Award for Best Actress Goes To…

Every now and then, I’ll talk with my exes. We’ll shoot the breeze about family, friends, and career. Then… The question comes up, “Meet anyone yet?” Now, I’m not a liar, but there are times I want to be like, “Oh yes! He’s a sweetheart, sexy, and loves me to death. Umm hmm…Just dating but I’m not sure if he’s the one for me.” Please tell me why I have a monologue set in stone for just in case? Hahahaha! Seriously, why do I feel the need to act out of my character?

A part of me still likes 2 of these gentlemen. They’ve discussed with me what possibly would have become of us had we made it. Their conclusions flattered me and this is certainly what made me want to be with them again. Aaah…Those warm and fuzzy feelings… Dang it! But, I knew better than to get caught up in flattery. As I returned from the Land of Oz after catching myself slipping from the sweet nothings spoken to me, I had to check myself. They are exes… And for a reason.

Given a chance, without thinking, would I go back out with them? Yes. Absolutely! Since I know to incorporate prayer for my decisions, would my answer still be “yes” ? Absolutely not. Don’t get me wrong, they were really good guys. So what’s the issue? I forgot to add the explosive ingredient: ME! I didn’t think things through. The “old Cheryl” who hadn’t matured, definitely in Christ, would jump at the chance. I couldn’t be without a man and if he flashed his pearly whites, my gates of heaven were sure to open. Goodness! Having a man meant I was successful in some way, that I was worth something because I was the ring around some dude’s finger. Being honest, I wasn’t a friend, girlfriend, nor wife material then. Yet, I played whatever role necessary. I gave myself to them without a commitment, promise, or vow to love me “till death do us part.” Back then, I didn’t know that love wasn’t a warm, goo-goo eyed, cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs feeling that changed like a newborn’s dirty diapers. To not grow weary in well doing, being patient, and baring burdens in a relationship were true fruits of love that I couldn’t exhibit.

Knowing what I know now, I can display the love of Christ and romantic love to… The man the Lord has been prepping me for and that man isn’t one of my exes. Trying to throw the invisible in their faces does nothing besides question my credibility and being trustworthy in even the smallest of things. I’m in no competition and I highly doubt that either of them care. To “one up” them brings me low and I have been low before. I can’t see me stooping lower even to exaggerate any story.

I’m confident being me. Single and I’m enjoying it. I’ve a feeling many men and women aren’t feeling me on this. I feel bad for them because they can be missing out on the lady or gentleman that God has created specifically for them. I don’t miss that feeling of “needing” a guy and I pray they can get an epiphany of the same foundation in Jesus that He, Himself, has uncovered for me. I’m waiting. Knowing my worth in Who He is will not allow me to settle no matter how long it takes.

I just turned 43 in October and I’ve abstained from sex 13 years this month. I don’t have a man nor has anyone expressed interest in making me their lady. I’ve really been waiting a long time and it seems like it’s never going to happen. And you know what? That’s ok. I’m ok because I know where my strength comes from. I don’t have to put on a show. My time will be here and I’m excited about that.

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Because of “Love”

DASAarUVYAA8KAtBack in the day, I allowed so many dudes to tell me what love was instead of finding out for myself.
Because of “love” I endured an abusive relationship….I hated myself and allowed everything in order to be with him. Because of “love” I contracted several diseases. I sexed him on demand…I pretended that everything was ok. Because of “love” I explained away the broken nose, the slaps and punches with his jagged rings, the blows to the back of my head with his hair clippers, the knockouts, the mental games, and the possessiveness. I remained quiet… I no longer allowed myself to be present… because he existed for the both of us.
Today, I know what love is not. So, if at anytime the “Love” of your life has you experiencing any of these symptoms, you’re sick and need a cure. The only guaranteed remedy I can prescribe to you is escape before you lose your mind any further… Or your life.

My prayer is that you won’t allow yourself to be abused mentally, emotionally, physically, nor sexually. It’s hard to come back from these things. But with Jesus, a made up mind, and support from people who love you, you are more than a conqueror. You are victorious!

Peace be with you all…

Cheryl

Mommy’s Sorry

You never knew me, but I only got a glimpse of you. And no matter how many times I say sorry, it won’t make it right. But I am sorry. When I found out your existence, there should have been tears of joy. Instead, supposedly joyous news was accompanied by tears of pain and fear.

Attempting to leave an abusive relationship for the millionth time was draining. The last contact for awhile was with him pushing mommy out of his moving car and finishing me off with my beating. Several weeks prior, I’d met an awesome man. He knew my faults and issues and they didn’t concern him. He begged me to leave my baggage behind and allow him to care for me. I just couldn’t understand why. He made me feel safe and valuable so I gave my body to him. His name was Lee but you would have called him, “Daddy”. Finally, we knew we’d be together, but the nutcase that I embodied ended it all. Why? I felt I had a new secret that would make him draw the line. In my bitter cold towards him, he continued to pursue me until the one day the cold overwhelmed him. He succumbed to the silence and finally gave up.

That’s what mommy was good at, too… Giving up. Upset and confused as to why I longed for the hand that beat me instead of the one that helped, I lost myself. More depressed than ever, I noticed I slept way more than usual and went from starving myself to over eating. Things weren’t normal but the red flag was an irritating throbbing heartbeat in my neck. I had to get checked out.

Mommy found out alright. I was pregnant… With you. I slipped right passed the doctor who didn’t realize it was me after he left me in my room to get dressed while he fetched​ the nurse to do blood work. I wasn’t happy. I cried all the way home. What was I to do? I had no support and the support I did have, I shunned. I told my neighbor who told me about places that took care of “problems”.  In disbelief of my consideration, I felt I had a problem… you. You were a problem. I am so sorry baby but mommy couldn’t keep you and my shamble of a life filled with too many people to please.

That was it! The decision was made. 3 weeks later, I’d saved up the money to destroy your life. I arrived early to start my consultation which took hours instead of the half hour like everybody else. I was supposed to be in and out. I wasn’t. I KNEW I WAS WRONG. The tears poured and poured. All day. Never ending. The closest I’d came to leaving was seeing you on the ultrasound. You were just 6 weeks… Then you were no more.

I pray that one day I’ll see you again and that the time will be filled with joy, but if it’s not, I’ll understand because since I paid for your blood to be spilled, mommy died too. Then, my life needed to end. I couldn’t cope and so I lost it untill the day Jesus pulled me up and told me He loves me. He had forgiven me and I finally forgave myself. My hope is that you will too. Mommy now fights for other babies like you with mothers like me, in hopes that I can change minds with my testimony so that a new mother emerges instead of a grief stricken shell of a woman. You died, but not in vain because I vow to fight the good fight until the Lord decides the day of my sunset. Mommy is truly sorry.

The “High-Rizes”

1995-  Apt. #1106 of Landsdown High Rises in East St. Louis. You see the very top floor of this building? That was my floor’s balcony. It was pretty nice for a studio. I needed something to call my own and  I was happy to call this as such. I was grown and I was doing me for a change.

On my job, I’d met a guy that I’d fallen in lust with- Eric. He was always calm…very, and I never knew why. When we were just friends, we would go to the empty floors and talk. Our talking led to freaking. Freaking led to him letting me in on what kept him copacetic: Marijuana a.k.a. “Mary Jane” a.k.a.”The Chronic”. Scared, I never smoked it but when he uttered the words, “You’re my shorty,” he had me smoking like a car that failed the Emissions Test! LOL It made me goofier and I had no choice but to relax! It was alright tho’ because I knew he would let no harm come to me so I did whatever he wanted.

Friday night- Eric and his friend Royce came over to eat tacos. I was in the middle of chopping everything up at the same time as I was browning the meat. I looked over at them with these extremely happy looks on their faces. Why? Because “Mary Jane” showed up, too. I glanced at them from time to time and before I knew it, they rolled the weed all up. Royce hit the blunt and then Eric. Eric comes to me while I’m stirring the meat and says, “Here. Hit this.” I did with no hesitation. Instantly, I knew something was wrong. My lips went completely numb. I told him and he laughed and said, “You’re O.K. Here…hit it again.” Why the hell did I do that?

Numb! My entire body went numb! I was in the middle of cooking and couldn’t tell that I was stirring the meat. My hands seemed separated from my body when I looked at them. I finally told him that something was really wrong but he just looked at me. That numb sensation: I would name it “Death’s Blanket” because it covered me with fear, torment, hallucinations, and paranoia except I wasn’t at liberty to control its use.

The series of events that took place next were pretty lengthy so I’ll shorten them. Ready?    Assuming I went through the wall, I ran to the bathroom in lightning speed to see if I could still see myself alive and to douse myself with water. Offered food, I couldn’t eat because I was afraid to swallow and die from choking. The knife I used to cut the vegetables, I used to cut myself to see if I’d feel it but I only bled. I never knew the last verse of Bone Thugs N Harmony’s song, “Cross Roads” because it was so fast, but that day…I heard it word for word. I looked at the sky and literally saw it open with things shooting across it then turned around and saw myself lying on the floor in fetal position. I saw shadowy dark images in and out my lapses. I believed I was dying so I called my mom and told her that I was, and was sorry for not being a good daughter, that I failed and loved her, then hung up. I stripped naked, ran into the hall, and screamed to the top of my lungs. I looked at Eric, lunged at him and said, “You killed me so now I am going to kill you!”

I needed help and the person I knew would let no harm come to me allowed harm. He laughed at me…hysterically. That’s all he did!

Unable to think clearly, the clearest thought surfaced: “I could just jump! I know that will knock the feeling back!”I started running towards the  balcony that I described at the opening of my story. For some reason, I was extremely strong…so strong that I pulled, 200 something pounds, Eric clean out of my house and climbed over the ledge. I stood there…crying, praying, and trying to contemplate where to jump for the safest landing. When I tried to let go, I couldn’t do it! I can’t remember why. I don’t know what kept me because Eric couldn’t even hold me. How I got down, I can’t tell you but I made it to my bed somehow with Eric lying on one side and Royce on the other. I allowed them to do what they  wished but can’t remember them doing much because I had no control. My high had gotten worse and worse. I recall begging him not to let me fall asleep because I knew I would enter eternal rest from the torment. From that, I started wishing to die.

Saturday came and went. I remember nothing because I slept right through it.

Sunday. I awake to Royce being M.I.A. and Eric trying to sneak out. The horrific sensation was still on me. I figured I was on my last stages of life because my speech was slurred. I asked him to help me get dressed and get to my mom’s but he was against it. Maybe he figured I was dying, too. He helped me but walked me to the bus stop…and left me there…to die…all by myself. I never saw him again. The bus finally pulled up and  I tried to board but couldn’t. It was as if I’d never walked before. The driver, confused, asked if I needed help but I said no, knowing I needed to make it to the hospital. As soon as I got on, I sat directly behind her, holding her shoulders around the glass. Surprisingly, she didn’t seem to mind and nobody boarded the bus the entire route, so the only witness to my paranoia was the driver. Upon making it to the bus station, I needed to switch, and till this day, I still can’t tell you how I made it on to another AND magically wind up at my mom’s in Brooklyn.

I walked to the front for my fam to ask me what was I doing because I’d been walking around the house for some time like I didn’t know where I was. I didn’t, but I played it off, forcing myself to try and remain calm with the “Death Blanket” covering me relentlessly. I made small talk but my mom interrupted asking about my strange phone call. I thought I told her that I was dying, I was a bad daughter, and I loved her but she heard nothing but quiet mumbling and then silence. She said she tried to call back but I didn’t answer. Avoiding dealing with her questions, I asked for a cup of coffee. She heated the water in the microwave and fixed it up the way that I liked it. When she gave it to me, I drank it straight…scalding freaking hot! They looked at me and started crying, shaking me, asking what was wrong. I started screaming and crying telling them that I was high and dying, pleading with them not to let me fall asleep. They took me to the hospital but I went blank.

I was released to my mom and slept the rest of the day. When I woke Monday, she told me the hospital tests showed that I had marijuana and embalming fluid in my system. PCP was the actual drug found. I had no clue what I had gotten myself into nor how close to death I had become. I couldn’t understand why I suffered the effects that I had and my boyfriend and his friend were alright. They had to have been doing this all the time and grew a tolerance or something. I know that what I felt, I wished on no one. I can’t fathom why people even take drugs and enjoy it or “need” them. I just can’t.

What I can’t understand even more is the fact that the one person I counted on, the one I gave my all to, left me to die. Why would he do that? He built me up in no way. I got nothing from this man. I gave him permission to kill me way before I was ever high as I did things that young ladies shouldn’t do. I barely knew him to be calling him my man, nor did I ask for a commitment… something you need if you want to go further in any relationship. I didn’t know the Lord back then so I didn’t think to pray about being with him nor what it would cost to be with him. I wasted my time and then almost lost everything else.

So… ladies and gentlemen, when I look back over these events, it just strengthens my decision’s foundation to wait on the Lord for my man. Look at how this one treated me. Count the costs of being engulfed with someone you call your significant other. Seek the Lord on them and make sure you wait because giving your all to a man or woman ultimately, who you ain’t supposed to be with anyway, can suck all the sexual, mental, physical, emotional, and spiritual life out of you. Mines was gone within seconds, but God granted me a second chance. I thank Him because many people don’t make it alive out of a high or at least come out the same. Learn from my mistakes. I’ve already made this one for you so don’t repeat! LOL  I pray the peace and love of Jesus over all of you.

Cheryl

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s Not a Game

I sat there shaking in my hotel room bed tearing up. It was so bad that I got worried that I would do something real stupid. The temptations started calling  my name again. Not sure what brought it on but I did not try to deny my flesh its wishes. I was sexually ready and even thought about my ex in the midst of the visions of us together. I wanted to say, “Lord please forgive me for what I’m about to do because I can’t wait any longer. I am only human and You know my heart. If You’ll just overlook this one just this once, I will live as You have allowed me. Let me hook it up and then hopefully You’ll forgive me afterward. Please help me because I give up.” Yeah this is what I wanted to say as it was in my heart along with the urges that I entertained. I allowed that penny-ante nonsense to get into my head when I know better.

With tears in my eyes, here was my actual prayer: “When Lord, when? Where is my man? How much longer do I have to wait? Is he even looking for me? I keep having these seemingly very real sex dreams and no fulfillment in sight. It’s been 12 years without kiss or touch and these urges keep getting worse and worse. God, I need to get Fk’d!”

Now, I am sure there are those who have an issue with this prayer. He’s Holy and go before Him revering Him as such. True. God is Holy and He commands that we come before Him in spirit and in truth. I have a relationship with Him and told Him how I feel as He truly knows what’s in my heart so, to rain dance a prayer, hoop and holler, or beat around the bush with Him would be a slap in His face and a waste of His time and mine. I can be real with Him and we all should be able to be because if you aren’t, don’t worry about getting any real help from The Almighty God. When I neared the end of my rant of complaining, I thanked Him for helping me through it because I almost let go but my desire to be kept still outweighs the desire to abort this gift that He’s so graciously placed in me.

So…after an hour or so, I started feeling like myself again. I thought about what was going on in my thought life and I’d been talking to an ex, who made me feel desired again. We only had a couple of conversations that weren’t O.K. to have but I checked them so that we could continue to talk without issues. If it couldn’t be uplifting then we couldn’t continue. I made sure to stay in my spot prayer wise so I could dodge the arrows being fired at me. I realized that the more I stayed on my post, the more the attacks would come. You must be tested in some way, shape, form, or fashion. Even in prayer, you can’t let down your guard and I clearly did let mine down. So, it made sense that I didn’t realize where it came from in the heat of the moment.

Oooh…I just thought about the fact that I have given life to some issues by slightly dwelling on them: I’m getting older and still not married; I have no children and won’t from my own  womb (unless God steps in); I’ve considered making moves to speed up these processes rather than wait on the Lord like I know I should. I know all these things won’t solve anything. When does worry solve anything? It doesn’t. But I have started feeling like I’m on a schedule or I need to rush, and or force God’s hand.

The fact is, I’m not on anyone’s schedule. I have written up my own and God never gave me instructions to do so. It’s been me, calling the shots rather than calling His name profusely. I can’t rush the Lord in doing what He’s going to do. I don’t want to mess His plans up although I really wished I knew some of them so I could just chill. The severe need to know things has been something I’ve dealt with my entire life. So, yes, I need to know when my man is coming and if he’s looking for me. I need to know how my marriage will be and if he’s the right man for me. I need to know how sex will be and if these urges will be satisfied as I won’t be testing any waters previous to my wedding day. I need some answers Lord, but more so, I need to sit and pray and put everything in perspective as my flesh is doing more of the talking than it should. It’s not my will…it’s Yours, Lord. Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God (Phil. 4:6). Give me something to go on, Lord…anything…the struggle is real but I’ve waited this long, I will stand and continue to wait.

I pray the strength of the Almighty God in you all…to wait on or for whatever it is He has gifted you with patience. I also pray that you keep your relationship and prayer life with Him 100. Anything less is truly unacceptable and he expects your all in its rarest form. Love you guys!!!

 

Stains

So, we all know that I write on the raw, the gruesome, and most taboo situations from my life. A little over a year ago, while I was thinking what I could do useful with my time, my sis gave me the bright idea to start a blog. I wasn’t sure what to write, already feeling that I can’t be that interesting of a person. I’m not rich nor famous. I’ve not reached an awesome feet that deserved recognition. So what should I write? When I wrote my first college paper, my sis also told me to write on something that I knew or loved. I exceeded my professor’s expectations as well as my own after I turned it in. I took that same advice and began “Diary of a Celibate Woman” and today I have a nice following. Now, I knew that I was hurting severely at one point and healed due to help so I would write on those events that caused my newfound wisdom. I had some fears because I just knew the looks and glares that would come about, but I prayed and felt that, yes, write the uncut, unedited, unapologetic verses that created a testimony in my life. I’ve been through some things and if I was to write, it would be about those things in all their glory. So, now that some of  you know some of the nasty events of my life, wouldn’t it be awesome to know the possible root? I know that I’ve received a couple of revelations recently as God has been uncovering some of the reasons that I’ve responded the ways that I have in my life.

Some of the things that have been hardest in my life to get a grip are anger, lack of forgiveness, silent treatments, grudges, sweeping issues under the rug, desires to fight, and the evil eye. Growing up, I was prohibited from speaking my mind, from feeling disappointment, and anger. My parents had issues that trickled down to us kids, and as a result, learned the behaviors and took them on, even into adulthood. I am not speaking on the behalf of all my siblings, but for me, these stains bled through the spirits of my parents and rubbed off in my upbringing, leaving behind the tracks of their existence. The magnitudes that I dealt with some issues have diminished greatly while others are no longer a factor. A couple still live on and smears my heart negatively every time something happens.

Anger and the desire to fight: A man… a dude, genetically stronger than myself, almost met Jesus in the air two weeks ago. LMBO He was defending the ignorance of his female friend after I voiced to my sister what she had done. He didn’t like it. We exchanged a few calm in demeanor, yet gut punching words, before my sister stepped in and told the man his friend should have done better. I saw fire and brimstone in both my hands like I was a Master Roshi from Dragon Ball Z . LMBO SMH… It may be funny now, but then, I cried because of the fury I felt inside and my inability to just be O.K. because it honestly was nothing, and the lack of seeing that I spoke wrong despite the cool manner. From where did these traits derive? I was bullied by my dad and later by my mom, and even later by cousins who beat and hospitalized me. I guess in all my years, I’ve held it but didn’t have a revelation until then.

Silent treatment: One Christmas, my mom bought me a blue jean coat with the thick white cotton trim on the pockets the end of the sleeves and the interior. I loved it. My sister mysteriously messed up her coat so I loaned her my new one. She wore it all the time and it would be some wear and tear. However, she broke the zipper to my surprise as I observed a bread bag tie in its place. I asked what happened to it and my sister was offended that I asked and so a slight argument ensued. My mom stepped in and rather than diffuse the issue, she took a side, definitely the one that, in my opinion, she should not have been on. Not long afterwards, there was silence from them towards me. My mom then gave me the “evil eye”… which is a look that tells you either, “don’t you dare,” or “you know fool well your behind is cooked if you do other than what was supposed to be done!” Now in my adult life, I’ve struggled with not keeping silent just to spite a person. I’ve also adapted my mom’s evil eye.  When I don’t think the silent treatment gets through to you, the evil eye usually does. Just looking at you upside your head like you are crazy has also been embedded in my brain by my mom.

These are not good traits to have, definitely if you wish to continue to grow in Christ. These things have can stunt your growth, divide relationships or halt the ones that could have been. As adults, we wonder where certain things we deal with begin. When there is nowhere else to look, search your childhood. Ask someone that knows you or at least can lend some insight. I didn’t realize my reasons for the evil eye was because of the way my mom dealt with me until my sister and I started talking yesterday about how I deal with her kids. I am an exact copy of my mom in this area. I cried because it hurts to learn the painful things about ourselves. I would never intentionally hurt my nieces and nephews but I have been doing so because I’ve been hurt. Now that I know I am doing it and possibly why, I’ve been working hard to erase this stain that may have definitely damaged some of our communication.

I want to be all that God has called me to be. I want to have all that He has called me to have. I am not easily offended- but I am. Today, I will declare that I am not… and walk in it. I don’t hurt others- but I do. Today, I will declare that I will not hurt anyone else… and walk in it. I don’t give the evil eye- but I throw the evil eye like darts. Today, I will declare that my eyes will display love.

It’s severely hard to change for the better. I thought that not giving it up was hard. Giving up my rights to be mad, hold a grudge, put my hands on you, or snapping you up has got to be some of the hardest things I’ve ever done. But to have long lasting relationships and or build new ones is what God desires to complete through people. I know that I don’t have to do it, but I must be obedient and willing to die and take what is necessary for the love of people like He died for the love of people. I can do it and if He has my back in living celibate then I know He has my back through uprooting what he did not place in me- these stains.