The Bare, Naked Truth

Being vulnerable isn't one of my strong points.


If I could have any super power that I wanted, I think I would ask for invincibility just so that I would never have to be vulnerable...EVER AGAIN!


I didn't always used to be this way...I didn't, you can ask my ICE. He just said to me the other day:

"What happened...you weren't always like this...I just don't understand."

Yes, I used to be sure about my decisions and about myself and about my value. I used to have haters galore.


It happened 10 years ago this time. Them babies. That entire ordeal. It just took everything good that I had left in me. It killed my spirit. It shattered my already broken foundation. It altered my reality...it damaged me beyond compare.

It is what it is. I do not try and make excuses for it. I do not try and burden people with my sorrow or my problems. I do not try and let people know how badly I am really hurting. But I will try and explain the method to my madness and rehash why that was the straw that broke Luv's back.

Yes, I had a horrific childhood. I know this and I had accepted this BUT what I didn't accept at the time was that I was unworthy of being loved and incapable of giving and receiving it. I had determined that my parents were too screwed up to effectively love anything else because they didn't even love themselves. I had determined this at the age of 7.

I don't drink because I don't think I would stop because quiet as it is kept, my father is/was an alcoholic. Not too sure what he is now because I ain't checking for him. I know the power of genetics. I know how much environment over nature can influence a person. I understood the dynamics of this probably by the age of 8.


I say all of this to say that I was very skilled at identifying the situations around me for what they were, processing them, and discarding them in such a fashion that they did not damage me...did not take away from my emotional cup.


I remember almost everything about my childhood, but this one incident stands out to me because it has always puzzled me why I held on to this memory...why it bothered me so. I was in first grade. My mother and father were going through one of their violent spells. My father tried to smash my mother's head in. My mother left. She eventually came back to get us. We were hiding out in my aunt's apartment. I remember that on most occasions that someone else would come pick us up from school because I don't think my mother wanted to chance meeting up with my father and they got to humbugging out in front of the school. But on this particular occasion, she got us herself. I remember we stopped at this grocery store where we ran into my 1st grade teacher. I remember my mother feeling some kinda way about running into my teacher. I don't know if it was because she was white or if it was because we stated we were going home and she made mention that she thought we lived elsewhere. I remember Ms. Lovely looking at my mother and patting her and telling her that if she needed anything...any type of assistance to just let her know. I remember my mother mumbling as we were getting into the car that we couldn't stop at that grocery any more on the way from school.


I think in that instance I learned that no matter what, you never let anyone know how bad it really is.


Fast forward: So, up until the incident with my twins, I had seen and learned a lot of dysfunction; but, I was able to insulate myself from its brunt force by believing that I could rise above the madness. That I could escape, scratchfree. I believed that once I got away from my parents and that environment that I would be okay. That people would instantly love me. That I would prove that I could and would be different. That I would love myself. (and I did) And most importantly that I would love my kids...but the powers that be were telling me that I wouldn't be able to have kids...so, I would just adopt...no need or time to cry about something I couldn't control I needed to keep that forward momentum.

I allowed this dude who I knew was sweet on me to come visit. He had been sweet on me for a long minute. When I was 16, I used to feel him undress me with his eyes. He was like 29. He didn't phase me, I was going to marry Michael Jordan. I had no time for little people. So, anyways, this dude had caught up with me on one of my many trips home and asked if he could stay with me if he came to visit the nation's capital. Yeah, why not? I had had plenty of dudes stay with me and nothing happen. There was no need for alarm, right? Plus, I wasn't 16 any more. I wish I could say that I didn't have any reservations, but I did. So much so that it prompted me to call this dude and ask what his intentions were, explaining that if he thought he was gonna get some, he should cancel his tix could he was gonna be severely disappointed. I told him that I didn't like him like that and that I was a virgin, saving it for my husband(I had been celibate for 2 1/2 years but he didn't need to know that). So he comes and the first night everything is cool. The second night he rapes me. I confide in some people and then try to push on. I didn't want people worrying about me and I partly blamed myself. I had doubts, I should have told him he couldn't come. Yes, no means no, but still....


Shortly thereafter, I found out I was pregnant with twins. I was soooooooooooooo excited. I charted and plotted everything about them. I was so in love. My pregnancy was very difficult. I found out that there are a lot of ignorant people in this world disguising themselves as intelligent people. While I was fighting for my babies lives, there were people praying that I would lose them since I wouldn't abort them because I must be out of my mind to want to have a rapist baby. (Funny, cuz I only looked at them as being MY BABIES) See, them babies were my chance to prove to myself that I could love. Them babies were my chance to prove to myself that I could be loved. Them babies were my chance to start my own family and break the cycle. To show that God hadn't forgotten about me and that He would allow some sunshine to shine on me...when them babies died it was like someone had turned out the lights.


When my babies died, I was lost. I didn't know what to hold on to as truth. I knew God could not try me with anything evil because HE is pure. But, I couldn't figure out why He allowed me to go through something so awful after all I had been through in life. I couldn't understand why He thought I could go through something so heinous, and all alone. I couldn't understand why everyone wanted to hurt me, when all I wanted out of life was to be happy. To love and to be loved. I couldn't understand why I was constantly turning the other cheek just to be crapped on again and again. So, as the days turned into months, I stopped talking to people. I just wanted to be left alone. If I was by myself, the only one who could treat me badly would be me. And being alone all the time, I started allowing the negativity that had been chasing me for so long to catch up with me. Then I stared listening to it, digesting it, and before long, I was believing and living it.


See, it's hard to make a person understand what I was before because a lot of them only can see what's in front of them. I am just a fraction of what I used to be. I mean, I was so fierce, I used to hate on myself. (smile) I used to travel on a shoestring budget. I used to give gifts straight from the heart. I used to have fun and really lived the mantra that what you thought of me was none of my business. I used to do so many things and I still can, and I will, it's just..

I see the way you look at me, I see the pity in your eyes, you feel sorry for me...for what? my story is not that different from someone else. We all go through our trials and tribulations. We all have to carry our own torture stake. I can't take your help because it comes with strings attached. I can't take your help because you don't really see me. You see this shell of me that stands before you, you don't see the me I used to be or the me that I am going to be. You don't see that you have yet to make me feel human, to make me feel connected.


I am vulnerable with my Ice because he knows my story. He does not pity me. He does not patronize me. He gives it to me straight, no chaser. He has seen what I can do. He believes in me. He loves me. He connects with me, letting me know he knows I am human.


"It's something about the human touch that can make a person feel safe, it's something about a smile that can lift the heaviest of spirits, it's something about tears that can cleanse the soul, it's something about letting go that will push us into the future."

~Gotta Luv Moi, Cuz I Surely Do (Smooches)