands on him, and he finally decides to smack her back. Well then that’s her fight – because I am not endangering myself because she can’t use her words. I am not advocating a man putting his hands on a woman, but I won’t excuse her either. We are not kids. And while that example is extreme, we see little snippets of people without self control everyday. I know someone threw a mini tantrum at your job today…think hard…you know I’m right. And if it was you – check yourself.

This all came up because I was sitting in a meeting today with a very panicky colleague of mine. She was raging about some minor thing which is not unusual for her. And she mentioned how I seemed so calm. I laughed and assured her that I am always on 10 inside but that my upbringing forbade me from showing emotion ever, much less in a work setting. The client sitting next to me said “yeah you must be West Indian because you sound like me.” We quickly discovered that we were both Jamaican. LMFAO. She went on to say that people often confuse her calm demeanor for her lacking a sense of urgency, which I have experienced as well.  But as people get to know you, they come to see you as a stabilizer which is not a bad thing but it does become taxing once and a while.

Ultimately my daughter and I have very different personalities. And I want her to be able to express herself much more freely than I did. But she has to learn to be intelligent and respectful about how she does that. And she has to learn to manage me, and her dad, and our separate styles, because as I said…these are skills that you need as an adult. My sister and I do OK for ourselves, and I have really come to appreciate my parents for teaching me to keep it together by any means necessary. I mean would I have liked to have an opinion…sure. Would I have liked the pleasure of saying “mom – I’d really rather you didn’t put me in a purple outfit with red ribbons,”…well yeah. Would being able to ask a question in a room full of adults…like oh I don’t know…can I get off the couch because its 90 degrees in here and the plastic is making me sweat…would that have been nice…Yes. But you can’t have EVERYTHING! LMAO. 

Anyway – enough of my rambling. And I promise I will blog about any tantrums I throw just to keep it fair.  Enjoy…or not. I will keep talking in any case.

Cyberstalking

Been sitting here drinking and cooking all day. Well... seasoning and marinating meat and drinking. Watching Gone With the Wind for the zillionth time. And teetering between wanting my Beemer back or hoping they total it out so that I can get a nice, reliable, gas efficient Honda or Ford. Its one of those days...prepping for a holiday, rain, sappy movies, and too much wine. I used to do this with people...family ...but I am getting used to doing this alone. Dancing in my kitchen alone. And I don't feel awful about it, although it takes some getting used to.

It's a facebook, twitter stalking day. It's amazing how much you can piece together about someone's life because of cyberspace! It's also amazing how much you get wrong because the narcissist in you believes that every written status, blog, or "like" is about you. The reality is that life is so much bigger than you and what you see is just a glimpse. Remember that Good Times episode when Willona gets a job watching people in the dressing room? And she lets a thief go and discovers that she too is being watched when she hears her bosses voice over a loudspeaker, questioning why she didn't stop the thief. And then her boss’s boss speaks up as well much to the surprise and dismay of the first boss. Willona says..." How you like that...the watcher of the watcher of the watchee is being watched!"  My point exactly Ms. Woods, that's how life is now. While I am stalking, I am surely being stalked. And from multiple angles and differing sources. And as nosy as I am, what can I say but...Welcome.

The best stalking fodder is a picture. To quote the old adage...they are worth a thousand words. Nothing gets you motivated like a good picture of your friends at an event you weren't invited to, or your ex with his new chic, or your current with his old chic, or the beautiful baby of a long lost love. I have had many a giggle with my girls over some picture we found on a Facebook page or MySpace (remember MySpace!!!???) . I have also had to calm a few people down over pictures as well. But that is what you get when you stalk.

...Wow that was the day before Thanksgiving...LOL. I never finished because A: I got caught up stalking, B: I got too tipsy to type...because that happens in my world LOL or C: As usual I start to read back, decide I am crazy and leave yet another unfinished entry.

I am going with D: all of the above!

Anyway - I am posting this because... why not. Enjoy or better yet finish my thoughts...I'll be here talking in any case.

A Repost from 2010: A Rant About How I Deal

 So I wrote the entry below in July 2010 - read it today and laughed because shit doesn't change. I will occasionally post old things I find...because I can. LOL.  Enjoy - I'll keep talking in any case...

Do you help a man learn by being a lady or by being understanding/objective when he screws up? Or in truth, are you just reinforcing his behavior and keeping him from seeing the error of his ways.

I have always been the house diplomat. I want everyone to get along and to be comfortable. I look at the bigger picture before I say something or act/react in a way that can adversely affect my situation. That doesn’t mean that I don’t often make the wrong or selfish choice. Trust me my life is a map of choices that were not so wise. But still – in a relationship – especially with a man, I try to behave with class and grace even if it kills me. It is my job to teach my young lady how to be just that – a lady. So in situations when the average hood chick (and she lives inside me too) would go upside someone’s head or openly beef in front of a room full of people, I get angry but never to the point that I could be called anything less than a grown ass woman.

Who am I helping though? The stress comes out in different ways. I eat, I drink, I cry myself to sleep at night, I get on my knees and ask GOD why - then praise HIM for the fact that it ain’t worse and that this is all according to HIS design.

I never want to be that crazy EX- whatever to anyone. I never want an old friend to look back and feel that they wasted their time with me. I try to be a true friend and I want to be remembered as such, even when I mess up. I would rather you secretly mourn my loss, than be happy to be free of my tyranny.

But I do myself a disservice in the process and I think… I am not sure… but I think that I may be encouraging bad behavior. My thought has always been – if I “go off” or if I act in a way that is “typical” then my message gets lost. The problem is that I think that I may have taken that to an extreme that I don’t know how to pull back from. When do I cut people off? When do I just get to hate and scream and yell and get it all off my chest? When do I say – “you are acting like an insensitive asshole and I don’t believe I ever associated with you!” Why do love and the “big picture” require me to save people from the hurt that I experience?

Am I being smart and strong or am I keeping up the facade that I can take everything that is dished out and keep on moving. Trust me – I know I am well built and that HE has got me, but where does it say in my contract that I am unbreakable.

I am not really looking for a response to this because the truth is I am not going to change. I am just wondering if I am keeping someone from growing up by not addressing how they REALLY make me feel. You know like those mothers who raise these irresponsible, self-centered, childish men because they allow them to do whatever they want (especially with women) and tell them that the sun shines out of their asses! Or like these women that think it’s alright to have a nasty mouth and a funky attitude with everyone because their life is not what they want it to be – and no one checks them on it. LOL. Sorry – that was such a side bar.

Am I just afraid of being the total bitch? Am I strong enough to deal with someone I care about not liking me? I could just be a punk and this might just be about my vanity and image. Who knows… all I do know is that I feel like the same things happen to me over and over again. And I some point I have to realize the common denominator is me. So what do I do with that?

Forgive the typos - just free writing today.

The In-Between Stage

So I cut my hair off on July 3, 2009. Seems ‘hum drum’ to you but it was a big effin' deal to me. My hair was my security blanket. I knew what it could do, what it couldn't do, how it affected my moods...we were a team. My friends, husband, and hair stylist tried to convince me to cut it for YEARS but I wouldn't have any of that. I cut it once before in 1992...trying to embrace my inner Halle Berry circa Boomerang. I was so traumatized by that experience that I vowed never to do it again.  First of all I knew how to work my long hair hustle, and work it well. Short hair left me feeling naked and confused. How do I act coy with Dude X when I don't have hair to flip over my shoulder? Second I was 19, so who had money to be up in Black Hair Is every week to get my hair did. (Yeah I said Black Hair Is...if you don't remember them you MIGHT be too young to read this blog and/or not from NYC. LOL)  Anyway I didn't have the resources to keep it looking right and healthy. Lastly, growing it back was the WORST. I had no style. I looked crazy all the time and I wasn't comfortable enough in my own skin to brave what I call...The In-Between Stage.

Right now I am in a real life In-Between stage. So I figured - while I am figuring out my life, and growing, and screwing up, and being generally crazy...let's just go ahead and grow my hair back to really seal the deal. I love my short hair but I am ready for a new look and now that I have cut it once, and learned work my short "do" with confidence, cutting it again won't be such a big deal. It's like my life...at 19 I didn't have the skills, resources, or confidence I needed to rock my cut. Sort of like my early relationships. I got into things I couldn't handle and that I wasn't ready for trying to be something else or imitate someone that was just a construct in the first place. Then I went through the hellish in-between stage...trying anything to work a leftover cut (read man) while I waited for what I really wanted, or tried to get that “old thing” back. I can name at least 4 dudes that fit my real life in-between stages. Guys that I had NO business being involved with and NO chance in hell with. But I was feeling awkward in my skin and so I made awkward choices. It’s like putting on a bad wig or getting a bad weave to speed through your growing out process.

Then of course my hair grew back. And I held onto it for dear life because it was stable, and I knew it so well, and I could depend on my hair to look the way I wanted it to. I held myself back from change. I never ever tried new things.  I wouldn't even color it. I was the girl with the "hot doobie" in college because that was what my hair looked like every day…every day. LOL. And around that time I started to live my life in the same manner. I wanted safe and secure. It seemed best. It seemed like common sense. And it the midst of it I became predictable and less versatile. I was afraid to go for "special" because it might not work and I wasn't confident enough in myself to know I could bounce back and make a mistake work in my favor. I made the “right” choices and I always knew what I was getting.

When I finally decided to cut my hair in 2009...I was scared shitless. My stylist put my hair in a ponytail and chopped it off in one move.  No Vaseline. I still have it in a plastic bag. We visit from time to time. LOL! (But you know I’m serious right?) Well…short hair was hard at first but I learned to love it, because I was confident in myself, because I had the resources and patience to keep it up, and because honestly...being stable and predictable didn't always get me what I wanted anyway. I got security but not always "special." My hair has been short now for over 2 years. It's been fun. On some days my short cut makes me feel sexier and edgier than I ever felt with long hair - and I LOVE that feeling. On other days I miss being able to flip my curls. Either way I am growing it back because I want to, not because I need to or because I am uncomfortable in my skin. This in between stage is already driving me insane...but what I want is on the other side. So I will look crazy for awhile. And somebody who needs me perfect may not take the time to introduce himself. Then again - there may be someone that sees my vision and decides to wait this out. There are all sorts of hair-pulling rewards for the "waiter" by the way! LMAO But that is a whole 'nother entry.

Either way I am going to need prayer and patience.  Not just for my hair being "in-between," but for all of me being that way. What I want is on the other side so I have to do this - and sooner rather than later. I'm cool if you wait this out and actually...with a few exceptions...I'm cool if you go. I'll be here talking in any case.

House Poor....

According to http://www.investopedia.com, being "House Poor" is a situation that describes a person who spends a large proportion of his or her total income on home ownership, including mortgage payments, property taxes, maintenance and utilities. House poor individuals are short of cash for discretionary items and tend to have trouble meeting other financial obligations like vehicle payments.

I LOVE THIS TERM. I love it because I feel like I am house poor all the damned time...although I realize I am not. And I love it because it applies to so many other areas in life. You know ...like being Wedding Poor for those who plan these monstrous events but are 160 days past due on a credit card. Or there's Car Poor for the dude driving a Benz living in his mother's basement and dodging child support. And then there is Relationship Poor for...well that needs more that just a sentence. Shall we? Yes, lets. 

So I was sitting this weekend thinking about my past relationships and also examining some of the relationships I see around me. DISCLAIMER: Yeah yeah I know that no one really knows what's going on between two people and yeah yeah I know only THEY have to get it...yada yada blah blah. Anyway I was reflecting and I realized that in my life, on more than one occasion, I have been Relationship Poor. And I can also point out a few of those relationships happening around me. So what I mean by Relationship Poor is the times when I have put all my effort into maintaining a romantic relationship (usually one that ended up not being worth it) to the detriment and doom of other important relationships and activities in my life. 

Women do this kind of crap all the time - men do it too but not as often. We blow off girlfriends, miss deadlines,  argue with people because we are defending someone indefensible, and basically fail to meet other  relationship obligations because 80 - 90 percent of our time is spent trying to make something out of this "thing" that we already put so much energy in that we couldn't possibly pull out now…could we? 

Well I don't know. Sometimes being "Blank Poor" is a choice. Sometimes - like in my case...I don't really shop and I know that I should have more discretionary income, BUT my house is my sanctuary. So I really don’t mind missing out on some other things. Don't get me wrong, I don't want to always be in this position and yeah I know I still have more than most...but anyone who knows me knows that since I had a dorm room to myself, I have always made my surroundings my priority because I am not at peace if my space isn't in order and soothing and comfortable and inviting. 

Same goes for my relationships. I had a relationship in college that was classic Relationship Poor. This man's ego didn't allow room for much else. So I lost some friends, and I did the things he liked, and I didn't go to parties because "wifey" should be at home. (Bleh...the word wifey makes me want to spit. And I never spit) I arranged my class schedule so that I could see him. Real textbook low self esteem - my man is my world stuff. His mortgage, taxes, and maintenance almost bankrupted me. And yes, while he was not a bad guy, the investment wasn't worth it. 

But occasionally I think...sometimes it is. I mean it’s never worth losing loved ones or true friends. And its not worth missing deadlines.  But I do believe that in rare instances someone finds that person that is worth the second job to be able to pay for the "other stuff."  I think that sometimes people won't get why the effort is made and that's OK. And sometimes things may not end well and you'll lose the house you worked so tirelessly to maintain, but the time spent was important and priceless. Or it may turn out that you just needed to ride out this financial crunch and eventually you'll be able to have some wiggle room. Well I want to believe that at least.

Either way in this economy I think there are more cases of House Poor than I can even imagine. And at this time in my life - single female in my late 30s - the chance of me and my peers being Relationship Poor is much more likely. Because who wants to be alone. I for one am holding on to my dreams that property is the best and most sound investment. LOL! Time will tell.

Anyway - thanks for listening. You know the drill - I'll be here talking in any case.

Being a Grown Woman

So here is the thing. Most people are not ready to be grown ups. I mean we are the correct age and the proper height and weight, but the mind and heart fail to follow in a timely manner. The crappiest part about being a grown up is being responsible and being honest. And by that I mean being accountable for your actions and being honest with yourself, so that you can be honest with others. The truth is that it's no fun being grown.

Being a grown up means admitting that you're not always the smartest person in the room and that people of all walks of life have things to teach you. It is realizing that from corruption comes corruption, and when you think you're being covert...you're being watched.

Growing up means letting go of trying to one-up somebody that you think has done you wrong. Trust me I know this one well. I'm in a situation where I would really like to unleash my rage on a few folks but I realize it would gain me nothing. All the childish stalking, and prowling, and deceit, is actually useless. Any information you need will come to you. Most of us have all of the knowledge we need to make sound decisions, we just won't because we're scared. Any other information after that is just that...information.

Growing up means realizing that the people you judge could be you in a different light or a different situation. If someone looked at you with a magnifying glass - would they see perfection? Well not if they looked at me and I am not ashamed of that. So I let people look as closely as they want. I make no excuses. But I tell my story and let them decide how they want to spin it.  All I have done makes me...well me. And I am OK with the grown woman I have become.

Getting here wasn't easy. By nature I am a base creature. By nature I am the one who wants to fight to the death. I am far from a grown up inside. And it’s a daily fight to remember myself. I am no angel. But even when I do wrong I remember I am doing wrong and I am accountable for it. I don't hold others to standards I don't set for myself. That’s why I have a real problem with words like 'whore' and 'slut.' In the right light - most women could be labeled in that way. If the story is told properly...anyone can make an excuse for their whoring ways LOL. Look I make no bones about what I've done and the choices I have made...good or bad. I am open and I let people decide if they want to stay or go. Labels no longer apply here. But I had to grow into that. I had to grow into accepting the consequences of my actions. I had to understand that I could lose, and lose BIG, based on one choice, one lie I decided not to tell, or one truth I decided to reveal. And I have lost a great deal...but I gained me.

Being a grown woman is no badge of honor...it comes through struggle and pain and work. It is an everyday exercise. It is a marathon. Being a grown woman isn't a permanent state. It’s not a title. It involves so much looking in the mirror that you get sick of the sight of your own reflection.

Most days I just want to be 15 again. I want to relive the day I chose to lose my virginity and walk by his house and keep going. I want to hold on to friends I let go, I want to go to class instead of cutting school for 2 years. I want to go back and just enjoy being young and take my time. But, as I said, growing up means accepting your life and learning from it. It means knowing that life is about choice and that intentions count but they don't negate the outcome. It means knowing that 95% of the time, you are responsible for your own drama. It means sincere apologies and being honest about your motives…at least to yourself.

Today - I am a grown woman. Tomorrow I might not be. But I'll keep working every day. I have a young lady that looks up to me and I take that seriously. Thanks for listening...or not. I'll keep talking in any case.

Rambling

So much happened this week that my mind is overrun with ideas and things that I need to get out of me. It's still hard for me to do this because I am scared of who may be reading and what people may think. But you know...that kind of fear keeps you from doing things that you are meant to do and from finding what GOD has set aside for you.

At one point I tried writing fiction - stories, poems, etc. - because it was a way to write, be creative, and be me behind the curtain of a character. And I actually enjoyed it and the stories were half way descent. (Is that an adjective or did I just use the word for going lower...homonyms maybe...oh well I warned you about grammar and spelling). Anyway I could possibly continue to write fiction, but I find more satisfaction with working through my life on a page. The problem is that other people are involved so I find myself being...general…when sometimes I really need to process specifically.

I recently read Peace from Broken Pieces by Iyanla Vanzant, which is weird for me because I don't do self help and I back away from all things Oprah and/or Oprah related (Another entry but don't worry I respect her...yada yada yada) Anyway Iyanla really bared her soul and exposed herself in a way that made me relate to her. I had heard her story before but this was different...it was truly humble and it was an examination of how she got to where she is rather than "let me tell you how I pulled myself up from nothing." I've heard that story a million times. Same reaction...great story but it seems so out there and so removed from my truth. The story she told about herself...of feeling unworthy and 'less than' and constantly trying to prove herself, and of generational issues, was one I could understand and link to themes in my own life. It was regular woman stuff...not "I have crazy money now let me guide you po’ folk" stuff.

I say all that to say that I want to be able to process me without worrying about the fall out. I want to tell my story without making the participants uncomfortable...which is damn near impossible. I'm not trying to teach or preach or guide - although it would be majorly cool if someone got something out of this and ended up staying a virgin longer or having good credit based on me sharing some of my nonsense. People...trust that I have much nonsense to share!

Anyway as I was saying, this week was high on the Karma meter for me. Apparently this was my pay week in the circle of life and I don't mean that I got paid.  Work was hell, my kid was testing my Clare Huxtable School of Parenting skills, and my personal life - read "love" life - was well...let's just say that Venus was not in the Scorpio house of love and relationships. LMAO. All I want is a drink and a pan of Bread Pudding with that yummy creamy sauce. (I think a nice Port would go well with Bread Pudding) I want to watch Love Jones and You've Got Mail and The Age of Innocence on my couch in some sweats and a head-wrap. I want my mom to make me some curry chicken.

Sidebar: My mom's curry chicken is the BOMB! She may not know how to hug and talk things through and do TV mom shit, but she will sure feed my blues away and damn it, I'll take it!

I just want this week to end already. As always I am thankful for my MANY blessings but this week it was hard to remember them, and I hate when I am like that. It serves no purpose to wallow but I am sooooo good at it. Oh well - 2 hours to midnight and then on to a new week. I think I will settle for a cup of tea and leave the Port for another night. You know the deal...I will be here...even if no one reads...talking in any case.