My Scar Pt 1

The other day I drove to my job, which is about 5 minutes up the road. No problems...piece a cake. The next day I got behind the wheel and the mere thought of getting on to the highway drove me to tears. I really thought I was alright, and that I would be one of those people who were mentally strong enough to overcome a traumatic experience like that... I was wrong.

I've never felt anxiety like that... Before I even left my housing complex my hands were sweating like I just finished washing them. My heart was thumping hard and loud. I could hear it in my body making African warrior rhythms. I couldn't get comfortable in my seat.... my seat belt was choking me like a noose and I felt as if I was about to panic. Luckily I was with my friend so she drove me to school, but needless to say I was embarrassed.

So many things have changed since I survived being hit by an 18-wheeler. Of course there is the physical trauma that never leaves. The pain might momentarily subside but the aches and pains are deep, and my epidermis layers will never return to perfection. I think about this scar I’ll have and wonder how it will really affect me down the road. My mother keeps saying “It could be worse” Which is SO true and I am thankful that it wasn’t, but there is still a part of me that thinks about this scar with sadness. Call it vanity, but I hate knowing that there will be a piece of my body that will be damaged forever.

Little Kids stare at my bandage everywhere I go. I’m sorry did I say little kids? I meant EVERYONE! I’m sure their imaginations are running rampant, trying to guess that happened to my arm. Some women ask what happened and I simply say “I was in a car accident”. Their curious eyes instantly change to pity expressions and I hear “Oh my Well Bless your little heart!!!” in the thickest Deep South accent. That just makes it worse.

When it all boils down, it’s the mental baggage that really had a hold on me. I don’t want to be the object of pity for the rest of my life. I don’t want to have to keep explaining my scar everywhere I go. I don’t want to feel the need to wear long sleeves in June. I don’t want this scar to manifest insecurities in my self-esteem. I just don’t I want to go back to my regular life!!

But that was in the beginning, and now I think about that word that I so earnest long for....

Regular? Ordinary? customary? Habitual??? Since when is mediocrity an acceptable alternative? I now know that my “regular” life was only sub-par, and I am in the midst of a second opportunity to be more. This accident was more a blessing than I thought it was. I won’t let my scar be motivation for pity, but be a vehicle for my praise. I wondered why God couldn’t just let me walk away unscathed, and in perfect health. But God is letting me and the rest of the world know that my scar is more than just an ugly skin imperfection....it is deep...... meaningful.....beautiful....it is my testimony........



.....to be continued

Back again...

SO here I am again trying not to pull a mental hamstring, since being out of the writing game for so long. Be patient while I loosen up again. UPDATES: There hasn't been a whole lot going on in my life. I have been working my behind off, trying to get my grades up, so I can transfer to a real University again (mission accomplished). After taking classes this past semester I have passed all of them with A's and I am ready to get this degree. I got my acceptance letter in the mail on Friday. I've never been so hungry for school in all of my life. I'm usually the one laid back and riding the waves on this academic journey, but now I am on a tiny life raft trying to paddle my way to the shore. I GOT to have it. I NEED to have it. There is no quesiton about it. I see the finish line and nothing will get in my way.
I am currently employeed at a Kohls here where I live, and working in retail is quite the experience. I have a hard enough time picking up after myself, let alone some random teenagers whose mamas never taught them how to hang a shirt and put it back where they found it. Seriously, I think some of them are just doing it on purpose. Next time I see a girl walk in to my dressing room with 4 shirts, that are identical in style and size but different in color, I'm gonna have to pull her to the side and tell her THE COLOR DOESN'T CHANGE THE FIT! Pick one and leave my store. But all in all, its not my dream job but I grin and bare it and pick up my check every Friday. Its only temporary (thats what I keep telling myself)
Other than that the monotony of school, work, and church has been consistant. But consistantly good. I love church more and more and I try my hardest to soak in as much as i can to carry it throughout my week. But the Day to day spiritual walk had been a rocky road to say the least. And I'm walking on it barefooted, and in need of guidance. Its crazy how the fire slowly dies after being so spiritually elevated. But i will Expand on that rollercoaster in a later blog.
But other than the slight annoyances at work, and working on my own spiritual discipline, life is turning into a beautiful thing. I have made a lot of great new friends here, and I'm becoming more comfortable here. Will I stay in Atl? Who knows... But I am going to take advantage of the everything while I am here. A few more updates, but that will come tomorrow. G'night readers.

Deidre Nichole

Valentine's day...(belated)

I woke up with absolutely no expectations of affection or a spoken I love you from a possible secret admirer. I wanted to treat V-day as any other day. I didn't want to take the bitter approach, or the Single Angry Black Woman route, so i thought it best to pretend the day didn't exist. But of course its not really possible. Once I stepped outside, my neighbors ENORMOUS heart flag was practically slapping me in my face whenever the wind blew. Every store and restaurant was adorned in every shade of Repulsive Red, and Putrid Pink (Crayola should think adding those colors to their 72 Crayon set. Just a thought) Every car I drove by was stuffed full of balloons causing people to drive like idiots speeding home. Little kids holding sweet cards tight to their chests, like it was precious gold. Walking proud because they can say "Mommy I picked it out myself" Good for you Kid. Now move out of the street.
Maybe my refuge could be found at the gym. It should be relatively quiet, leaving me to sweat, lift, lunge, treadmill, and bike in agony in my own privacy. I was right about one thing. It was a quiet day, but do you think I could escape the nauseating decorations? Of course not. Hearts hung from treadmills, and televisions. They even had the nerve to have not one, but TWO baskets of Hershey kisses at the counter. I thought this was the gym? Are they trying to sabatoge all the hard work I just did? If I didn't have any sense I should have stolen the basket and let them follow my trail of foil wrappers to a bathroom stall where I was chocolate covered in a diabetic coma. Some nerve.
Home was my safe haven. My plan was this. Come home from the gym, Have a hot shower, wash my hair, put on some fresh PJ's, pop some corn, maybe indulge in come ice cream and watch my Season 2 Cosby show DVDs ( THANKS TOYA! LOVE YOU SIS). And maybe curl up with a good book. Beside the mass texts that I received all day, it was a a wonderful night. Simply put I was my valentine this year, and it was better than I thought it would be. I wasn't home thinking about why I didn't have someone to share the day with, I was just happy to be a single girl who found comfort on a day made to celebrate couples. After all you gotta love yourself, before you can love anyone else. Right?

To My Valentine

We celebrate unconditionals
and intentional gifts of adoration.
Thank you for
choosing me dear.
We've made it through
another year dear
"I love you" echoed for
coupled ears to hear
You shouldn't have
But I'm so glad you did.
Where would I be without you?
Forgiven of my past and saw
my tomorrow.
I borrowed your strength
powered like a rocket
Given a gift greater
than chocolate.
You sacrificed
for my future.
Selfless
epitome of Brave
Honesty
This is how love behaves.
Not for cool points
but because it was right.
Thank you for loving
enough to fight.
My valentine gave that
I might have better.
Gave me the greatest
of history's love letters.
My valentine will forever be,
the ones who made me truly free.




Happy Black History Month...

Love?

Sometimes, the promises I make to myself come back to bite me later. I promised myself that if the writing bug buzzed I would stop what I was doing, and put it down on paper (or on screen). So that is what I'm doing. Before I get on my soapbox here's a lil bit of my day. My afternoon was perfectly planned. Last night I stayed up all night studying for my economics Exam (capital "E" on exam just to emphasize it's intensity) I saw the sun rise, and heard the ducks flying over head. Needless to say, my eye lids were dying to close by the time I wobbled to the front of the class to hand in my exam. My plan was this... Go home, find a sweet treat to indulge myself in (Vienna fingers), strip down to my bra and panties, put in a movie, and drift into sleepy town before my next class. But instead of a movie I chose Sex and the City Season 4 Disc 1. As usual, while I listened to Ms. Carrie Bradshaw rant about love and relationships I couldn't help but do the same.

This particular episode was about soul mates and questions if there really is "the one" out there for every person. I really don't know how I feel about the idea of one person meant for another. Destined to find each other in this massive world. To tell you the truth, some days I believe it, other days I'm as cynical as a Cathy cartoon. There has been too many times when I had elevated hopes in certain men, and I was left disappointed and unsatisfied. I haven't really written any blogs about love, for fear of sounding like a mad black woman, but cupid has some serious explaining to do.

I've been single for about a year now, and it's not an easy thing. I'm not that kind of person who NEEDS to be with someone at all times, But being in the setting that I am in makes it harder because I'm single and without any type of real male prospects. No more late night phone conversations, no movies, no one to even wink at. The only crop I have to observe is at church, and most of those men have wives, girlfriends, babies, or just AIN'T RIGHT!

But this idea of "the one" got me thinking? I've had a few boyfriends (or guys I've talked to for an extended period of time), and after a break up I have always just written them off as just not the right guy for me. BUT there is one, that I can't seem to get off of my mind. Periodically I can find myself thinking about him when I hear a song, or see a romantic movie. And in a very deep down, far off place, I reserve a hope that he will be the one. That somehow our paths will cross again, and fate will work its magic . I really try not to think about him, but it's something I just can't shake.

Maybe he is to me what Mr. Big was to Carrie. They were lovers, boyfriend and girlfriend, good friends, and enemies. It's a trip how love works. I wish I could just deem him as another bad partner, but there has to be something that is keeping me attached to the thought of "us". Does it mean he's "the one" or am I just hanging on to something that has already come and gone. Like trying to hold onto a wave, or a catch a sweet breeze. I have NO IDEA. I'm just letting the thoughts run out through my fingertips. I guess I'll see how it will play out on life's stage. I just know I'm ready to find my co-star.

Martin Luther King Jr.

Here in the city of Atlanta is where Dr. Martin Luther King spent many years of his life. His home where he grew up is here in Atlanta. The church where MLK pastored , and the segregated public school where MLK graduated from is here in Georgia. There is a lot more history here than I could have imagined. It's a shame that through all my griping and moaning about living here I could experience something so meaningful.

My family and I decided to take a trip to the King Center in downtown Atlanta. I didn't really know what to expect, but the experience was one of the most memorable since I've moved here. As soon as you step onto the property the path up to the King Center is lined with the foot prints of the influential people in the fight for equality: Rosa Parks, Thurgood Marshall, Medgar Evers, Jesse Jackson. Even celebrities like Sidney Poitier, Lena Horne and Stevie Wonder. A statue of Ghandi greets you at the end of the walk way before you enter the building.

Inside is where it got really DEEP. You just feel and aura of reverence come over you, and it seems inappropriate to even sneeze or cough. You are saturated by the unforgettable words of Dr. King, as his speeches are played over the speakers. You don't have a choice but to stop in your tracks and listen. Listen to the intentional deep shake in his voice, to the intonation and pitch. All of those rhetorical tools can be taught in a voice and diction class, but the words are undeniable. Sermons and Speeches like that a pure and straight from the heart. That doesn't come from any classroom. It touches something deep. I don't care who you are. If you stop and listen, you will be effected.

The whole room just permeates with pride. A type of pride that today is shadowed, or exploited by the media. The definition of what being black is, has a totally different meaning from the past to now. Back in MLK's time black people fought for dignity. They would suffer the burning sands of hatred just to be thought of as equal. But today, we don't have the fight in us like they did, so we submit to mediocrity. Don't get me wrong, we can talk the talk, but not many will walk the walk like the black people of old.

Black people in the movement felt they "made it" when they were given access to things that should have already had. A front seat or a new school book to read. Today black people think the "made it" according to their bank rolls. Money doesn't mean anything if your character is out of wack.

That whole MLK center experience just really effected me. It made me want more for myself. Most black people in the past have accomplished a boat load more than I have, and they had access to half as much. I want to have pride in my accomplishments, I want to demolish mediocrity, and execute superficiality. The MLK Center showed me that it's time to step my life up a few (hundred) notches. There are black people who died for me to have a life worth living, and we as a people ( black or white alike) should take advantage of that opportunity, reach our potentials, and live a life of substance.

"When Evil men plot, Good men must plan

When Evil men burn and bomb
good men must build and bind.
When evil men shout ugly words of hatred,
Good men must commit themselves to the glories of love.
When evil men would seek to perpetuate an unjust status quo,
Good men must seek to bring into being a real order of justice."

-Martin Luther King Jr.

A Depiction of one of the marches.

A recreation of a jail cell Dr. King was confined to. Only big enough for a small bench to sit on.

A picture of a lynching in the South. "Southern trees bear a strange fruit"

The wagon that carried Dr. King's casket

Where Dr. Martin Luther King Jr and his wife Coretta Scott King lay to rest.

Winter Wonderland

These pictures are not of some ones house on the Northeast of the United States. And this isn't a picture of someone's house in the Midwest. These two pictures are of the front of my house, and my backyard in GEORGIA!! I was going to blog about the weather earlier this week, when is snowed on Wednesday, but it came and went so quickly that I thought it was just a fluke. But this morning while I was getting ready for church, I looked out the window and forgot where I was.

We're originally from Massachusetts so this weather doesn't faze us one bit, But these Atlanta driver could have swore they were in the midst of a blizzard. Hazard lights flashing, and windshield wipers flapping like there was no tomorrow. While we're in out Envoy SUV cruising by like its just a little rainy day. It's funny how inventive people get when snow is piled on top of your car and you don't have the proper equipment. I saw a women using her umbrella to try and push the heavy snow off of her windshield. Church Bulletins were folded and used as makeshift scrapers. It was kinda funny. But we did help a few people who seemed baffled as to what to do. I think some people we actually considering waiting in the church, until the 'blizzard" passed.

But it was good to see some kids enjoy their first real snow storm. Immediately after church they all made snowballs and had a mini fight in the back of church. I don't know where their parent were though, because I'd be whooping my child if they were rolling around in the snow in their church clothes. When we drove up up to our house, all of the neighborhood kids were laying flat their backs, trying to make snow angels. (Def didn't have enough snow for that, but they don't know any better) lol it was cute.

I really thought I escaped New England-esque weather when I came to GA... clearly I was wrong.

Forecast for next week: Sunny 55 degrees... I don't get it.