Last night, I went to an ice cream social for Christian singles. I know, it shoulds hella lame, but it was actually a really good time with good people. I had some good lactaid ice cream and a fruit popsicle that was absolutely delish! But during the after ice cream conversation a question was posed to me: would I be okay if I never, ever got married? Would God be enough?
Perhaps I am immature in my Biblical studying and understanding, but the answer for me was a big fat no! Not only would I not be okay with it, but I would demand answers! How come I would be chosen to live a life of loneliness? How come other less cool chicks got a man while I got a rock? I would also request that God send me an HR sheet outlining how he came to his decision and what the criteria is for a woman that gets to have companionship.
"You wouldn't be alone," one of the ice cream socialists said. "You would have your friends and God."
Okay, got it. But how can they not see that that is different than having a tangible person next to you who loves you and that is going to live life with you; that knows you and cares for you? I like the idea of someone living life at my side.
They say that there is someone for everyone, but as I get older, I see that that is not true. I have dope lady friends in my life that aren't in a relationship and the possibility that they ever be in one continues to get slimmer with every passing day. And while they are waiting, their fertility window is closing, sending them into this weird, anxious panic and frustration. It's hurtful, and even more painful when you realize that there is a possibility that God just doesn't have a person for you. You don't get love. Billions of other people do on the planet, but you don't. For a woman in her 30s, the idea of eternal loneliness is very real, but it somehow becomes cruel when you add the possibility that God just doesn't want you to have anybody.
I am working on my relationship with God, but I also want a relationship with God, and I think that is fair and human. Hopefully He is in agreement. Time will tell.
Saturday, August 31, 2019
Tuesday, August 20, 2019
Lady Lumps pt 1
The other day I woke up with a pain in my left boob, the problem boob.
I got up and went to the bathroom to investigate the situation to find that I had some type of lump above my areola.
I was not surprised. My left breast has given me nothing but problems since I was 13-years-old. Unusual sensitivity in my breast caused me to have to go to the doctor with my mom when I was in the 8th grade, only to find that I had a bacterial infection. I had to take pills, and since then, my left boob has been saggier and considerably more pancakey than my right one.
Now I know some of you all are reading this and holding your breath. I know what you are thinking: The Big BC. But I was not thinking that at the time. I was thinking, Great, more s&*t that I have to deal with. Keep in mind, I was also not completely awake. I rolled my eyes at my boob and went back to sleep.
Now, when I woke up for real, cancer was most definitely on my mind. I went back to the mirror to study the situation, rubbing the lump and to me, it didn't feel like cancer. I, of course, am going off of a breast cancer display that I felt on in college during some type of AKA sorority breast cancer workshop. A breast cancer survivor had a display of a set of breasts and told me to press down on both with two fingers and tell her when I felt something. It took a while before I felt something small and sharp deep in the display breast.
"That's the lump," she said with a stern, straight face. I catalogued that in my mind for a moment such as the one I didn't know I would be having 14 years later and went back to my dorm with my friends to get ready for a party.
My mind was racing a mile a minute. This bump on my breast hurt! I remembered a doctor in a Lifetime movie telling a patient in the movie that breast cancer didn't hurt. I exhaled a sigh of relief.
But then I panicked! That was a made-for-TV movie, not real life!
Then I remembered, when I went to Planned Parenthood for a pelvic exam, I was given a breast exam. The nurse said I had healthy breast tissue. Again, relief.
Then I panicked! That was six years ago!
But wait, I thought, I am only 34. Relief.
Then came the panic. I read an article not too long ago about how women younger than 40 and dudes are getting increased breast cancer diagnoses.
I decided to do what I do best: ignore the problem. However, that went out the window an hour later when the bump on my boop started leaking.
I got up and went to the bathroom to investigate the situation to find that I had some type of lump above my areola.
I was not surprised. My left breast has given me nothing but problems since I was 13-years-old. Unusual sensitivity in my breast caused me to have to go to the doctor with my mom when I was in the 8th grade, only to find that I had a bacterial infection. I had to take pills, and since then, my left boob has been saggier and considerably more pancakey than my right one.
Now I know some of you all are reading this and holding your breath. I know what you are thinking: The Big BC. But I was not thinking that at the time. I was thinking, Great, more s&*t that I have to deal with. Keep in mind, I was also not completely awake. I rolled my eyes at my boob and went back to sleep.
Now, when I woke up for real, cancer was most definitely on my mind. I went back to the mirror to study the situation, rubbing the lump and to me, it didn't feel like cancer. I, of course, am going off of a breast cancer display that I felt on in college during some type of AKA sorority breast cancer workshop. A breast cancer survivor had a display of a set of breasts and told me to press down on both with two fingers and tell her when I felt something. It took a while before I felt something small and sharp deep in the display breast.
"That's the lump," she said with a stern, straight face. I catalogued that in my mind for a moment such as the one I didn't know I would be having 14 years later and went back to my dorm with my friends to get ready for a party.
My mind was racing a mile a minute. This bump on my breast hurt! I remembered a doctor in a Lifetime movie telling a patient in the movie that breast cancer didn't hurt. I exhaled a sigh of relief.
But then I panicked! That was a made-for-TV movie, not real life!
Then I remembered, when I went to Planned Parenthood for a pelvic exam, I was given a breast exam. The nurse said I had healthy breast tissue. Again, relief.
Then I panicked! That was six years ago!
But wait, I thought, I am only 34. Relief.
Then came the panic. I read an article not too long ago about how women younger than 40 and dudes are getting increased breast cancer diagnoses.
I decided to do what I do best: ignore the problem. However, that went out the window an hour later when the bump on my boop started leaking.
Monday, August 12, 2019
Elevation Hateration
I have been soliciting a lot of prayers lately. Y'all, I am trying to get on the good foot in regards to my life. For four years, I feel like I have been emotionally and professionally all over the place, moving at the speed of an empty plastic bag sailing across a Wal-Mart parking lot. In less than five months I will be thirty-five and some things have to change. So I am praying for direction, job offers, income, confidence, and healthy hair- all the things needed to get my life back on the right track. And I was asking those closest to me to pray for this on my behalf. But my friend Twin warned against this.
Twin is one of the many non-related aunties in my life. She is in her late 40s, looks 30, keeps her skin hydrated, is one of the last Black women to still get perms, and she is about as holy as they come. When I saw her recently, I asked her to pray me up some good opportunities, and she said she would, but warned me against asking too many people.
"You have to watch who you ask to pray for you, because everybody don't have your best interest at heart," she warned, pointing her acrylic nail in my face with the seriousness and steadiness of an old bayu witch .
Hm. This was interesting to me, because I had been thinking that the more prayers going up on my behalf, the better. It never occurred to me that there could be someone out there trying to spiritually sabotage me.
But over the years, I have suspected that there were people in my life that were happy that I am a have-not. I have been told by people I shared this with to confront these "friends" about this, but how do you ask someone who you otherwise love if they want you to fail?
Sadly, going over the list in my head recently, I realized that the list has gotten longer since the last time I did it in my head, which made me sad. How am I attracting people into my life that don't want me to shine?
That is a question for another day. For now, I am praying like I have never prayed before for money and miracles. I even asked my mom in Heaven to give me a referral. I will let you know how this pans out, but you can't share it with the haters.
Twin is one of the many non-related aunties in my life. She is in her late 40s, looks 30, keeps her skin hydrated, is one of the last Black women to still get perms, and she is about as holy as they come. When I saw her recently, I asked her to pray me up some good opportunities, and she said she would, but warned me against asking too many people.
"You have to watch who you ask to pray for you, because everybody don't have your best interest at heart," she warned, pointing her acrylic nail in my face with the seriousness and steadiness of an old bayu witch .
Hm. This was interesting to me, because I had been thinking that the more prayers going up on my behalf, the better. It never occurred to me that there could be someone out there trying to spiritually sabotage me.
But over the years, I have suspected that there were people in my life that were happy that I am a have-not. I have been told by people I shared this with to confront these "friends" about this, but how do you ask someone who you otherwise love if they want you to fail?
Sadly, going over the list in my head recently, I realized that the list has gotten longer since the last time I did it in my head, which made me sad. How am I attracting people into my life that don't want me to shine?
That is a question for another day. For now, I am praying like I have never prayed before for money and miracles. I even asked my mom in Heaven to give me a referral. I will let you know how this pans out, but you can't share it with the haters.
Wednesday, August 7, 2019
Thirtigue
When I was in my 20s, I had a laundry list of symptoms comparable to those heard on a prescription pill commercial. I was moody, depressed, frantic, and hysterical. Jamaica helped me to see that I was suffering from 20pause, a type of menopause experienced by women in their 20s who are freaking out about their futures. Now, at 34, my friends are suffering from what I have coined as Thirtigue. The symptoms: anger, feelings of emptiness, loneliness, exhaustion, and hopelessness, all caused by pouring your all into a man, changing him for the better, then watching him leave you to go shine with someone else thanks to your hard work and patience. Sadly, by my age, women have experienced this so many times that their condition has become terminal.
"I'm done pouring my all into a man!" Tiffy exclaimed. She, Savannah and I were on a 3-way call, reminiscent of our middle school days. "I want a man that is move-in ready!"
Ah, a move-in ready man. A man that knows how to communicate. A man that loves The Lord. An employable man that isn't broke. A man not addicted to porn or Instamodels. An attentive man that can be sensitive but can also lay down the law. As Savannah and Tiffy continued to chat I envisioned a topless Michael B. Jordan, walking towards me with a bouquet of flowers and a box of Little Debbie Cakes. Then I wondered: for a man to be as amazing and seemingly flawless as Michael B. Jordan, can you imagine how many women he has sent into Thirtigue?!
Sadly, I don't think that there is a way to beat Thirtigue, short of dropping off the dating scene. It is in the hearts of women to be giving and to motivate. There is no woman alive who is going to get with a guy, see his potential, and not do anything to help him make it. Sadly, the hope is that you come across a man that has Thirtigued so many other sisters that he is pretty much "move-in ready" fo you. Messed up right?
In the meanwhile, you can try to protect yourself against Thirtigue. Remember that you can't change a man. Help him set goals but give him room to reach them himself. And try not to love too hard, as if that is possible.
"I'm done pouring my all into a man!" Tiffy exclaimed. She, Savannah and I were on a 3-way call, reminiscent of our middle school days. "I want a man that is move-in ready!"
Ah, a move-in ready man. A man that knows how to communicate. A man that loves The Lord. An employable man that isn't broke. A man not addicted to porn or Instamodels. An attentive man that can be sensitive but can also lay down the law. As Savannah and Tiffy continued to chat I envisioned a topless Michael B. Jordan, walking towards me with a bouquet of flowers and a box of Little Debbie Cakes. Then I wondered: for a man to be as amazing and seemingly flawless as Michael B. Jordan, can you imagine how many women he has sent into Thirtigue?!
Sadly, I don't think that there is a way to beat Thirtigue, short of dropping off the dating scene. It is in the hearts of women to be giving and to motivate. There is no woman alive who is going to get with a guy, see his potential, and not do anything to help him make it. Sadly, the hope is that you come across a man that has Thirtigued so many other sisters that he is pretty much "move-in ready" fo you. Messed up right?
In the meanwhile, you can try to protect yourself against Thirtigue. Remember that you can't change a man. Help him set goals but give him room to reach them himself. And try not to love too hard, as if that is possible.
Saturday, August 3, 2019
Sickles and the Naughty Call
A few years ago I told you guys about Sickles. I was pretty optimistic about him. He is literally tall, dark, and handsome, and at the time, for some reason, I was under the impression that he was going to Morehouse Medicine to study Sickle Cell Anemia. Since then he has wanted to be a dentist, worked for AT&T, been incarcerated, had a baby, contemplated working on a farm, and fallen off the face of the earth...or so I thought.
The other day I was scrambling to get ready for some errands that I had to run. I had decided the day before that I would leave the house at 8am. Before I knew it, 10:30am had rolled around and I was still trying to get dressed. Just when I was about to head out the door, my phone rang, alerting me that I was receiving a call via DUO. There was no name, just a number. I answered it only to be greeted by a live video of a man (only from the waist down), playing with his not-so-wee wee wee. I quickly hung up, understandably shaken. The phone rang again from the same number, and I answered it again, ready to curse out the person. But this person was not just some weirdo calling me to be gross. It was Sickles.
The other day I was scrambling to get ready for some errands that I had to run. I had decided the day before that I would leave the house at 8am. Before I knew it, 10:30am had rolled around and I was still trying to get dressed. Just when I was about to head out the door, my phone rang, alerting me that I was receiving a call via DUO. There was no name, just a number. I answered it only to be greeted by a live video of a man (only from the waist down), playing with his not-so-wee wee wee. I quickly hung up, understandably shaken. The phone rang again from the same number, and I answered it again, ready to curse out the person. But this person was not just some weirdo calling me to be gross. It was Sickles.
"Sorry about that Holly," he said, smiling his goofy smile. I was not smiling.
"Really Sickles?" I asked, shaking my head.
"Yeah, my bad. So...how are you?"
"Have a good morning Sickles," I said, ending the video call.
Lately, during my reflection time, I had begun to be really hard on myself. It just felt like I was getting older yet nothing about my life or my being was changing. Now I know for sure that this is not true. When I first met Sickles, my self-esteem was in the pits. I would have thought that whole thing was cute or funny, just happy that there was a guy out there willing to talk to me, even if he was being nasty. But when he did that the other day, I didn't feel happy, I felt annoyed. This showed me that I am growing in some aspects of myself, even if I don't have a nice car and a huge house to show for it. I have respect for myself! I have dignity! It's funny the life-changing conclusions that seeing a man's penis can bring you to.
Thursday, August 1, 2019
xoNecole's ElevateHer Crawl is coming this weekend!
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