a Girl like me

     He told me last week that I was too mean and too guarded and that’s why he can't see me any longer. 

We are all entitled to opinions and I won't dispute it. I am currently mean. I am not open. I am as one guy told me recently, a bitch. But it's not that simple, I am much more complex than that. 

I was born and raised in Chicago, Woodlawn/Washington Park neighborhood to be exact. I grew up around the corner from 63rd and King Drive.  Which if you are Chicago familiar is not the safest part of town. 

Google Image of my childhood home

In most cities, why is it a man who stood for peace, King drive/street is always the roughest, maybe it’s a coincidence. Much like me growing up in not the best of circumstances but turning out to be a decent individual. My family nicknamed me apple cake and apple pie. (No, not because my head was big like an apple!) I was told I was the sweetest child and there was no fruit sweeter than a good apple. I would agree, I was the sweetest, nicest, and kindest child. I was a good student, I never talked back, and I wouldn't hurt a fly. My mother would say I was bottled up unicorns and rainbows and she’s not quite sure where I got it from because the world is a rough place and if I didn't get a rough exterior it would eat me alive. When I was 5, a neighbor boy hit me in the face. My mom dragged me outside to get my lick back. I was like he said he was sorry, isn't that enough! It’s just purely a circumstantial that my personality now has some extra spice.

We could talk about my experiences in foster care, losing my mother to gun violence, losing my great-grandmother to heart disease, losing my grandmother to cancer, having an alcoholic absentee father, having clueless teachers, moving to in the projects, my house burning down while I was home and my arm being permanently damaged, having a foster mother who is constantly disappointed, having siblings who don't talk to me, even being harassed by the Chicago police, the men (all stories for another day). It’s disheartening but it’s not the reason I'm currently not myself. These experiences are a part of my story and have made guarded. Most who have met me, regard me as the funny girl next door, but recently I have I become rather cynical. 

My personality has become a combination of a lifetime filled with injustices, feeling like I have the weight of the world on my shoulders, and it has made me emotionally exhausted. Black people are being murdered in the street, cops are being called just for existing, white people are whiting (get ya'll cousins), that damn president for the lat 4 years, and general people angst, and frankly I'm fed up. I don't know when I will get to be me again. One of my exes once described me as bottled up sunshine, he said seeing me happy literally brightens everyone’s day. But sadly, I’ve run out of sunshine to give...

I left my beloved Chicago in August of 2020 for Arizona in a 2-day adventure with my ex-boyfriend (It’s a wonder we can still speak without wanting to murder one another). I am trying to escape the madness to go and finding my happy. There are days I miss my city: the L, downtown, the food, the amazing skyline, the fact I know everyone around me. With the good there is also the bad and I can’t yet go back. The city inspired a bitterness in my heart that I never knew before and my happiness has been depleted.

The men depleted my willingness to love and trust. The women depleted my willingness to befriend and be dependable. The jobs depleted my abilities to care about anything or anyone. I found myself lost in my city, a city I once knew like the back of my hand.  I had an inability to see who/what was really for me. I lost my inner voice/ intuition. I had become what I hated, a bitter, scorned woman. I was going through the motions just to keep up with everyone else and I hated myself. In July of 2020, I attempted to take my own life, trying to quiet all the noise in my head. I was spiraling. I reached out to one of my best friends and she could see the hurt, and offered to help me leave. So here I am in Arizona. Arizona is so beautiful it provides a light I don’t yet see in myself.

Now I know what you are thinking, broken people shouldn’t be dating. You’re right. I am broken, a shell of my former self that was looking for herself in relationships, jobs, and friendships that didn’t serve me. They broke me down and I probably didn’t do them any favors either.  I escaped Chicago so that I might pour back into myself and for the last month I have never felt better.  Maybe that is why in my Black History Month blog it was so hard to read those stories, they reminded me of fighting my own demons and all I had been through, and will go through, and how I have to continue to fight.

Was that guy right? He was. I am mean. I am not currently filled with unicorns and rainbows, more piss and vinegar. I am more guarded, protective, and still healing. I hope to get back to where I was before I took out my emotions on those around me, trying to hurt them before they hurt me.  So a girl like me, who grew up in not the easiest of surroundings has become what I never thought possible. How does a light lose its light? I thought lights were supposed light others around them, I was wrong. Lately, I have spiteful moments, I cry more now than I ever have. Some things happen outside of my control and some things I allow to take hold. I had to change my environment to change my response. 

In time, I hope to let go of some of the extra spice, and rebuild my inner light brighter than ever. But for now, I will settle for the rainbows and sunshine in Arizona.