Dance with My Mother

I’d be dishonest with the world and myself if I didn’t admit that occasionally I feel a sense of envy and hurt when I see the relationship some of my closest friends have with their mothers. They party together, gamble to together, or live across the street from each other. I can’t help but think that if my mother was alive, she’d dance with me at family parties; I’ve been told all my life that she could cut a mean rug!

Sometimes I wish that I could crawl up in the bed with her like I did when I was three and be vulnerable with her. I’m come along accepting this loss, using my poetry to deal with my emotions, honoring her with my pen name and a tattoo, and having a zest for life so I can live for both of us. Anyone who knows me, knows that I believe in spirit and that much like water, we humans only change form, but our spirits, our energy never really dies. I know her spirit is present, and I get little signs every now and then, but sometimes I just want that physical presence, arms to hold, neck to smell in an embrace. I even get the bigger picture, I wouldn’t be who I am if I hadn’t suffered the loss.  I wouldn’t have ever picked up a pen to process my feelings and written words that I can truly say have inspired others to write, reflect, or do better. I wouldn’t be the type of teacher or mentor who is on call 24/7 for babies. I wouldn’t have this relentless desire to inspire women and teens to take power over their futures instead of being consumed by the past. I know her time was limited, and her purpose was fulfilled in those 23 years (according to two different mediums and my own intuition), but sometimes it doesn’t make it any easier, and sometimes I become overwhelmed with emotions and tears fill up my eyes and I let out a broken cry. This is the reality. I never want to sound ungrateful, I’ve been more than blessed with an enormous family, surrounded by love and mother like figures, something I’m sure other people wish they had.  The older I get the more I come to understand the bigger picture, which is why 90% of the time, I can tell my story to a crowd without even a lump in my throat, but other times, l find myself wondering what would certain moments be like if she was physically there instead of just mentally. 

My mother, looking exhausted after giving me a bath

There Will Be...HOPE

Today I am 36 years young. I woke up this morning in bittersweet celebration. Grateful that I am alive, able and happy, and that I am on the right path, that I have great family, and friends and inspiration everywhere. But I couldn’t help but to get a lump in my throat for the ones who will never see 36.

For the ones who are suffering, 
For the young men whose world is limited to brick walls and bars,
 For the girls who are jailed by abusive boyfriends 
And as Maya Angelou said, “confounded by a lack of choices.” 
 I am choking on the words of those who have no voices. 


And the tears begin to swell in my eyes in the car on the way to work, so I popped in Mind Evolution’s CD (a poet friend of mine) and I listened to her poem bare naked, spouted her verses along with her as she bares her soul, flaws and strengths, and ending with “Powerful Black Woman, Capable of Anything” and I smiled. Then I remembered last night performing with a group of women at an event called The Women Gather, and I envisioned another poet friend of mine B Leah and her poem that always forces me to swallow those lumps. She lists all of the tragic and beautiful things that life entails, like BREATH, and her refrain, her refrain that reminds us THERE WILL BE...HOPE. I remembered her tutu and silver boots and her beautiful face. And I decided I would live today in hope, and that my new birthday resolution is to cry. Cry when I‘m happy, cry when I'm sad, because there is strength in tears and it makes me human. So if you see me holding back those lumps in my throat and pools in my eyes, remind me, that it is my responsibility to cry. 

"The Only Thing Constant in the World is Change."

This is an interlude I listen to regularly from India Aire's sophomore album. It's something  I have to remind myself when I  find I'm resisting what God had planned for me. It's easy to accept change when it's something you have planned and wanted. Okay, easier I should say because I have definitely been guilty of hesitation and procrastination when I've gotten close to have something I've always wanted. Self-sabotage, fear, feelings of inadequacy ( Do I really deserve this?) Of course me being, The Queen of Self-Esteem, after a few minutes of reflection and meditation and I can say, Hell yeah I deserve it! or I'm going for mine, if I fail, so be it, I'll just keep going!  
But what about the change you're not ready for? Like when I was 13 and I had to move in with Aunt because my grandmother's illness and my bad attitude was too much for the household to handle? ( When she died, this situation would become permanent.) Or when I got pregnant my freshman year at UMASS and I had to transfer to a more local college after I had my son?  Or when I realized after 7 years together, and five months before our wedding that I could not live a fruitful life if I married my first love and father of my son.  All things unexpected, all things they made my life wonderful in the end.
With the unexpected changes that have taken place lately in my life, (both physically and career-wise)  I initially went into panic mode. Fear, anxiety, frustration, and a bit of depression. All along in the back of my mind, I know surrendering to the bigger plan is what I must do, but it still doesn't stop my juvenile-like personal response. I have to have my private temper tantrum, give myself a timeout, and then SURRENDER. Who I am not to trust the divine plan? Yes, I have free will, but I'm just a small part of an elaborate design. So I lace up my big girl boots and I get ready to take on the next big challenge, that in the end, will make me a better, stronger person.  And then I say, THANK YOU.

What's that saying?

Oh yeah, it's something like, if you want to make God laugh, make plans.  It's been over two months since my last entry because I've been busy....growing life (and vomiting) that's right, Brenda's Child is with child! Are you as shocked as I am? Then again I guess I shouldn't be because if you read my post about the tarot card reading I received back in July, the woman told me she saw a baby for me and the man I was with. Funny, I only seem to focus on the stuff I wanted to remember from the reading...like all of the money I am going to make off of my words!  
 I won't turn this blog into a pregnancy one, it will still be about all my complexities, which will become more complex since I'm becoming a mom again after 14 years. In some ways it will be easier, I'm older, wiser, more established, and I know what to expect. The hard part is, I know what to expect. I love babies, but pregnancy and labor suck to me. Some people say they love it, me... not so much. I give props to both of my grandmothers for birthing eight babies each, with no epidural! I'm telling you, we are not made like that anymore.
My first time being a mom was difficult because I had to go to college full time and work full time. Looking back, I really can't believe I did it, starting 4 weeks after delivery! This time I have stable employment with maternity leave (AWESOME). The downside is I am forced to slow down...Zumba, traveling, and writing.

As I approach my second trimester this week, I'm hoping my energy will pick up and I'll be back to hustling (so can make the other prediction about the money come true).