On Bended Knee

bended knee

I eased into the conversation like, “Hey, I know it’s been a minute since we’ve talked and I’m sorry I haven’t made time for you, lately. I really don’t wanna cry & be all dramatic about this…but,” I began.

God answered, “It’s okay. I’m here.”

As the words began to get stuck in my throat, I decided that this prayer would be straight from my heart to God’s ears. Ordinarily, when it’s been this long since I’ve prayed, I try to be a little more formal with it. You know, get down on my knees and speak to Him aloud. But since words seemed to escape me, I settled on this method.

Before I knew it, my tear ducts runneth over and the only thing I could muster up to say to Him was, “I’m sorry.”

I continued in silence, speaking through only my tears, “I feel like I’ve failed You. I’m so ashamed. It’s not even me this time saying that I want You, God, but I need You. In every area of my life. I want to surrender everything to You.” The tears that were once silent erupted into a desperate weep.

praying woman

God said, “Is that what you really want?” Yes, I nodded, then no. “I do, God… but I don’t know if I can,” I bargained, as if He weren’t the Sovereign One who knows all. “God, I do, You know I do, but I honestly don’t know if I’m ready,” I struggled to negotiate. He replied, “Well, take your time. I won’t beg you and I won’t make you choose, but I’ll be here when you decide.” Almost as if He were saying, “I don’t want you if you’re not ready because I have plans for you that will require your full, undivided attention.”

Lord only knows how tired I am of going back & forth, straddling the fence. I’d heard this notion before, of God wanting us to choose Him, but I’d never understood the weight of that idea until this precious moment.

What was I “afraid” of anyway? What was so great in my life right now that I wasn’t willing to give up for something better? The reality is there isn’t anything in my life so wonderful that it couldn’t be improved. I’m not exactly thriving in any particular area of my life. At best, I’m comfortable. I couldn’t name one thing that I was truly afraid to let go of. I don’t go out, as it is. I don’t like the taste of alcohol. And I’d much rather save myself, my body, for someone who really deserves that sacred part of me. I mean, by no means am I a saint or the virgin Mary, but what I mean is, sex is a highly intense and intimate act that I truly believe should be reserved for someone who values you, rather the few, pardon the phrase here, “nothin ass niggas” that I’ve regrettably & irresponsibly given it to. Ugh.

Before I could get into a lengthy monologue about all of my transgressions, the Tamela Mann tune that was playing when I first started had stopped. I sat there in silence. A few short moments later, I felt a physical peace come over me as a smile donned my face. I nodded. Yep. Then I nodded, once again just to confirm.

 

-TheRealBlackCarrieBradshaw ™

bended knee

Lessons Learned.

DL-5973 (2)

If there’s one thing 2018 has taught me it’s how to let go.

This year has shown me that holding onto things that aren’t meant for you will cause more harm than good. I know this is as cliché as it gets, but this is more for me than anyone else. This is my lesson, albeit a lesson that I’m still learning.

I wanted to scream so badly, “Don’t be the girl who never leaves him alone.” We all have that friend. Some of us have been that friend. You know the one. The one who is loyal to a fault and no matter what that no good ass ninja does, she still won’t leave his ass alone. I don’t mean this as a diss. I don’t know a woman alive who hasn’t had that one who took her down through there.

I had a revelation this week, as I was in route to do a drive by on my ex. I argued with myself while heading home only to make a detour that was out of my way because “I just had to know.” “Know what,” I answered out of my mouth. Whether he was home. Whether he was alone. Whether or not I’d see that same car that I’d spotted him get into before. I went back and forth with myself, out loud inside my head.

“What difference does it make, D? Even if you do see the car there, what’s that going to prove? Furthermore what’s that going to change,” I asked myself. My heart pounded, the closer I got, almost like I could hear it in my ears. I turned my radio down, as if that made a difference on whether or not  he could see me if he happened to be outside. A brief moment of logic almost made me change my course and just go home. But I decided against it. After all, I was there now.

I think I was actually shaking as I turned onto the street. My stomach was doing flips. And even though I seemed over him on most days, the thought of seeing that car parked there again made me sick. “Why are doing this to yourself?” I searched myself for a valid answer until I came up with this.

The reason we put ourselves through what seems to be a torment, is actually a necessary evil. I concluded that while I didn’t want to see that, maybe the reality of it would bring my heart to the realization that our relationship was over. See apparently, my heart & my head were still in disagreement. I feel like maybe it was my head that led me there, in hopes of proving to my heart the evidence of what the mind already knew. I know it sounds crazy, but when women continue to stay with a man who has broken her heart, it’s not because she’s stupid or oblivious to the facts of what he’s done. In her head, she knows what it looks like, but that doesn’t negate what she feels.

A Word on Mental Health

drawn-depression-depression-anxiety-528837-5731982

There are days when I look in the mirror & don’t like the woman I see. There are some days when I don’t even recognize myself.

Two days before my 35th birthday, I had an emotional crisis that was serious enough, for the first time in my life, to make an appointment with a doctor because I was afraid of what would happen if I didn’t. I remember calling my friend, Hope, into the bathroom stall at work and literally crying, hysterically, on her shoulder & I couldn’t even tell you why. I went home and in dramatic fashion, laid on the bathroom floor, weeping.

Depression is real.

I’ve had friends ask me, “But DeJa, why are you sad?” Depression is so much deeper than sadness. For me, it’s an unexplainable sense of hopelessness. “But DeJa, what triggers it?” I don’t know. But I do know depression is real.

I know what you’re probably thinking, I don’t “look” depressed. I’ve struggled to come to terms with this myself. After all, nobody wants to be depressed. “You know what, I’m just having a bad day,” I told myself. But how many days go by before it’s more than just a bad day? For the longest time, I refused to keep the appointment because I didn’t want the confirmation of knowing that something was wrong with me or the stigma that came along with it. But the alternative was to suffer in silence.

My personal journey has led me to the place where I am now, an advocate for raising awareness & destigmatizing this disease. I’m currently pursuing my Master’s degree at UA Little Rock so I can educate communities on what mental illness looks like and the resources that are available.

If you are feeling depressed or suicidal, you can text 741741 a crisis worker will text you back immediately and will continue to text with you. Many people don’t like talking over the phone and would feel more comfortable texting. 
This is a free service for anyone. 

#youAREloved #youAREenough #youareNOTalone 💚✌🏼😘

If you would like to join me in raising awareness for mental illness, please share this information.

 

I F**king Hate Him

downloadI saw him again, today. So much for wishful thinking…

Now I know it was just yesterday that I posted about tossing my coin into the sea in hopes of never seeing him again, yet, low & behold, I’m minding my own business, stepped outside for some fresh air when “Boom”. I won’t even bother with details this time because I’m just so over it. At first, it was kinda cute, almost endearing, even. Now, it’s just annoying as fuck.
Immediately, when I saw his face (& even as I writing this post), one side of my lip curled up, I quickly halted and once again, made an about face. I walked in a mist of rain to avoid getting any closer to him. I’m so freaking over this.
download
As I was walking back, I had a real nasty feeling. In the midst of playing that brief moment back, I felt my mind say, “I fucking hate him“. I had to catch myself real quick because #1 that’s not even me and #2 that’s a bit much, even for me. Aside from being morally wrong, hating him isn’t going to make me feel better.
images (2)
It’s no secret that I, like many people, use anger as a defense mechanism. It’s like I’d rather be mad at you than sad over you, if that makes sense. I feel like, if I’m angry, then I can control that & maybe even make you feel a way, but if I’m sad, then that means that I still care too much. I’ve come to realize that when people say they hate someone, what they really mean is they hate what that person did to them, how they made them feel. And typically, it involves a sense of betrayal by the person that they love (not hate). Saying, “I hate you” comes from a lack of words that express what we really feel, which is hurt. When someone says, “I hate you,” what they’re trying to say is, “You hurt me.” The truth is, they probably actually still love you more than they have the words (or courage) to say. The brighter side is that you can heal from hurt, but hate only deepens the pain.

-TheRealBlackCarrieBradshaw

 

 

 

 

 

The Right Thing. The Write Thing.

design desk display eyewear
Photo by energepic.com on Pexels.com

I have no idea why but I’m feeling so anxious right now.

Like, I can’t get still. I can’t get my mind still. I’m physically uncomfortable sitting in this chair, trying to adjust my position, shifting my weight, changing the setting on this heater beside me. My focus is out of focus and the only thing that feels right is to write. Continue reading “The Right Thing. The Write Thing.”

Daily Affirmation

I’ve always believed in the power of words. I’m a writer, after all, it kinda goes with the gig. My life is filled with hand-written inspirations of yellow sticky notes in my home, in my car, in my office. In my purse.

For no apparent reason yesterday, everything was going well when suddenly, I felt uninspired and overwhelmed. I wallowed in it for a moment before quickly deciding to change my own mind.

I woke up this morning, unsettled. For whatever reason, he was on my mind. My thoughts almost held me hostage again until I said this aloud, “If it brings you happiness, then it brings me peace.” I like the idea that whatever is bringing joy into someone else’s life brings me a sense of peace, despite the fact that it may hurt or inconvenience me. I’m choosing to put my feelings aside for someone else’s happiness, creating a peace within that. To some people, that may sound extreme. It may seem like I’m choosing them over me. But I find profound strength is choosing to be at peace regardless of someone else’s choices even if it hurt.

-TheRealBlackCarrieBradshaw