It's not Black or White to me

Do people who think they know me, actually know me?

Thinking...about the conversation with my Aunt Star (the year before she died?), where we discussed my hesitation to the idea of dating white guys. Not for lack of attraction or connection or anything else, but because of the way I grew up - the town, the school, the cliques and racist undertones of everything. Feeling like an outsider, always different. I didn't want to deal with more of that. Likely, racism against me from the other person's family and friends or judgment from everyone else, society. I just wanted to avoid the possibility of it happening. I was done with that stuff. I didn't live there anymore, but those fears followed me, even in the land of diversity and acceptance. All types of guys (especially Black) talked to me in KOP. But I took a chance, 2 years after she died, and asked a guy out, a white guy at work. It was not a good relationship, but had nothing to do with race, just our personalities clashing.

Would she be proud of me? For trying and being more open? For standing up for myself at that job, even though I got reprimanded? I think so. She was strong.

I talked to different races over the years, tried to date when I had a connection. So many false starts. And moving back to here, the town where I grew up...away from the diversity of Philly. Here...you're expected to be a certain way. And I never fit in. In school times, anyway. But I don't care now.

So, ten years (moved away and back) of being "single" and finally I have a romantic relationship again? With an older white guy. Then a younger white guy. Black guys around here don't seem interested enough to make a move. And the 2 that did (in 2012), weren't from around here anyway. But, it didn't work out. I can't be made to feel bad about myself...that won't make me date you. And you can't talk bad about my family, all the races and skin colors, the kids. No. We are who we are. It was a surprise that the white guys in this area were so interested in me. Never was an option in the past. Maybe it became like a victory to me...I was finally beautiful to them. Not just the shy little black girl. So why not take what was offered? If I feel it, I feel it.

People think they know me. My "preference"? Based on recent years. No, that's not it. I prefer color. I'm attracted to contrast of skin and hair with interesting features. Dark hair and dark eyes. Ethnic-looking. Tall. I'd rather have a big guy than someone too thin. But have I dated a guy with all that? Not really. I'm not searching for some ideal person. Looks aren't anything. Personality, humor, intelligence...those qualities matter. Race, religion, job...it doesn't determine how I feel about someone. And what I feel is what determines who you are to me. If I love you...

But people don't ask, they don't notice. They don't look back and follow the whole story of me. They look at one chapter, what they think it means, what it means to them. I see it. No one said it yet. This time. But I see it. Or maybe I'm just paranoid. Maybe no one even cares anymore. I'm trying not to care.

Do you know what it means to me? I follow my heart. I do what I feel is right for me at the time. If it's this person, then it's this person. If I don't feel a connection with someone, then I'm not going to do it, I won't settle. I've given too many chances because someone was "nice" and I didn't see a reason not to date them, or try. But the feelings don't materialize. It's just not there. I'm honest about my feelings. I won't let anyone pressure me. But I'm not cruel, I don't play games and dump people. I don't like to hurt anyone. Because I hurt so much.

I try. I keep trying. But...I think I can't right now. I'm not whole. And my heart isn't my own, not yet. But I know I need to make changes. Also, not let the bitterness and anger in. Not become that person. It's in me. But I won't become that.

My first boyfriend...that beautiful Black man with the perfect smile and best laugh. The southern accent. My music man. He was one of the nicest and classiest people I've ever met. Maybe no one can compare to that. I saw a future with him. Didn't happen, we were too young and he didn't want to get serious. Faded away. He went back home. It was hard for me. Took 3 years to breathe again, try again. I did. But I don't even remember dates back then, who, when.

So much hope. For that person who would want what I wanted and understand me. I don't think I found anyone like that, until this last time. He wasn't white...he didn't identify as white, he didn't sound white, he wasn't from this country, his "family" was black, his friends. But everyone who sees the photos or met him will say white. It doesn't matter. And yes, he was totally gorgeous. It was nice to have that for once - the wild attraction, the butterflies when I looked at him. But his humor outshone it all. He changed me, inspired me, helped me see that future again, so much more this time. I was loved. I thought my time had come. Finally, a child? A husband? All the trying, the pain, the heartbreaks, led to this. He erased it all, and every man who came before. They didn't matter. He was my Joseph. But...that all went away too. It wasn't my time, he wasn't the man. Was he? I was so sure. I believed. My faith was strong. I wasn't wrong. I did everything I was meant to do. But. He's gone. I wasn't the one for him, in the end. So short of a time. I wasn't ready. I wasn't done. But.

Keep moving forward. Am I? I'm healing, the days are getting better. But still, it hurts.

Bleed Out. That was my life for too long. Months that felt like years. The highest of highs, the lowest of lows. I understand so much more. I lived so much in a short period of time. I learned so much. A different world.

If he listened to Blue October...if he understood what Justin had been through and has become now, would it help him? There are so many similarities with their lives and behaviors. I believed in him. I still believe in him. And I know it's possible...the kind of man he can be. The kind of life he could have. I tried to give it to him. Show him my world. Maybe it was too much, not right, not time. I don't know. But I made him happy. I helped him when he was in need. He loved talking to me, said he was blessed to have me. Someone else said I was a gift. I have all of that in my heart. I did that, I was that. Those are good things.

I'll be ok. I'm always ok, right? Even when I'm not. I want to get on the right path again. Focus, not keep thinking and dwelling on this and looking at other people's paths. I'm trying to make it all make sense in my head so my heart can cope with it. It doesn't yet.

I can't trust myself yet. I'm distant from others. Guarding my heart. Distrustful of happiness. It'll take time. I'm wounded and vulnerable and low on patience. It'll take time.

Fears and worries, self-sabotage. Trying not to let them in. It's hard though, especially when anxiety kicks in. But, that's the fight. I fight.

Do you know me yet?

My heart...

Having a hard time today. Too many thoughts, too many feelings. I want to cry or rage or scream. Even in my dreams I'm frustrated and hurting and confused. I'm so paranoid. Wondering what people say, worrying what people are saying, thinking. How stupid I am for dating the guys I dated. Different races, different ages -- but not the "right" ones. For trying and believing and being nice and compassionate. Not being mean enough or letting the evil thoughts out. Not being what I could be, what I've been in the past. I don't want to be that person again. I don't like feeling that way -- the toxicity, the drama. I don't like hurting people, I don't like confrontations and fights. I'll do it if it comes to that, if too much builds up and I snap. If I have to get my point across. But why am I going to start out like that? Can't I be mature and handle it in a different way? Work things out, have a discussion that's productive? Why is trying to be a good person a bad thing? Why do I want to cause someone to be mad at me and attack back? That's not pleasant. Arguing is not fun for me. I don't like to debate. Is that all that's accepted in this world? All that people know? If they're close to God, shouldn't they be working on being patient and kind and using compassion and mercy themselves? Shouldn't they want to behave better and move their lives forward? Am I the only one who can see that? They claim to be further ahead than this in me, more developed, more devoted, but they think I shouldn't be so good? I'm not nearly good enough, nowhere near righteous. I'm still learning, just becoming who I can be. Finding my purpose. I keep falling off the path. Sometimes I just don't even want to fight anymore or try anymore. My body, my mind, my soul, won't let me give up. I conditioned myself so well these past few years. So now, even without medication, I pull myself up quickly. Out of the dark. I don't want to, I want to stay there where it's easy and comfortable. But I can't. I can't give up.

Am I weak? Am I strong? I don't know what I am. Getting better but still so broken inside that I can barely breathe. What's wrong with me? There's something so wrong with me. I feel like no one can really see it. No one can fix me, no one can save me. Sometimes I think it'd be such a relief if I did go into the hospital -- at least I could relax and let go and stop pretending to be ok, stop being strong and functional. Just completely let go and let someone take care of me. What's that like, when someone takes care of your every need? I haven't had that, not since I was very young. I've been taking care of myself, fixing myself, keeping these secrets and all the darkness within. No one wanted to hear about it or see it. Even as an adult, people don't want to know or deal with it, with me. Too much trouble. They say they're worried about me, but they just want me to get better so they don't have to worry or be uncomfortable. They're not really going to take on my burden or help me. They want me to help them, tell them I'm ok so they can walk away and feel better. That's not what I need. I need you to be there for ME. Look at me and really see me, see all the scary parts and still stay. Stay.

I guess that's the problem now, again. I feel abandoned. He didn't stay, he can't stay. None of them stay. Why do they come into my life and make me happy and inspire me and make me believe and then not want me anymore? How do they just turn off their feelings like that? There was something there, something everyone could see, but then it's gone? Changes, changes, changes. I don't change. I'm loyal, steady, permanent. I love forever. Unconditionally. Everyone has conditions, boundaries. They won't hold on, they won't fight the way I do. They run away. I didn't. Even when I wanted to leave, when I endured so much. Tested, tried, stretched out, met my limit again and again and surpassed it. It was right. I stayed because God told me to. Keep trying. This whole relationship was guided on faith. Maybe no one can understand that or believe me. Maybe I was just foolish. But I didn't make these choices based soley on love or fairytale ideas. Love isn't always enough. I knew the reality, I knew the consequences, I knew how much these challenges were hurting me. But went through it, got through it, with the hope that things would get better. The situation was a trial, but situations can change. It was supposed to change. It didn't get more stable, but the good still outweighed the bad. We grew stronger, we learned. And so I kept trying. Until I had nothing left to give...then gave a little more. I held it together, but it crumbled in my hands. Things didn't get better, they only got worse. He didn't fix it or fight for it like I hoped, like I prayed. I was the only one fighting, the only one trying, the only one giving. He was going through a bad time, so I still tried to understand. But he chose a different path...his old path, his old life. I wanted to keep moving forward. He was my future. But those dreams died. And now I walk alone, once again. Carrying those broken dreams. Like the W.B. Yeats poem...but he didn't tread lightly.

Did I settle too much? Allow the situation too much leeway because of mental health issues and past traumas? Did I try too hard to be too much? To try to be his rock, his champion, his savior, his support, his family? Don't we all need that sometimes? I do. I wanted him to be that for me too...be there for me and fight for me and not give up on me no matter how bad it gets. I wanted that. And I was capable of giving that so I did. I was gentle, I was kind, I was loving. Sometimes I let the anger and hurt slip out. And we discussed things. Three hours worth of discussion things. The distance was hard, but I tried my best to be there. I drove, even through my fears. But it's my fears that make me seen as weak. My anxiety and issues. So minor compared to his...and hers. But yet, too much. God, I tried so hard, gave so much. And maybe that's the problem. What did he sacrifice for me? I gave him all of me. I gave him my family...and they loved him. He fit, he was a part. There was so much more to come. I believed it could work, against all odds. I thought he believed that too. But...things changed. Everything changed.

I can understand. I can see the logic. I understand that you can't control your emotions. I acknowledge his pain and fear. I know what fear can do. I haven't experienced what he experienced, I don't have a similar background. But I have empathy and compassion. He wanted me to know him, so I know him. Does he know me? More so than he did. But maybe it doesn't matter. I did all I was meant to do. I did what I needed to do. I was appreciated. I didn't do it for him. I will continue doing good. I will probably continue to question and be confused, but I will do what I'm asked to do. I will try to live my life right, better. I have to walk my own path now, focus on making myself better. Focus on building a new future. Maybe my destiny is to just be alone, helping others, getting them to where they need to be. Then they move on. All that loss has a cost though. And I'm not happy. I'm grieving. The loss of this. My grandparents, my dog, Lazy. My birthday's coming up and it will be four years. It's hard. We just lost too much, too many in such a short time. My mom is hurting and that hurts me too. It all goes inside of me, all the pain. People think I haven't been through something as bad as they have, but I have lost a lot, I have suffered. And I take all of their pain and loss and grief and fear...and my family's, and my own. Add all that up. Isn't that enough? There will always be something worse. And once I know about it, it will become a part of me too. If you suffer, I suffer with you, just by reading your words, hearing your voice. Isn't that enough? It doesn't end. The good things end, but the bad things continue on.

I'm so tired. I'm still feeling insecure. But I will post this one. Because I need to take that step. And maybe it will all matter. I believe in miracles. I believe that anything's possible.

I pray for someone I love to love me enough and accept me enough to stay...for those 30+ years to eternity. No more words, no more intentions, no promises. Only action. Prove it. And keep proving it. I was a good girlfriend. And I know I can be a good wife. I feel like I was living the vows already. I am worth the effort. And you'll never have to doubt that you are loved. I know how to prove it. I have so much in my heart.

But I still love him. I can't change that. I wish he could be all the things he once was. All that I could see in him. I still believe in him, that he's better than his circumstances, better than his past. That he can have a bright future and do so much good in this world. Be righteous like he said he wanted to be. He inspired me in that way. My mom said he has a good heart...I'll always believe that. I saw it in action. I loved him for it. I'll continue to pray for him. But I can't be a part of his life. He doesn't want me there anyway.

What do I want? It doesn't matter. What is meant to be will be. Time will heal, time will let go. I have to go. Where? Where I need to be, I guess.