Sometimes when you find yourself at odds in your marriage, you question yourself a lot. You question your choices and if you should really be hanging on, or letting go of a lot of things. I’m not speaking of divorce. I’m speaking of things that never seem to change but rear their ugly heads at the worse times and make loving your spouse difficult. I’m speaking of words that have come back to bite you, that you don’t regret saying but probably should have kept hidden. Exposed vulnerabilities that caused you to be trapped in a cycle of ‘but you said this when’ and ‘how come I’m this when, but not that way when’. I’m speaking of those times when you have expressed appreciation and have had it taken advantage of. You begin to learn more and more about yourself and your partner the more you fight. You also change constantly and have to re-arrange how you do things in your life in relation to this person. When it comes to your children you are unapologetically you, annoying, over-doting and just down right every ‘meme’ of a parent that ever lived. You never seek to change to accommodate their request for you to stop, because you can’t help but be ‘parent’-like’. When it comes to a spouse though, those many times that you have had to ‘take a step back to focus’ comes with being a little more withdrawn every time. Somehow, you manage running back to the routine but with a much guarded face. The spoils of the war always comes with odd propositions like ‘you know you can tell me anything’ and you somehow want to say, ‘can I though?’ can I express adoration for you and not have it questioned when you’ve done something unfavorable? Not quite convinced, you learn to be devoted to keeping your thoughts modest and reserved. Every now and then though, you dip into your old ways…and I’ll let Sade tell it…..


Back to earth….

It’s been a lazy day at work and I spent my time pissing a friend off for fun. That is until I overheard a call that broke my heart. It was of my co-worker and his daughter and him giving her directions on how to bring his wife out of an attack of some sort.

It took the wind out of me and I felt immense sadness. At one point I was on the verge of tears when I heard her tell her dad she loves him and it will be ok. The thought, of a daughter telling her dad, who should be the strong one that she will make everything ok, hit home. I just wanted to go home and hug and kiss my family. Thank them for being with me, tell them I love them and that I’m grateful for their health and strength. Grateful for good health and that we have no serious problems that would require any major changes to our lives. I felt a bit broken for this guy and wondered how many times has he gone through this. How tired is he and fed up and if he himself is sad or need a shoulder to lean on. I felt sad for the brave little girl who called her dad and how he told her she did the right thing and he was proud of her.

I don’t know him personally but he taught me quite a lesson. There is so much contention in the world, we forget to give thanks and uplift one another and I am sorry for my part in that. I always try to be kind, as I can never tell what one is going through. However, I will take with me the lesson, that giving thanks is a bare minimum and showing appreciation is a privilege.   On another note, the daughter mentioned calling someone to help that said they won’t be coming. These things don’t happen by chance and we should learn to love each other more.

Walk with compassion in your heart and speak with love and admiration for others. Only good karma can come your way.

Have a blessed weekend!

Immigrant liberties and locks….

Immigration is so simple to some people. However, there is so much heart break and brokenness with the process.

immiAcclimatizing to a place you have no rights to is very draining. There is no history in a land you may have never even visited before. There is no security in a place you need because you cannot go back home. Wreckage surrounds your life and glooms leers at your soul for as long as you are unstable. I always say that only the bravest people immigrate and not break. You have to have heart and guts to lift your life up on your shoulders and carry it for months, years before you find some peace. People can complicate the process for you and they just might bless your situation. I don’t know of a bigger thing in my life than fighting every single day to feel at home in a country where I was not born. As much as I do not feel safe at times being home, that is the place that connects to my core. When I visit, I can relax, I am calm; everything is familiar. Everything is sweet and natural. The living is temporary but the relief is lasting and enough. The relationships you form in foreign lands are so forged and fickle. You’re forced to co-exist with sworn enemies and your one commonality makes you forgive your biases. The relationships are fleeting though and even your own people disappoint. There isn’t a certainty as to how far you can go with people here because you do not know them. You do not know their story, history, you did not grow up together or know anyone that knows each other. You take only what they give you and return less or the same, never quite knowing who’s who or what. It’s a conveyor belt of mannequin faces in and out of your life daily. No one breaks the order as it’s a basic be cordial and exist type of deal. You don’t even feel relevant but you all know this is your place now and you have to make due. My favorite thing to reminisce on is my change of life. In my home country I can be wild and prolific. In this country you keep your head down and work hard. When you throw having a family in the circle, you become a cycle of a Untitledwork-sleep-work-sleep, survival pattern. There is no neighbor to beg a cup of sugar because you’ve probably never met them. There is no family ‘yard’ to bank on for even family visits are limited and ‘hosted’. Life is difficult by tenfold is you are undocumented. This experience is enough to break the strongest man and reduce him to a fledgling beggar. Feeling unconquered with every action. Living becomes a treasure map of constantly selecting the best and safest risky option that allows you to survive but not get deported. The inherent shock, uncertainty and uneasiness mars you for years to come but are lessons that keep you grounded. A karma that isn’t quite explained. There is also the enigma of being grateful to have the opportunity to live in a more advanced, safe country but hating its people. Seeing them as useless, undeserving and unfairly privileged for never having to struggle. Forgiving them only at the thought of your child being as lucky as they are. Alas, the joy of the migrant life comes from what you build and become for yourself. Lacking the traditions of your native society forces you to form your own curve. Forces you to pick what you want from this new culture and shamelessly discard the parts that do nothing but disgust you and shit on your values. It isn’t until you accept your situation and develop a life that is concurrent with your needs and budget, conditions and limitations that you begin to truly live. No longer existing but aggressively acing and progressing. The spark in life comes in letting go of the struggle and feeling winded and embracing the vulgarities you’re thrown. The dust will settle when you boldly and happily face the good, bad and the ugly while providing an acceptable life for those you are responsible for.

Chocolate Covered Strawberries….

This is a flashback post that had been written back in Oct. 22nd, 2011, after sullen times.

I know a lot you can relate as relationships go through a lot of trials; please enjoy.

He sent me chocolate covered Strawberries today…
A bear and request that made me say….
I’d marry the man of my dreams, my soldier….
When I came home he also cooked, made a lovely dinner….
I ate in admiration and loved every last drop….
I ate and watch his every move and knew he’d have my back….

For a second I felt we were right back where we started….
Right under the tambarind tree, when the day ended…..
I flashback to that first time love, such care…..
Without a doubt, I reassured myself I was gonna bring that back…..

No more fights I told myself…..
No more stress over things that can’t be helped…..
I got all the love I needed right before my eyes…..
It was the same love from simpler times…..
It just lost its way and I know it was glad to be back…..

Hand and foot I promised myself and him in my heart…..
Just like the old days we’ll never be apart…..
I lost my muchness for a tat…..
But by God’s grace, I got it back….

I had a flashback on the old me, fighting for sides….314667_10150875828965442_659250831_n
Refusing to sleep in my own sheets…..
Loving how his voice trailed when we both fell asleep……
and so as an introduction, I gave him my promise…..

I licked and sucked and rubbed…..
I treated him like the King he is…..
I kissed and pinned his back to the sheets….
Made him relax while I made of him, a feast…..

Enthralled in every ounce of pleasure…..
I gave him what he liked best, me as his rider……
All inhibitions aside, all insecurities behind……
I rode to my heart’s content….
Caught his rhythm and rode until he was spent…..

Then I dressed him just like the many first times…..
Fed him crystal liquid to his parchness was quenched….
Turned down the lyrics to the talent I wish I could soothe him with…..
Watched in the candlelight as his eyes fought their last fight……

And in a long time, things were as they were…..
Perfect and tender…..
I will get my rest, knowing tomorrow will be another wonder…….


Every time I think about my family and friends I think about the moment we came home with our child. How, in our moments of need those who offered even a single text were so appreciated. Also, how funny it is that those who did aren’t related. It’s easy for people to be there for you in dire straits,  because once they have a heart they will feel prompted to help you fix your reality. These are the people you let celebrate with you during your amazing moments. I recently partied with a 60 year old man who curse, drinks, works hard and fucks like crazy. I said to my husband, he hasn’t for one moment since I’ve known him not live his life. We have learned a lot from him and have preemptively made sure we brought an appropriate crowd around him. This crowd I noticed are people who just like him, and us, have absolutely one goal in life and that’s to live like your being paid to have fun! We gradually aligned ourselves with people of this nature. This gradually caused a lot of others to move in another direction from us.

We. Have. Never. Regretted. This.

I learned very quickly after giving birth, that you are only as strong as the people you surround yourself with. You are undoubtedly, your friends/peers. You will find an attitude and sometimes a change in your belief around some people, then later wonder why the hell did I do/say that. I really don’t do/like that kind of thing, you might think. In this moment u realize the weeds in your life. They change you for the worse because they are pulling you very far away from being yourself. Govern your life, be true to yourself and let those who cannot handle the charge, fall right off. There is never any shame in really liking a second slice of cake in a room full of nazi dieters. Fuck! Why was cake there anyway! Balance your life, by balancing those who have a say in it.


No Infant Loss Awareness

I just had the worse conversation about infant loss with someone’s husband. It ended with me taking 2 shots of Brandy just to numb my own pain; empathetic though they may be. I get it, men would never understand completely. I imagine being married to one that classifies the pains as ‘those emotions’ and saying they can’t deal with it, as the most difficult thing. Regardless, if the loss was with them or not. Worse when they aren’t open to working towards having a child and saying I declared that from before. Yes, we all get caught up in our ideas and hopes that things will pan out but how detrimental and stuck this woman must feel. Realizing, who should be her spouse for a lifetime is completely dismissive. Why didn’t she make a better choice for herself? So many emotions and compassion for another human being has completely fell off the grid in this relationship. Even sadder is that, It’s a very young marriage and honestly should have been a case of ‘you aren’t what I need, so I will appreciate you from a far, while I find someone on the very same page as me’.  I had to get my feelings out, and so I sat in the dark and typed away. No idea what I would write, fucking with the font I just knew I had to flesh things out. It’s probably the worst time for me to have discussion like this when my own life and emotions are in whirlwind. However, I felt so at a loss and hurt, I was holding my child during this conversation, watching him take little breaths as he napped on my chest and I just sank deeper and deeper into a weakness that is so familiar to me, that I couldn’t stop my emotions. I don’t know if its selfishness or just the genetic make-up of this individual but the scourge that came to the frontal lobe! Thoughts that I held back, that I wanted to lash on him just couldn’t be put in words…just mental pictures. Zero moral compass. Zero respect for life and death.

In the Christmas Special episode of Call the Midwives Series 1, I felt for Mrs. Jenkins so bad. When Nurse Lee brought her to the cemetery to visit her children she lost while working in a workhouse, I lost it when her head fell as she kneeled on one of the graves. I’m not religious or spiritual but I wanted to pray and meditate for the heart of this man. I wanted to sit in silence for a few hours and channel loads of good energy his way, in the hopes that it would strike even the smallest living nerve that would trigger a mustard seed size of care. His flippant nature toward this issue in someone who should be so import to him scared me, what else can a person like this be capable of. How dead is he, and what torture did he endure in his life to be so desensitized.  Infant loss, no matter how far along or the circumstance is ugly and hard and miserable and torturing and confusing and guilt ridden; an open wound with absolutely no chance of closure. It’s a moment that brings you to your knees in the heights of what should be one of the most joyous times in your life. A tumultuous war of emotions with yourself, and your child and with your partner, yourself and your child. It’s that look on people’s faces every time they see you and remember and how they dance around the subject because it’s too sensitive when you want to scream about it. It’s that nagging feeling every time you see the innocence, pureness and beauty of a newborn babe, safely coddled by doting parents. It’s the replaying of that moment you had with your own who just should not have left; but sadly did too soon. And finally, the forced smile when others unbeknownst inquire about your own offspring and you shyly conjure up a pacifying answer. I felt mortified so much more knowing that October is infant loss awareness month. I just can’t imagine, what is the use of a spouse one can’t lean on?