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Archive for the tag “truth”

‘Check Your Price Tag’

So I’m sitting at my desk fighting tears.

I have real friends who really love me and I know they do. I love them too.

I can be immovable when I want my way. Which can be a good thing in pursuit of a positive goal.

But on the flip side, it can be detrimental to my soul. When I have a vision– from the contents of a gift bag I’m making for friends and family, to a picnic, to a tee-shirt photo shoot, I see the final product in my mind and I want the pieces to come together and I bend and pull and stretch and even push others with me all the way to the finish line.

Usually my visions almost always turn out even better than I expected which makes all of the moments of discomfort and craziness beyond worth it.

My vision of a happily ever after with my ex, did resurface.

I was frustrated with my friends because they didn’t understand me, but at the same time they understood me all too well. They understood my laser-like vision when I’ve decided to put my entire everything into something. Some remained quiet. Some were more vocal. I didn’t want to hear any of it and I still don’t and it’s honest. Even for some of them reading the post, I don’t really want to talk about it.

He texted me within an hour of losing his job yesterday.

And what was I doing?

Thinking about who I knew or didn’t know to help him find another job.

He was a grown man, who never solved any of my problems. He never dropped everything to fix things for me and make it all better.

But just like when he got into the car accident when we were together, I hopped on a plane in a matter of hours and I was there.

He wasn’t even hurt. The car was totaled, he was just shaken up.

But I ran in. Captain Save A Brother.

He had a difficult childhood. Most of his life was difficult. I was going to be the sunshine, the healer. The one to make up for several years of pain.

But who was I to take that on?

I’ve had difficulties too. I’ve had deep pains that I knew were impossible for others to comprehend. I had secret fears that would destroy my sleep, tighten my chest and leave me gasping for air in the middle of the night.

I’ve suffered adversity and loss.

When I was in the professional fight of my life with a serious foe trying to take me down, he was tired of me always complaining about my job. I was being paranoid that someone was trying to destroy me and what about his day?

If that was my struggle every day, I needed someone to listen and be compassionate every day. That’s what I fucking needed. I didn’t need money, I didn’t need my ass kissed. I just needed compassion for what I was going through and a co-signer to say nasty things about the chick and hold me up.

Someone out there would love me enough to work through it, even if it seemed to them like I was paranoid. Someone out there would not want me to carry that level of stress every single day. They would want to fix it, they would offer to even go to my job and punch ol girl in the face and risk jail time. But they wouldn’t blame me for being selfish when someone is stealing my ideas, trying to discredit me and fuck with my money. They would be team Me all day no matter what.

I’m upset that I love someone so much who needs me so much emotionally all the time and I give so much emotionally, even when I don’t have to, but when I’m alone and crying at night, or can’t sleep, or can’t get out of my funk, I have zero support. We haven’t been together for nearly three years and you still got all of these problems. And I’m still willing to run out in the middle of traffic. For you.

Pathetic.

I asked myself today, “When has he ever come, guns blazing to rescue or support me?”

The realization was crushing. I kept trying to think of a time when I struggled or had a major problem and aside from taking some money out of our joint account, emotionally what has he attempted to fix on my behalf? When has he rushed to come save me, protect me and whoop emotional ass to restore my piece of mind? Even at the height of our relationship, it seemed his problems were our problems and my problems were mine to fix alone. Even the ending of our relationship was clearly our problem, but I was left to deal with the aftermath of it, alone.

He does not know how to love me the way I need to be loved.

I let the bullshit cesspool of dating that I’ve been a part of for the last year or so convince me the grass was greener. That if I had him, I at least had something. Two weeks ago, yes I loved his smile, how he looked (he looked good) the familiar ways he touched me. But there was nothing substantial between then and now to suggest he’s changed or he’s grown or he’s any better than he was when he broke my heart and ran off like a little boy and our engagement ended.

So yesterday, when he unloaded yet another problem, I did nothing but wonder if he’d downward spiral, get down on himself or drink too much and do something dumb.

Am I a fucking parole officer? A babysitter?

He’s 31.

I am a woman with needs and desires and hopes and dreams. I don’t mind giving and sharing and loving, but I need it back. I need it back like I need water and air.

I have no clue where my husband is. But I know without a doubt this world is difficult. I need someone who is just as strong if not stronger than me to help me pull the load and then pull me and the load when I just can’t go any further. I’m a woman. I shouldn’t be pulling no grown ass capable man and the load too, all the time, everyday.

So I don’t know if he’s just emotionally lazy or if he has real problems. It’s probably both. But either way, as one friend pointed out this morning, it’s not on me.

Me: He admitted he didn’t fight for me. I’m worth fighting for and going out on a limb for.

Her: So you should check your price tag.

Mellody Hobson Lucas would never stand for no shit like that.

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We All Revise Our Own History

I’m reading a book about the times throughout American history the news was wrong. Be it by human error or purposely to promote a cause, sometimes crucial facts were omitted or over exaggerated. Shocking. Terrible, right?

No.

We do it all the time when it comes to our lives and telling our own stories from our past. Sometimes we just don’t remember everything, and sometimes we omit facts purposely or add a little sugar on it to promote our own personal causes or to protect our reputation and ego.

In journalism school, we are taught that we are supposed to be objective no matter what. As you practice journalism in the real world, you realize, whether you set out to or not, your experiences, your culture, your gender, your race make you see things in a certain way, through a certain filtered lens.

If you have the guts, you tell your editors about this handicap/blessing, you gather your facts from as many sides as possible and your story takes shape. However, even the way you string together the facts and in what order you place them may still cause a reader to wonder and ask you point-blank, “Whose side were you on?”

So based on your memories and experiences, when you think back about certain decisions or certain moments, how often do you revise your history?

Have you blocked things out completely because they are too painful to think about?

Have you cleaned some things up to make them seem better than what they were?

Do certain things embarrass you? Do somethings make you feel shameful?

I say yes to all of the above.

One of the most common examples of revised life history is relationship history.

We could think someone was the most amazing, loving person in the world, and when the relationship is over, they have transformed into some heartless villain whose only goal in life was to deceive you, break your heart and do you harm.

Whether I broke up with a man for horrible reasons, or the fact it just didn’t work, I’ve taught myself to remember that there was a reason I loved him. Just because the worst of my exes showed another more negative side I didn’t expect or vice versa, it would be a lie to all of a sudden act like I’m repulsed by their existence on the planet.

I can totally be repulsed by their jacked-up actions, though.

Another great example of favorable revisionist history that men have down, is the sports stories from high school. These shining moments, where they scored the game-winning point in double-overtime, playing through two sprained ankles. Some men will actually have footage to back it up, and be prepared to watch it more than once, slowed down, then paused. Even when you watch the tape, you’ll see he scored that point on the free throw line, and not the three point line, while being double-teamed. It was still the winning point though!

I also love hearing couples tell stories of how they met years later. Their versions are always going to be very different. You may even see them argue about certain details, where one person swears something happened, while the other person swears it didn’t and it was something else.

There we go with those filtered lenses.

There are people who tell the most amazing stories (especially grandparents or people who travel a lot), they are animated and they pull you in with their charm and charisma. Even if everyone knows they are exaggerating, usually the listeners don’t care because it’s so freaking entertaining. And that’s cool. Usually people don’t mind that.

But when it comes to the tougher stuff like negative experiences involving family or romantic relationships, different versions of history often clash and an underlying truth that ties you to these people can be hard for all parties to swallow. Some folks can clearly see, feel and remember their pain from loss, betrayal, secrets, abuse or whatever, while others may have decided that part of the shared history no longer exists.

What do you do with that?

I’m not sure, because sad to say, truth and history are truly two different things.

Tomorrow’s history is today’s news. How will you tell your story?

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