When one door closes, another always opens...right?
What if you are standing in the dark, waiting for that open door? What do you do?
Do you wait for someone to light the candle?
Do you hope that the fire in you does not become extinguished?
Do you hope the fire in you lights your way?
Does God come save you? Because he never left.
I know this. Am always convinced of this.
But my breath has become bated, waiting for a future that might never come for me.
Am I worried about what my future looks like.
Convinced of what my future looks like.
And that's why it feels like its being blocked by skyscrapers, because I am looking for the wrong thing in the wrong place.
Smiling faces. Beautiful places. Mundane spaces for unfulfilled life forces. Of courses and divorces.
What forced us to become this way?
Will I ever be happy?
Will happiness find me?
Has it lost my address?
Have I become obsessed with excess.
Because I'm still too blessed to be this stressed.
Love and success.
I'm a mess.
Can I just have a minute.
Wait a minute.
This dark hallway...I'm still in it.
Showing posts with label my feelings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label my feelings. Show all posts
A Curly Girl's: Thoughts on Some Recent Events
One:
I'm love, love, loving Willow Smith. Her voice is robust and edgy and I'm diggin that she's already developed a personal sense of style. Kudos Will & Jada, kudos.
"Whippin My Hair" is a fun, fun song, with plenty of fierce naturals and heads full of bountiful braids, curls, and coils, doing their thing.
Someone compared her to Rih Rih. Sorry, but she may be better, especially with Willow still being so young; all she's gonna do is get better. (No worries, Rih Rih, you're still fly as ever!)
Two:
I saw the infamous "Ghetto Fabulous Wig" @ Kohl's. You can read Afrobella's & Luvvie's spiel as well, but in short, here's what I have to say.
I really am just appalled since my hair is so similar to that "ghetto" wig. So many Black women have to constantly deal with the ignorance and dismay that arises when you discuss natural hair, and this is no different. And the fact that they had nerve to put a Caucasian woman in it like having black hair is some sort of "ghetto" costume? I'm done. I could go on for days..
But most importantly let me just say, that the place where they really effed this up is the name. How many exec's sat around to think of this BS? Like if this is supposed to be a part of a 70's costume (which the gold lycra is trying to tell me), then why not call it a 70's wig (which still isn't specific enough), or just what is it, a curly damn 'fro. What is wrong with...ok really, I'm done.
That's it for now. I'm in a mo-blogging mood so if I can get my fingers tapping on my phone, I'll def have something to say!
I'm love, love, loving Willow Smith. Her voice is robust and edgy and I'm diggin that she's already developed a personal sense of style. Kudos Will & Jada, kudos.
"Whippin My Hair" is a fun, fun song, with plenty of fierce naturals and heads full of bountiful braids, curls, and coils, doing their thing.
Someone compared her to Rih Rih. Sorry, but she may be better, especially with Willow still being so young; all she's gonna do is get better. (No worries, Rih Rih, you're still fly as ever!)
Two:
I saw the infamous "Ghetto Fabulous Wig" @ Kohl's. You can read Afrobella's & Luvvie's spiel as well, but in short, here's what I have to say.
I really am just appalled since my hair is so similar to that "ghetto" wig. So many Black women have to constantly deal with the ignorance and dismay that arises when you discuss natural hair, and this is no different. And the fact that they had nerve to put a Caucasian woman in it like having black hair is some sort of "ghetto" costume? I'm done. I could go on for days..But most importantly let me just say, that the place where they really effed this up is the name. How many exec's sat around to think of this BS? Like if this is supposed to be a part of a 70's costume (which the gold lycra is trying to tell me), then why not call it a 70's wig (which still isn't specific enough), or just what is it, a curly damn 'fro. What is wrong with...ok really, I'm done.
That's it for now. I'm in a mo-blogging mood so if I can get my fingers tapping on my phone, I'll def have something to say!
Diets & Lifestyle Changes
I've dieted a million times, but I can only recall one other lifestyle change besides the one I am experiencing now.
I was 15 and lost 60 pounds with Weight Watchers. I was MY thin- 160 pounds; a curvy size 8. I felt like I looked amazing!
I was getting so many compliments and praises. My best girlfriend at the time hated on me relentlessly. At some points I ate only 800 calories a day, and was completely satisfied. I felt like my family was proud of me.
I FELT SO UGLY.
Low self-esteem has been my truth for a long time.
A million people could tell me I'm beautiful. Women of all races would stop me and tell me how gorgeous I am.
At age 16, I remember when I came out of anesthesia after getting my tonsils out, and my reaction, my raw emotion, was to burst into tears until I hyperventilated. My mother almost cried too until I became fully conscious and remembered what was happening. And as my mother and the nurse wheeled me out the outpatient center, I remember how 3 nurses walked up to my chair to tell me how beautiful I was. To bask in all my beauty. Had nothing to say but how pretty I was and moved on.
At age 19, a woman stopped me in a casino of all places, telling me she's a makeup artist, and hair stylist, a woman in the beauty industry, telling me how beautiful I was.
Until she passed, my grandmother always told me how beautiful I was, I looked like her. I look like her. Those "Hick's girls", the crowd stunners, crowd pleasers. Some of the most beautiful fair-skinned black women I have ever met, my grandmother and her sisters, my great aunts. I was a part of that.
My father's sisters, one of the most presence-grabbing, attention getters I have ever met. An actress, with one of the most full, beautiful faces I've ever seen. Lips that were just as full as mine. Hips that were full like mine.
Shortly after I lost 60 pounds, the man I loved more than life left me. I suffocated the life out of him, hoping he would give life to me. Instead he had some other woman blow life into him.
I was crushed.
That was the straw that broke the camels back. Life was spiraling forward ever since...since I realized he wasn't worth me. Since I realized he wasn't worthy. He was what he was- my man, the man I loved more than life, but only I made him that. I was not ready to feed this man my whole spirit, and I did. I left myself nothing but heartache and a bucket full of tears.
But who's to say who's lucky?
As I progress into a state of physical, and most importantly, mental well-being, I can truly say I'm blessed to have my full mind back.
I've relinquished some of the fears of my self-image. Tried my best to fulfill my life with loving friends and relationships, and I must say, I have, for the most part, exceled past my own beliefs.
I'm not perfect.
Before, after, or in-between.
But I know, progress is always forward-moving. And with that in mind, I can always succeed.
Minus 46 pounds and my heart dances with every color love. There are still some things I want in my life, but in time I will get them.
Life is an oyster for me to crack. Delicious, I say, delicious.
I was getting so many compliments and praises. My best girlfriend at the time hated on me relentlessly. At some points I ate only 800 calories a day, and was completely satisfied. I felt like my family was proud of me.
I FELT SO UGLY.
Low self-esteem has been my truth for a long time.
A million people could tell me I'm beautiful. Women of all races would stop me and tell me how gorgeous I am.
At age 16, I remember when I came out of anesthesia after getting my tonsils out, and my reaction, my raw emotion, was to burst into tears until I hyperventilated. My mother almost cried too until I became fully conscious and remembered what was happening. And as my mother and the nurse wheeled me out the outpatient center, I remember how 3 nurses walked up to my chair to tell me how beautiful I was. To bask in all my beauty. Had nothing to say but how pretty I was and moved on.
At age 19, a woman stopped me in a casino of all places, telling me she's a makeup artist, and hair stylist, a woman in the beauty industry, telling me how beautiful I was.
Until she passed, my grandmother always told me how beautiful I was, I looked like her. I look like her. Those "Hick's girls", the crowd stunners, crowd pleasers. Some of the most beautiful fair-skinned black women I have ever met, my grandmother and her sisters, my great aunts. I was a part of that.
My father's sisters, one of the most presence-grabbing, attention getters I have ever met. An actress, with one of the most full, beautiful faces I've ever seen. Lips that were just as full as mine. Hips that were full like mine.
Shortly after I lost 60 pounds, the man I loved more than life left me. I suffocated the life out of him, hoping he would give life to me. Instead he had some other woman blow life into him.
I was crushed.
That was the straw that broke the camels back. Life was spiraling forward ever since...since I realized he wasn't worth me. Since I realized he wasn't worthy. He was what he was- my man, the man I loved more than life, but only I made him that. I was not ready to feed this man my whole spirit, and I did. I left myself nothing but heartache and a bucket full of tears.
But who's to say who's lucky?
As I progress into a state of physical, and most importantly, mental well-being, I can truly say I'm blessed to have my full mind back.
I've relinquished some of the fears of my self-image. Tried my best to fulfill my life with loving friends and relationships, and I must say, I have, for the most part, exceled past my own beliefs.
I'm not perfect.
Before, after, or in-between.
But I know, progress is always forward-moving. And with that in mind, I can always succeed.
Minus 46 pounds and my heart dances with every color love. There are still some things I want in my life, but in time I will get them.
Life is an oyster for me to crack. Delicious, I say, delicious.
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