Sitting here watching a third season of "Married At First Sight" that I missed since I stopped watching 5 seasons ago, wondering what the FUCK is wrong with people? LOL  I forgot how crazy this show could be - I def need to pick up on the current season because I've gotten caught up and they're wilding too.

Anyway, I came across a question on Facebook today that was kind of hard to respond to because I'm not sure it was clearly posed, but I wanted to unpack it a bit.

The post:

"Women communicate clearly in a relationship with a man in what you want and don’t want... and most times when he falls short, we extend grace when they mess up but.... it takes awhile before we just cut them off and move on. We may cuss them out but we soon forgive and everything is good again....They go in the doghouse but once they buy us a purse, we making love and making up ... all is happy in love bird town..... BUT....

When it comes to the relationships we have with women, we are conditioned to do 1 of 3 things ... ignore, cuss out or cut off... there is no communication at all. There is no grace, no forgiveness, no let’s try to fix this because I see value... Why do we as women do this? Why are female relationships valued less than a relationship with a man?"

There was a third part to this but I omitted it because it was somewhat confusing, given it had absolutely nothing to do with the core question of why we "communicate clearly" to men and subsequently forgive them time and time again, but don't extend that same courtesy to our female friends before cutting them off.  

First of all, neither is true, definitively, though either may be.  I also don't think the women doing "a" do it in every relationship, just like a woman who cuts a friend off with no further communication doesn't do it as a rule.  I think in most cases, it takes a while before you cut that friend off and move on too.  Maybe you're unsure what you're seeing with them and it takes a certain thing happening to confirm they're on the bullshit.  Or the things they've been doing seem small until that final straw that tells you this is just a shitty individual exhibiting a pattern that they're of questionable character.  People do get cut off with no further communication about it, but that shit is rarely out the blue.  I believe that in most cases, it's something that's been building for some time.  

Furthermore, IMO, it's not a man vs. woman thing, like at all.  It just so happens that [heterosexual] women date men and many of their friends are women, but I'd contend that those women are just as likely to cut a male friend off, and I'm 1000% sure that women in romantic relationships with other women give hella passes too.  Maybe this would have been better posed as a relationship vs. friendship question.  Men vs. women.....eh.

But let's start with the first piece, which gives women way too much credit LOL.  Women DON'T tend to communicate clearly what they want and don't want in a relationship before OR after a fuck up.  That's part of why there are subsequent fuck ups - it does you no good to address the specific thing that happened and not connect that thing to the overall standard that it violated.  But that's what happens a lot of the time.  No shade to my sister girls - men don't always communicate what they want clearly either.  

That being said, there's levels to "falling short," as the post calls it.  What exactly is he doing?  Is he leaving the toilet seat up, or is he fucking my sister? LOL  Cause that matters.  What are these transgressions sis is forgiving?  Are we talking missteps, or are we talking betrayals?  Because the same thing applies to friendship violations - there are levels.  I believe the way a woman responds to any friend is going to depend on what they did.  Like I commented on the original Facebook post, " Am I just disappointed, or can I no longer trust you?"  That shit matters.

I will say though, as someone who takes her friendships very seriously, I almost hold them to a higher standard than my relationships.  Definitely a different standard.  Men come and go (until they don't) just like the fleeting emotional responses they provoke from you.  Friends are fixtures.  They're often people you've known for a length of time, who've been privy to private moments and  with whom you've shared a great deal.  So when they violate, that shit is personal.  Emotions can't rival that.  If there's really any difference in the way women handle these two scenarios, I'd say it's that. A robbery always hits different when it's an inside job.  

So.... there ya have it.

Dear Allies...

Please unlearn the phrase, "I don't see color/race."  You CANNOT be a true ally if you don't understand how problematic this statement is.

I know the intent of the phrase is to demonstrate a belief that everyone is the same from the standpoint of humanity.  It's admirable.  The problem is, we live in a country that does not view it's people this way.  There are, indeed, differences between us, and as a result of the creation (yes, Love, google it) and eventual weaponizing of race, if you don't see color, you cannot see that our experiences as black men, women and children are unique in both amazing and terrifying ways. 

Ask yourself why you even feel the need to say that you don't see color.  I contend it's because you actually do, and you fully understand the implications the color of our skin carry with it.  Otherwise, there would be no compulsion to insist that you're different, especially since.... well..... you're not.

In the same way omission is a lie, failing to acknowledge the systemic oppression that has plagued us for nearly 400 years is tantamount to complicity.  It's WORSE than silence.  It's gaslighting. 

You live in a nation that requires its "citizens" to self identify.  We're "one nation, under God, indivisible with liberty and justice for all," right?  So what the fuck difference does it make what box I check?  Oh, right.  The shit they feed us about wanting to make sure programs and dollars are allocated (or not) in the proper places.  Come on son.

To not acknowledge the differences between your existence and ours is to highlight the fact that you never even have to think about it.  How many times in your entire life have you actually left your home with your whiteness in the back of your mind?  How many times has the sudden awareness of your skin color impacted the way - or even if - you interacted with any particular group of people? How often do you even think of yourself as white, except in the presence of black and brown people?  And I contend that when you're in the presence of black and brown people, you still don't think about your whiteness.  You think about our black and brownness.  Tell me I'm wrong.

My blackness is a threat to people I'll never even meet, and in spaces I will never even occupy.  Just think about that.  That's a fucken powerful attribute, yet it puts black lives in danger every single hour of every single day in this country.   America is the poster child for destroying power it can't wield.  Together, there would be no limit to things we could achieve as a nation, but America is not a team player.  Racists have no interest in"Team Gold" so they are forever the Tonya Harding to our Nancy Kerrigan. 

So if you really want to be an ally, stop saying you don't see color.  You NEED to see color to see ME. I don't have the luxury of not being painfully aware of the both the gift and the curse it is to walk around in this skin.  I don't have the luxury of not understanding that it is the gift that has brought on the curse - but you're not ready for that.  I don't have the luxury of feeling entitled to ANYTHING, even when I am.  But I also don't have the luxury of accepting the world as it is.  This skin requires that I fight for what I'm due, for what my children are due.  If you're going to be an ally, I'm going to expect you to be by my side, fighting with me.  With us.  SEEING us.  

And you can't do that UNTIL you see color.

In love.

Fucken Paula

Most mornings I wake up with a song in my head. Never really know where it comes from - maybe it's got something to do with whatever I was dreaming about - but most of the time it's something I hear a lot and it generally sets the mood for my day. But I'm talking about Cardi B, T.I., Drake, or somebody that plays frequently on one of my playlists, so today threw me for a whole loop. It wasn't even just a song in my head. Today it was all the songs and guess who? 

Motherfuckin' Paula Abdul. PAULA ABDUL! WTF is happening right now? LOL 

No clue, but from the time I got up to pee at 5:13 a.m. to the time I brought my ass online a few minutes ago, all I could think about was the mood named Paula who provided a soundtrack for a short period in my life that always made me feel like dancing. Who thinks about Paula Abdul? Surely not me, especially in this day and time, but I lied in bed this morning going through all the songs I remembered from the late 80's, trying to think of the one that I really loved. After a whole "Cold Hearted [snake]" and "Opposites Attract" it came to me - "Forever Your Girl." It was such a fun song, just hearing it in my head has had me smiling and bopping around the house this morning. When I got online, I had no choice but to find it on YouTube. I instantly remembered the video as it started to play and it made me SO nostalgic. There were a couple of moments that actually flooded me with emotion and brought tears to my eyes. 

Nothing specific cme to me in terms of people or events, but I was definitely transported back to a time I shared a bedroom with my sister. A colorful ass room - blue, pink, tagging on the wall.... in retrospect, I'm really shocked my mother had allowed it. The room was all I could see. Right On! posters of Michael Jackson, New Edition and some other folks all over the walls. A boombox with one of the speaker covers missing on the front, and a cassette door that always got stuck but managed to tape the weekly countdown on the radio just fine every Friday night. Little ass TV sitting on a chair in the corner of the room that we watched The Box on. My sister's drooly pillowcase and wads of gum stuck on her bedpost. I spent a great deal of time in that room, by myself as my sister was often out running around with her friends and my only real friend at the time was the music. But boy did I love it. 

I remember another couple of songs I'd just play over and over again from some of the tapes I'd make off the radio.... "All I Want Is Forever," by Regina Bell and J.T. Taylor (who I had no business having a crush on) was a big one. The Jets - oh, I LOVED The Jets - "You Got It All."  Madonna, "Crazy For You."  Pebbles and Babyface, "Love Makes Things Happen." Michelle', "Something In My Heart." The Deele, "Two Occasions." There were more over that few years' time, but these - OH! I played them SO much. SOOOO much. This was definitely the time that music settled into my soul, guaranteeing it's place in my process of bringing me back from whatever place I found myself not wanting to be. Hours and hours I'd just play my tapes, sometimes singing at the top of my lungs, other times, just lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. Uhhh! Just thinking about that makes me wish for simpler times, but the magic of music is the ability to press play and instantly be right back there. 

Man. 

Fucken Paula.

Paying the Piper

I. Hate. Creditors.

And I'm not even talking about the ones you entered into agreements with, cause I've never had a problem cursing them folks smooth out, knowing 99% of the time, we're having whatever conversation we're having because of some bullshit that they did. I'm talking about the third party companies that acquire your account from those original creditors. Them MF's will have you so tight! Cause they petty AF, for people who are demanding somebody else's money. Nigga, I don't even owe you! Nobody told you to go buy them people's accounts! But for those who don't know, the idea is this: it's already charged to the game that you're not gonna pay the original creditor, for whatever reason. Something is better than nothing, right? So the creditor will allow these third party companies to buy your debt from them for pennies on the dollar and then they'll write off the rest.
The debt collector will then attempt to collect that debt from you in order to cover what they bought it for and anything on top of that is profit. So if you owe Direct TV, for instance, $1,000, a debt collector might purchase that debt for as little as $40. They're amenable to making a deal with you because even if they only get you to agree to pay half, they've recouped that $40 and made a $460 profit. That's why they're usually kind of nice to you when they reach out (if they're smart), but that shit goes out the window when they're at the point of tryna take your ass to court.

I told y'all a while back I've become a full-fledged grown up now. I took the necessary steps to repair my credit, and some of that was through disputing erroneous and aging items on my credit report. One item has remained over the past couple of years that I just refused to pay because of the back story. I had a credit card, once upon a time, with a little $350 limit. It was back in my struggle days and I def struggled to keep up with it LOL. It was fine most of the time, with the exception of the couple of occasions when my payment was late and I'd get a call from one of their customer service representatives. I don't know why, but it seemed like it was the same guy calling every time, which low key made me suspicious, but I'd generally end up just making the payment. After a series of things occurred resulting in me maxing the card out, I get a call from this same dude about making payment. I proceed to tell him that if I had it to pay, I'd have paid it. I didn't have it, so they couldn't get it. This dude lost his whole entire mind. He literally started CURSING at me, getting so disrespectful, talking shit to me about how I shouldn't have a credit card if I can't pay it. I've had customer service people get smart before or have bad attitudes in general, but I had NEVER in my life had one talk to me like he was crazy. I couldn't believe it. I wasn't about to go back and forth with him though, so I just told him to close my account and good luck getting the money from me. As I should have expected, this MF called me back TWICE, still talking shit. I blocked him, then proceeded to call into the office to lodge a complaint. Trouble was, in all the shit, I never got his name or any identifying information, so I suppose it went nowhere. I did confirm again though that I'd like my account closed. They did not oblige, however. They told me the account couldn't be closed until it was paid. Okay, but if Y'ALL wanted to close my account, there would be no problem, right? It's because I want it closed that we have a problem. Fuck that guy and fuck you too, lady.

Fast forward about 7 or 8 years, this item is the lone derogatory mark on my credit report. I tried to have it removed but it was a legitimate debt, hadn't aged out (from the time they reported it), and the debt collector had enough accurate information to validate it. Everything else was either removed or paid but this MF just sat there, and my pride would not let me pay it. First it was just the memory of what went down with them, and then it was compounded by the fees they had the audacity to add on top of the original $350 as a result of not closing the account at my request, which now brought the debt to about $860. All I could think was the nerve of these people. I would have fought every last one of them if I could LOL. I remember about a year ago, sitting in my financial advisor's office. He said, "Look at you, literally sitting there stewing, on your high horse, like you didn't bring this on yourself." Yup, I was mad at that too LOL. He didn't care what I said about it, how I had been treated, nothing. It was a debt I owed, fees and all at their discretion, and his main point; "You have the money, just pay the thing!"

"NOPE." I'm stubborn. Especially when I'm on my high horse, as he called it. That being said, I did reach out to try to pay it after about 8 more months went by, but I could never get a response to my messages. What I should have done was reported to my credit bureaus that I had made several attempts and the debt collector had ignored them. I MAY have been able to get the debt wiped away then. But instead, I said fuck it, I'm not gonna keep calling y'all to give you money I don't even owe to you. Fast forward to a week or so ago and I get a certified FedEx containing a notification that these assholes submitted a petition to the courts for a wage execution. Are you fucken kidding me???

So still mad, I decide to reach out and see if we can come to some resolution. I know I'm gonna have to pay something, but I'm hoping I can settle for considerably less than what they're asking. I leave a message, no response. I call back today (about 3 days later) and finally speak to somebody who basically tells me that once the court has been petitioned, there isn't anything she can do. Okay well transfer me to your manager. Let's see if there's something they can do. I get the Office Manger, Lisa. She's got one of though "nicety" demeanors, where she's not speaking with a "tone" really, but definitely still giving you those passive-aggressive "sucks to be you" type responses. She essentially tells me all she can do is take a payment for the full amount they're requesting, AND it sounds like I may get a second invoice from the court person assigned to the file, who is due fees of another $100-some-odd. Oh, I see, y'all did this shit on purpose. There are absolutely no words to describe the level of pissed I am as I end that call, but of course, I can't give Lisa the pleasure. "That's fine, I'll respond to the court then."

I had absolutely every intention of doing so, even pulled up my Word app and started typing out the letter. I was about 3/4 of the way done before I decided to go to the court's website and see what actual recourse I had. Everything I saw said I'd probably not have a leg to stand on, because principles and $2.25 will get you a swipe into the subway. After all, Lisa had informed me that a judgment had been obtained at some point in 2016 that I either knew nothing about or just have no recollection of. Nether of those things would erase it's actual existence from the court's files, so in this case, it actually does just suck to be me right now.

I'm boiling inside but it appears paying the stupid thing is the only choice I have if I want to maintain the good credit standing I've worked so hard to achieve over the past couple of years. I hate that my financial advisor was right and I should have just paid it, because I know he's somewhere looking over the rim of his glasses, judging me.

*pause to make online payment*

UGH!

Suppression

I thought I was depressed for the longest time. Fully aware that not all depression is crippling to the point of not being able to function, I was sure it was responsible for my inability to muster more than the bare minimum required to maintain. Why else would I have been doing the things I was doing, which was essentially not much at all? Why else would I feel such exhaustion the moment I got home, despite all the things I had been thinking all day about doing when I got there? It had to be the reason I'd end up in my room, door closed, in the bed, just watching TV night after night despite the numerous things in this house that needed attention. I knew for a fact that something was wrong and no matter how much sage I burned, how much I meditated, I was never able to shake it for more than a day or so. I've never been much of a sharer when dealing with a personal matter - I'm very much a "figure this shit out" type of person - but it had gotten to the point that I just really didn't know what to do.

In this regard, this pandemic might have been the best thing that could have happened to me. During this time at home, I've been able to slow down and really understand some things I had previously been moving too fast to consider. The rat race is one we all run but there's no hustle and bustle like that of NYC. Go, go, go, all the time. I thought that explained the fatigue when I got home - and to some degree, it had to play a part - but it's been more than that.

I, like many, decided to use this downtime to better myself. Boxing has been amazing. It's not only a great workout; it has really done wonders in helping me manage my stress. It hurts, but I feel great afterwards knowing I've done something good for myself. I feel that way after every workout now, whether I box or not. I feel the same way in my kitchen, cooking up healthier meals than I would be eating out in the world. I definitely miss some of the old lunch spots, but again, I'm doing something good here. So why am I still not getting to things? Why does the end of my work day still flip a switch to this lack of motivation where all I wanna do is head to the room, close the door and.... rinse and repeat?

Oddly enough, it was one of my kids that pulled my coattail to it. My son intercepted me in the kitchen just as I had come in the house from getting my Drizly order at the door. He said, "Mom, didn't you just do an order?" It was Friday. I had just placed an order on Monday and I reordered because I was out already. On Friday. I hadn't even realized how quickly I had blown through that half gallon of rum. I'm sure I said something dismissive in that moment, but I was mortified. See, the other thing I was doing in my room was drinking.

Recently everyone I know has made some comment about how lately they've been drinking way too much. The fact of the matter is, I wasn't drinking any more than I usually did, but that was the problem in itself. I had BEEN drinking too much. It started rather innocently - or purposefully, perhaps is a better word. The year before I relocated, a guy that lived a few houses down from me was murdered outside my house. My kids and I were on the couch at the time, just on the other side of the enclosed porch that sat between us and danger outside. The fear that incident left me with kept us from family time in the living room for weeks after that. When I did return to the living room, I found myself laying down on the couch, or slouching down below window level. I had some serious PTSD and hadn't been sleeping to the point I felt like I was losing my mind. There were many a drinking night at that time and I quickly realized that drinking helped me sleep. It became my fix for that particular issue.

Fast forward 11 years and I was still drinking every night to go to sleep. EVERY NIGHT. And if you know anything about alcohol, you know the more you drink it, the more you have to drink to achieve the same effects. By this time, I was easily downing a whole pint most nights. I have known for a long time that it's not normal and definitely not healthy, but every time I'd try to go bed without drinking, I'd toss and turn all night, or at least until I gave up and poured myself a stiff one. Sure there have been times I had been running all day, came home kind of late and just fell out, but those nights were few and far between. It had become a bigger problem than I ever realized but still, I didn't know what to do.

Then the most horrible, most amazing thing happened. I got on the phone to catch up with one of my oldest friends one night, drinking as usual. A really bad habit I've developed because when I'm on the phone, I'm not paying attention to how much I'm drinking or refilling. 2 hours later, we hang up and I basically pass out. I felt fine when I initially stirred the next morning, but the second I stepped out of bed and opened my eyes to head to my bathroom, it hit me. My eyes felt broken - they hurt and everything looked like a fun house mirror. Dizzy, I also could barely walk, staggering the 10 feet from my bed to the bathroom door. I sat down and closed my eyes and felt okay, but when I got up, it was the same thing all over again. I had to work so I had no choice but try to pull myself together. Try as I may though, Motrin, sunglasses, hair of the dog - nothing was helping. I barely made it through the zoom meeting I had with my boss, which I did with the camera off, and the second we hung up, I knew I was about to lose that battle of trying not to throw up. I made it to my bedroom just in time to hurl in the garbage and knew I'd have been much better off if I had just thrown up in the first place. IDK why we always try to fight it. I was fortunate enough to not have any external meetings that day and did all my internal ones with the camera off while I laid in bed, struggling. It was around 6 pm that night before any sense of normalcy started to return. It was the WORST experience I've ever had behind alcohol and I knew I wanted no parts of it any time soon.

The following day was the first of my week-long detox. I wasn't sure how I was gonna make it through the night, but tea proved helpful. I still had a really hard time going to sleep, but I was determined not to drink. A week later was my 1-year anniversary at my job and I had also closed a big deal, so my anniversary twin and I decided we should drink to the accomplishment. I woke up fine the next morning, but had the world's wickedest migraine by noon. I was and still am convinced the universe was trying to tell me celebrating was not the move. But still, there was happy hour the next night. I didn't want to drink at all but I decided it would be fine to just have ONE drink if I made it like normal people would make it. Besides, it had to be a good complement to the tea I'd have after and help me fall asleep, right? Another bad idea. From just the one light drink, I started to feel sick. I didn't even finish it, I ended up pouring about a fourth of it in the sink. My body simply does not want it and I couldn't be happier about it because I'm not quite sure I'd have been able to step away from it on my own.

So it's been a couple of weeks now and not only do I feel great, I've become more productive and much more intuitive. I'm slowly getting to sleep faster, I'm sleeping better and my dreams are so much more vivid. Reflecting last night after feeling just so grateful for the day, I know now that I wasn't depressed. I was suppressed. My system, my mind, my spirit - all suppressed. Now that I'm not drinking is the first time in a very long time that I feel like I'm firing on all cylinders. My thoughts are flowing freely again, I'm back to planning and mapping out things I want to do and I'm vibrating on a much higher frequency, consistently. I feel like a huge weight has been lifted from me.

Now does this mean I'll never drink again? I'd be lying if I said I didn't believe I'd indulge at some point, but I plan to stay the course for the foreseeable future. When I do have a drink again, it will be for a reason and not just out of boredom or some crazy routine that's taken over my life. I fully intend to come out of this pandemic my best self and since that's likely not gonna be until 2021, I've got plenty of time to get it right.

"Fatal Affair" (Review)

*******Spoiler Alert*******

In this edition of "90 minutes of my life I can't get back," "Fatal Affair" is.... terrible LOL. If you don't know what I'm talking about, thank your lucky stars, but it's a Netflix Original movie starring Omar Epps, Nia Long and Stephen Bishop. Now if you know anything about these actors and their bodies of work, you'd expect a lot from the flick. That is until you come to know the plot of the movie, which is anything but original.

What is it about terrible reviews that make you wanna watch a movie to see just how bad it is? I actually don't think it's got as much to do with the reviews as it does FOMO. If everyone is talking about something, you naturally are drawn toward it, just wanting to be in the know. Maybe these people aren't sophisticated enough to appreciate it, right? I mean, I've definitely found that to be the case sometimes when I've heard mixed reviews, but I have seen absolutely no one have anything good to say about this one. But it's Omar Epps, Nia Long and friggin Stephen Bishop! How bad could it really be?

Chile....LOL

First of all, how many more movies are we gonna get where there's some obsessed person - woman or man - who is such a delusional psychopath that they're just willing to kill everybody to get to the object of their desire, believing that person really wants to be with them despite their insistence to be left alone? I contend that there's just not a lot of ways to do that plot in any interesting, different way than has been done 99,000 times before, but this movie didn't even try. I legit got flashbacks of Michael Ealy, Dean Cain, and the fucken guy whose name I can't remember for the life of me who is the nut job in countless Lifetime movies. Oh, D.W. Moffet - I'm convinced that motherfucker is crazy in real life LOL. This movie even duplicated a lot of the same scenes - like the one where someone hears a noise and walks toward it, being redirected by a microwave or tea kettle or some shit just before they approach the corner the bad guy is lurking behind with a knife. Give me a break!

Now let's talk about Nia Long. Beautiful, sexy? Yes. But I never thought she was much of an actress. The characters she played in her previous roles weren't really stretched that far and I still found her mediocre, so it should be no surprise in this role, I was not impressed. Like AT ALL. She was giving me all the Mariska Hargitay in the world, and if you've watched Law & Order SVU over the years, you HAVE to know what I'm talking about. I've often wondered if she had a stroke at some point in the last few years because she not only looks a little distorted in the face, but her response time on lines is notably slower and disjointed emotionally from what we would deem to be natural, and what we saw from her in earlier years. It oddly comes off as a disinterest, or like someone who has been out of the game for decades and came back with a fraction of the confidence they once had. Nia is still beautiful and sexy but she definitely checks the latter box. Her tone throughout the movie just seemed glaringly flat. Even her sex scenes sucked, but in fairness, all the sex scenes sucked LOL. I'm not even gonna get into the scenes that were just unrealistic, but trust, there were several.

I'm honestly just baffled at how a movie could be this bad in 2020. There's an obvious blueprint for this one and they didn't even follow that well. Even the tittle was bunk - "Fatal Affair" and there wasn't even an affair. Netflix [likely] paid somebody hundreds of thousands of dollars for this? At least tens of thousands. WTF am I doing with my life??

Lovebirds, on the other hand, is funny af. Watch that instead.

Writing on the Wall

This is usually the part where I come in and apologize for my absence. The fact is, I've been in here quite frequently in recent weeks, I just haven't been posting for public consumption. Most of what I've written is kind of all over the place - me working through my feelings on whatever the topic may be and going back to reflect on those initial thoughts when I find myself in a different head space. Some days I'm making lists - what do I need to do in order to do what I want to do? And also, what DO I want to do? I've written my way to insanity and back. I've written dreams to fruition. I've written the hair off my head, and I have literally written people out of my life.

So why am I back in the yard today? Well.... because while most of the people who used to frequent this blog likely jumped ship long ago (understandable, given my highly inconsistent upkeep), there are at least 3 people who I know still check for whatever thoughts I have to offer on a given day. More importantly, the commitment I made with the creation of this blog was to me, and one thing the current state of isolation with the pandemic has underscored for me is how often I abandon commitments I make to myself. Trust and believe if I tell someone else I'm going to do something, good money says it's going to get done, but I've openly struggled with negotiating my own place in my list of priorities, and the struggle is still very real.

It's interesting really; I've boarded and buckled securely into the self-care boat in the sense of making sure I take time for myself, and take care of my mind and body, but for some reason I still find myself negotiating the importance of things with less material outcomes. Yes, writing produces a post - an actual thing - but not writing doesn't impact me in any meaningful way, if that makes sense. And it's not that it's without consequence, it's just that the consequence of that non-action isn't immediately felt. It's not until weeks or months later when there's this extended void in my voice here that I feel it, but feeling that has its own implications. My "inlook" is never quite as fragile as when the pages of this blog have been bare for an obscene length of time. And I've dealt with enough in these past 4 months to excuse it away as "going through something," but those are the times I need to be writing most. Those are the times when what I have to say has real value, as evident in conversations I've had with people over the years, and the people who continue to quote me on their social media platforms to this day. A friend of mine recently reminded me of that, so I suppose you can thank him for my being back in the yard.

I'm not sorry though. When I feel the need to take time for me, I don't count any space an obligation. I think that's something we should all accept about each other - we're not entitled to anyone's time or attention even when we're so accustomed to having it. That's why we should appreciate it when we do have it. Cause one day..... well.